Longhorn Law 2: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  “I’ll be in my office, and if one of you leaves your keys by the door, I can lock up,” I assured the both of them. “I’ll just go ahead and wish you two a good night, the both of you, in case I’m distracted when you leave.”

  I gave them a small, two-fingered salute before I veered off into my own office. I flipped the light switch on to brighten the rapidly darkening room, and then lowered myself down into my large, leather desk chair to set to work.

  The first thing I did was shake the mouse to knock my computer screen to life. I needed to sort through all of the information we’d uncovered on Thompson and format it into some sort of easily readable document for David. I’d given him a loose rundown of Sheriff Thompson’s behavior during our run-in the park, but a few tales told outside of school weren’t enough to bring down a man who’d been elected four times.

  I had all of the notes that Brody had emailed me from his conversations with everyone on Todd’s list as well as my own notes from my conversations with Todd, Natalie, and Jackson to parse through. I could then add in the details we had, like the damaged clock, the items that weren’t on the official inventory of items to be sold, and my own recent experiences.

  When my computer flickered to life, I quickly typed my password into the box and waited as the computer decided what to do next. Over the top of the monitor, I saw Brody and Evelyn both pull the doors to their offices shut. I gave them a small nod that I wasn’t certain they’d seen before I ducked my head back down to focus on my work once more.

  The light in the hallway flicked off just before I heard the front door open and then swing closed again.

  I didn’t mind the solitude of the newly emptied office, but I still shifted in my seat to pull my phone from my pocket.

  I had kept my earbuds on me after my run and didn’t hesitate to slot one in each ear before I pulled up an instrumental playlist to help keep my mind occupied as I began annotating the documents from Brody.

  The time passed by in a blur as I transferred information from one document to another and compiled all of our facts into a detailed outline that would give David the background he would need. I wasn’t a campaign manager or a speech writer, but I felt like I had a good grasp on the sort of things that he should touch on when he announced his candidacy the next morning.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been working before a text from David buzzed through my phone. It was simply a thumbs-up emoji that let me know that our plan had been set into motion, which meant he’d been able to get himself onto the ballot and set up a meeting with one of the local news stations to announce it.

  I would have done that myself, but thanks to all of his community events, David already had an in with one of the local stations and had offered to set up a meeting himself. Just as well, since it left me more time to work on my laundry list of Sheriff-backed crimes. I sent him back a thumbs-up emoji of my own before I turned my attention back to my computer screen and the ever growing list of known bad acts.

  Time passed me by in a blur, and I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until my eyes started to burn from staring at my screen. I blinked away the feeling and glanced down at the small clock at the corner of my screen. It was already a little past ten o’clock at night.

  I wasn’t exactly burning the midnight oil, but it was still later than I had anticipated. I leaned back in my chair and shifted my posture to loosen up the aches that had settled along my spine. I noticed that the light that had previously trickled in from the window behind me had gone dark.

  I sighed and reached over to rest my hand atop the mouse for my computer. I scrolled the small wheel to move my cursor up and down the pages of my document to see how much progress I had made on David’s list.

  My eyes skimmed over the pages once, just to be sure I hadn’t missed anything important, and then one more time to make sure it all made sense. I knew that the longer I sat at my desk, the less coherent the document would get.

  I wouldn’t be much help to David or his campaign if I started writing the same sentence over and over again, and I knew that I should just go home for the night and actually get some rest. I was still running on fumes from the last handful of sleepless nights.

  I briefly debated the merits of trying to sleep in my office before I managed to convince myself that doing that would be crazy. Finally convinced that sleep was what I needed, I started my routine for going home shortly after.

  Before I shut down the computer for the night, I emailed the multiple pages of research to David with a small note at the bottom to let him know what everything was as well as the source of the information. Then I closed out of my browser, turned off my computer, and slowly stood up.

  My legs ached as I pushed myself up out of my chair, and I twisted at the waist a few times to pop the aches out of my spine. I thought about the tall deputy hunkered into his small chair and wondered how he made it through the day.

  With my back in reasonable order again, I finally noticed that the battery in my headphones had died a short while before. So I removed the now soundless devices from my ears, deposited them in their little carrying case, and slipped the case back into my pocket alongside my phone.

  I pushed my chair back into my desk and closed my blinds out of habit before I made my way out of my office. I flicked the light off as I turned into the already darkened hallway. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the shadows as I made my way from the hallway to the door with the help of the faint light that trickled in from the lamp posts outside our office’s front door.

  I patted my pockets for my keys before I once again remembered that my keyring sat in the sheriff’s department gathering dust, and that I had to use the key that either Brody or Evelyn had left behind to lock up for the night.

  I squinted in the darkness to try and figure out where the aforementioned key had been left before I saw that it was already slotted into the lock for me. I gave a small chuckle and pulled the key from the lock and slid the small ring over my thumb to keep track of it while I stepped out onto the dark street.

  I wasn’t sure, but I figured that the key belonged to Brody because it didn’t have the thin, colored ribbon laced around the ring that I had seen on most of Evelyn’s keys. I had never asked why it was there, but I assumed it was some sort of organizational system that I would never be able to understand.

  The door to the Landon Legal office swung shut behind me, and I turned to slot the key into the lock. I twisted until I heard the familiar click, freed the key from the lock, and dropped it into my pocket alongside my phone and my headphone case.

  Despite how quickly the dark had encroached, it was still a nice night out. The cool breeze felt good against my skin, and unlike the night before, I could actually see a few stars glittering in the sky overhead alongside the faintest sliver of the moon.

  I still wished that I had my car, but nights like that made the walk home that much easier. I could feel that the slow ache in my legs from my run earlier had started to set in while I’d worked in the office, but even that didn’t prevent me from enjoying the walk as I made my way down the sidewalk and around the corner.

  For a Saturday night, the street was quiet, and if it hadn’t been such a lovely night, it might have been ominous.

  But things had finally started to look up for us in our pursuit to free Crowley of Thompson’s influence, and I could feel the tentative flutter of hope in my chest. I was determined not to see any ugly omens at the end of such a promising day.

  I appreciated the fact that Evelyn and Brody had both been so willing to come in on a weekend to help me with the case, and I was also grateful that the judge was willing to see us on a Sunday morning at that.

  I assumed I would be meeting with Calhoun and realized I should have asked Evelyn for a few more specifics about that before I let her go for the evening. But, I could always just call her first thing in the morning as I made my way to the courthouse now that I had my phone back.

  I slipped my h
ands in my pockets and slowed my pace as I let myself savor the pleasantness of the walk.

  “Hey!” a voice called out to me from across the street and broke the calm silence that had floated over the night.

  I kept walking until I realized that there wasn’t anyone else out on the street that the person could have been speaking to, and so I slowed to a stop and turned toward the sound.

  A figure stood half-obscured by the dark overhang of the building across the street, and their shadow stretched out across the sidewalk like some sort of fairytale ogre.

  My brow furrowed as I squinted into the darkness. It was too dark to pick out any details, and I had no idea if I even knew the person. The voice had sounded distinctly masculine, but I hadn’t been able to put a face to it.

  “Can I help you?” I called back to them with my voice raised just enough to be heard.

  The figure in the dark didn’t say anything, and I took a step closer to the edge of the sidewalk. If they were in trouble, I didn’t want to leave them alone or just walk away if there was something I could do for them.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked while I still kept my voice raised so they could hear me. “Do you need help?”

  But before I could ask another question or cross the street to help, I saw something that caused the blood in my veins to run as cold as ice.

  Even in the dark, I recognized the metallic, silver glint of a gun being raised.

  Chapter 17

  I felt as if time had started to play in slow-motion, or like I was watching my own life on a movie screen and unable to do much more than yell at the fool to watch out. Some part of my brain registered that my heart beat against the wall of my chest like a jackhammer as it tried to climb out of my body through my throat. But that was the least of my worries.

  I would have recognized the sight of the gun even in my dreams, and I knew for a fact that I’d recognized it in my nightmares. The metal gave off the faintest reflection in the dim light of the moon, and I swallowed my heart and my fear back down into my body. I felt my limbs begin to shake as if they were separate from the rest of me even as my mind screamed at me to run.

  The gun, I noticed, did not shake.

  There was no need for any more words by either of us. Somehow, I willed my shaking legs to respond, and I ran.

  A shot rang out in the dark and played itself over again in my memory until I could think of nothing other than the sound of the bullet as it whistled past my ear. I had no idea where the bullet hit, other than the relative certainty that it wasn’t me. At a guess, I figured it had embedded itself in the outside wall of Landon Legal.

  The man attached to the gun shouted something I couldn’t make out past the ringing in my ears, but I didn’t slow to ask him what it was that he’d said.

  I tried not to dwell on the fact that for the second time in less than a calendar year, I found myself running for my life. At least this time, I was in sneakers instead of dress shoes.

  My legs ached from the run earlier in the day, but I quickly fell into a rhythm as my feet pounded against the sidewalk with each step. I had one simple goal, and that was to put more and more distance between myself and the gun.

  I tried to listen for footsteps behind me, but my ears still rang like church bells. It was annoying, but it was better than being dead.

  As I chugged along the street, I tried to draw a mental map from my rapidly changing location to my apartment. I had lived in the area long enough now that I knew a fair number of back ways from the Landon Legal office to my own building, and I nearly started off down an alley before I realized what that could mean.

  I lived in an apartment building with plenty of other people, and I didn’t dare put them at risk by running straight home. I had no way of knowing if the gunman was acting on his own, or if he was simply there to guide me into a trap. For all I knew, he had a partner waiting outside my apartment.

  The ringing started to subside finally, and I didn’t have to look behind me to know that the man and his gun were in hot pursuit. The sound of heavy footfalls out of time with mine echoed and resounded in the dark silence of the street while I tried to come up with another plan.

  My breaths started to come in short gasps, and I knew I would have to do something soon. So I took a sharp right turn where I usually would have taken a left and started off toward the opposite end of town, toward my former office building. I wasn’t sure why I had started off in that direction or why it felt like the best place to go, but I knew it was better than heading home.

  My pulse beat against my wrists like a surefooted rabbit, and I couldn’t decipher if it was from adrenaline, fear, or shock. But it worked like a metronome, and I found myself settling into a more regular and sustainable pace. As I hit my stride, I risked a quick glance of my shoulder, though I didn’t hold out much hope that I’d suddenly recognize the man.

  I still couldn’t make out the face of the shooter, but I could see his form as it continued on my trail. I wasn’t sure whether or not to feel relieved that he seemed to have tucked the gun away somewhere on his person. After all, a hidden weapon was still a weapon, and I still had a target painted on my back.

  I tried not to giggle as I wondered if Thompson had planted some sort of homing beacon inside of me that broadcasted an order to shoot me. I knew that the sudden burst of silliness was just the fear creeping in, so I forced myself to look forward and focus on my running.

  I breathed out in small, careful puffs of air and pumped my limbs in time. When I had promised David I would run in his marathon, this wasn’t what I had anticipated in the way of training, and then I wondered if I would be alive to tell him yet another story about the dangers of life in Crowley.

  I continued to weave through the darkness as I cut down thin alleys and past businesses that had long since closed for the night. It was as if I operated on autopilot, and I honestly didn’t care where I ended up, so long as I ended up there alive.

  I swung around the corner at the next intersection and caught a glimpse of my shadowed gunman as he tried to gain on me. For the first time, I was able to catch a half-proper look at his face, but in my panicked mind, I couldn’t place if or where I had seen him before.

  Once I turned the corner, I was relieved to see the perpetually blinking light of Bertie’s Diner that advertised it was still open. Would this nameless shooter follow me into a diner full of late-night patrons that undoubtedly had just stumbled in for a drunken meal? I hadn’t been willing to lead him to my apartment, so why should I bolt for the crowd gathered for a late nosh?

  The thought of potentially bringing harm to that many unsuspecting people made me feel sicker to my stomach than I already felt. And so, to appease the anxiety in my conscience, I ran past Bertie’s with my head ducked down.

  The large glass storefront windows of the vintage-inspired diner provided what I was certain was an interesting view of a confusing scene to the patrons inside, and I just hoped they were too drunk to question it if they even noticed.

  The old office of Landon Legal wasn’t far past the diner on the other side of the street, and I ignored my instinct to run toward it. There weren’t any alleys around the side of the office building, and it didn’t offer any sort of safe haven since we’d handed back the keys.

  Maybe I could run past the old office and loop around back toward my new office. I could run into the building and lock myself inside.

  But would our glass door hold up to gunfire? Would it be enough to make this mystery assailant stop? And what would I do once I was inside? Somehow, calling the sheriff’s department for help didn’t seem like a good idea.

  And then there was the question of how far I could run. I tried to soften my own breathing so that I could hear the man behind me as we raced along the sidewalk.

  After a moment, I knew he wouldn’t catch me, not like this on our feet. Though I might not have been as fast as David, I was still quicker than the man with the gun.

  But no one was faster than
another bullet.

  Before I could contemplate what I would want engraved on my tombstone if this assailant managed to kill me, the loud roar of a car engine cut through the quiet of the night. At the intersection I was rapidly approaching, a familiar, cherry-red muscle car slammed to a halt.

  Was this like a mirage in the desert? Was I hallucinating my own rescue?

  Before I could convince myself that I had lost my mind, the door swung open as if shoved from the inside, and I saw the familiar tilt of Brody’s hat.

  “Get in” he boomed over the din of blood as it rushed through my head.

  He didn’t have to tell me twice, and I sprinted faster than I had probably ever done in my life to that point and practically launched myself into the passenger seat of the car. I slammed the door closed as Brody’s foot shifted from the brakes to the gas pedal.

  The tires squealed against the asphalt as he swung what was definitely a slightly illegal turn in the center of the intersection and peeled off down the street.

  We left the man and his gun behind in a dust cloud, though I didn’t dare look back until we’d passed several intersections. When I did risk a look over the dashboard, my heart pounded so hard against my chest I was worried Brody would be able to see it through my shirt. And I still couldn’t hear much more than the roar of the engine over the ringing in my ears that hadn’t quite gone away.

  “What--” I sputtered out the word like it was a question as I struggled to catch my breath.

  I raised one hand to my stuttering chest as if it would still my heartrate.

  Brody’s face was drawn and knotted in concern and fear as he sped down the street until he seemed certain we were far enough away from the almost-crime-scene.

  “I was in Bertie’s,” he said as an explanation. “After I dropped Evelyn off, I stayed with her for a little while until she practically kicked me out and told me to stop ‘my damn doting’.”

  That sounded like something Evelyn would say, and I could imagine her exact tone as she snapped out the words as if she were in the car with us.