* * *

CASH GRIER CAME out of his office wearing a thoughtful expression. He glanced at Carlie. “Got that letter ready for me to mail?”

“Yes, sir. All it needs is a signature.” She handed him a neatly typed letter, on department letterhead, with an addressed, stamped envelope.

He read over it.

“If you’re looking for spelling mistakes, you won’t find a single one, and I do not use spell-checker,” she said with a smug grin.

He laughed. “I’ll take your word for it. Nice work.”

“Thanks, boss.”

He signed it, folded it and put it in the envelope.

“Oh, you had a call from that rancher in Wyoming. Dalton Kirk?”

He frowned. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Something about that man who was killed. He said his wife had a premonition. He wouldn’t tell me what it was. But he wanted you to call him.”

“I’ll do it when I get back from lunch.”

“Yes, sir.”

She watched him go out the door before she pulled out a sandwich and a soft drink from her lunch box. It was her habit to eat at her desk. The chief never complained. He probably knew she couldn’t afford to eat out, except once in a great while.

She wondered what the Kirk man’s wife had told him? She hoped it wasn’t anything bad. Just lately, there had been quite a few unpleasant happenings around Jacobsville, Texas, including that wild man’s attack on her father. She shivered, remembering how that had ended.

The phone rang. She picked it up, wiping away peanut butter on her lips before she answered, “Chief Grier’s office.”

There was a brief pause. “Tell your father he’s next.”

Before she could say a word, the caller hung up. Carlie stared at the receiver with her heart racing. It was not going to be a good day.