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CASPER WATCHED AS Nettie walked away, her silhouette gradually fading into the distance. A complex blend of relief and lingering unhappiness churned within him after her departure. It struck him with startling clarity that she was no longer an ally but a formidable adversary. Nettie held the title of Assistant District Attorney, the very person responsible for prosecuting his brother’s case. She was the tenacious prosecutor that Bryce had often spoken of, the one who relentlessly pursued those charged with driving under the influence. Her unwavering resolve in the courtroom represented a professional duty and a personal vendetta that now felt like a tangible threat to Casper and his family’s peace.

“It’s no big deal,” Casper reassured Bryce with a wave, the corners of his mouth lifting to mask the discomfort. “It’s just a graze.”

Bryce’s expression darkened, and he grimaced, his eyes narrowing as he pointedly replied, “On your ass.”

Casper shifted slightly, wincing as he realized the bullet had indeed grazed his rear end. It stung, a sharp reminder that he’d feel the consequences for some time, especially when sitting down. Worry flickered through him—how easily things could have turned out far worse. With a deep breath, he tried to embrace gratitude for his relatively minor injury, counting the blessings he still had.

That brief relief was shattered when a sheriff’s deputy arrived. Much to Casper’s disbelief, the young man overreacted and immediately sent for a medic.

“This is the last thing I need,” Casper lamented, his frustration palpable as a medic gestured for him to follow to a more secluded area. There, under the harsh fluorescent lights, he would have to drop his pants so the medic could assess the gory details of his wound.

“Go with them,” Bryce instructed. “I need to consult with Aaron and brief him on everything that’s unfolded. Once I have more information, I’ll inform you about the rescheduling of the arraignment. They’re likely to fit it in tomorrow.”

With a sense of resignation and nowhere else to turn, Casper complied and followed the medic down the stark corridor. They found a small interrogation room where Casper reluctantly exposed his injury. The medic assessed the damage carefully and then advised, “I recommend using a blow-up donut for a few days to alleviate any pressure on the area during recovery.”

Casper nodded thoughtfully, a mix of discomfort and contemplation in his expression, as he replied, “I’ll consider that.” The thought of sitting on a padded ring was strange, but anything for relief seemed worth it.

As Casper was led into the sheriff’s office, a mix of anticipation and anxiety churned in his stomach. Though he had expected to meet with a deputy, the sight of the sheriff himself brought an unexpected weight to the encounter. The room was alive with activity; several deputies were clustered together, engrossed in taking statements from various witnesses. Their voices were a low hum punctuated by the occasional sharp question.

The office door swung open, revealing Nettie, who emerged startled and seemed to freeze briefly as their eyes met. “Oh, you,” she gasped, an unmistakable shock clear on her face.

Casper lifted his brows in surprise, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, me,” he replied, his tone teasing yet curious, wondering what had caused her sudden discomfort.

Nettie glanced momentarily into his eyes but quickly looked away. With a quick, flustered movement, she ducked her head, then maneuvered around him. The tension between them hung thick in the air.

As he stood there watching Nettie walk away, Casper’s brow creased in deep thought, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling within him. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why he felt such uncertainty toward the prosecutor. Rumors had been circulating, and if they proved true, she was poised to argue for no bail for his brother, a prospect that filled him with dread. The thought of his brother remaining behind bars was unbearable. He could already imagine the fallout—his mother’s reaction would be explosive. She had always been fiercely protective and emotionally driven; if she discovered the truth, she’d erupt with worry and frustration, and Casper knew he’d have to endure her endless lamentations. It would be a relentless cycle of anxiety and disappointment, and he could not bear the thought of facing that alone.

“Mr. McNabb,” a deep, resonant voice intoned from behind him, momentarily pulling Casper’s attention away from Nettie’s slowly disappearing silhouette. He turned to find a tall, robust man with broad shoulders and an authoritative presence. The man extended his hand, which spoke of both formality and warmth. “I’m Sheriff Beau Necaise,” he introduced himself with a hint of pride.

Before Casper could express his thanks, the deputy accompanying him vanished, leaving Casper alone. He grasped the sheriff’s hand, feeling the strength in the sheriff’s grip. “Nice to meet you. Call me Casper,” he replied.

A faint smile broke across the sheriff’s face, his eyes glinting with amusement and familiarity. “She mentioned that you’d want to be called that,” he said, his lips curving slightly as if he held a shared joke with someone they both knew.

Curiosity piqued, Casper wondered about this mysterious “she.” He had only one person in mind, and that had to be Nettie. “Well, she was right,” he acknowledged, a smile creeping onto his face as he felt the connection solidify between them. The warmth of their exchange hinted at the beginnings of mutual respect and understanding.

As Casper stepped into the office, he noticed the desk was immaculate, devoid of clutter, and adorned with photographs showcasing the sheriff alongside notable figures and celebrities. The walls told stories of achievements and alliances, creating an atmosphere of authority and respect. He sat across from Sheriff Necaise, who observed him with appreciation and skepticism.

Casper’s wound burned, but he refused to squirm in front of the man. Instead, he slightly lifted his right buttcheek to alleviate some of the pressure on the wound. It wasn’t perfect, but he’d survived worse.

“I hear thanks are in order,” the sheriff began with a hint of caution. “While I will protest any civilian interference, I appreciate your efforts. However, son, did you stop to consider the ramifications of your actions before jumping into the fray? It’s a dangerous game.”

Casper met his gaze and nodded thoughtfully. “Of course, Sheriff. I fully understood the potential consequences. I wouldn’t have intervened if I believed the bailiff controlled the situation, if the deputies had arrived earlier, or if I thought I’d fail.”

The statement struck a nerve with the sheriff, a subtle jab that Casper hadn’t intended. The atmosphere shifted slightly as the sheriff’s brow furrowed, perhaps stung by the implication that his team had been lacking in their duties.

The sheriff leaned back in his black executive chair, spinning a silver pen between his fingers. His brow furrowed slightly as he scrutinized the young man across from him. “It appears you’ve had some formal training. Can you tell me about your background?”

Casper despised discussing his past accomplishments, which felt more like bragging than sharing. However, he understood that the sheriff would likely criticize him for his supposed “interference” during the recent incident if he didn’t provide some insight into his qualifications. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and replied, “I’ve been a paramedic, an Army Ranger, and have spent time in Delta Force. Currently, I’m an agent with Hamilton Investigation and Security in Baltimore.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed with interest. “Hamilton Investigation and Security,” he echoed, a note of curiosity in his tone. “Weren’t they who assisted JD and Cassie up in Oxford to retrieve his boy?”

Casper nodded, his expression steady. “Yes, we were part of that operation.” Given the region’s interconnected nature of law enforcement and private investigative work, it didn’t surprise him that word of their work had traveled from Gulf Island to Biloxi. He reflected on how their overlapping jurisdictions often led to shared stories and collaborative efforts in times of need.

Beau leaned forward in his chair, an unmistakable sense of satisfaction lighting up his face as he dropped the pen onto the desk with a soft clatter. A playful grin spread across his lips. “Well, hell, boy, we are genuinely happy to be able to thank you for your assistance. Not being in the loop on that one really chapped my ass, but I understood the situation since they only passed through my jurisdiction without a heads-up.” The nuance in his tone suggested a layered frustration, not just about the oversight but also the implications it carried for his authority.

Casper merely nodded, uncertain if a verbal acknowledgment would be appropriate or if silence was his best route in this intricate dance with the sheriff.

“Still,” Beau continued, leaning back slightly with his arms crossed, his gaze sharpening, “you need to be careful. Will you be carrying in my neighborhood?”

Casper nodded in response, realizing he hadn’t intended to ask permission for his concealed carry, but it seemed prudent given the sheriff’s tone. “I’d sure like to keep my ankle piece if that’s okay. I don’t see a need for my sidearm on this trip,” he replied, trying to sound as cooperative as possible while gauging Beau’s reaction.

“I don’t see it either,” Beau replied dismissively, signaling that Casper’s assessment was accepted. “The ankle piece is fine. Just keep it hidden away.” His expression softened slightly as if offering a moment of camaraderie. “We have lots of open carries here, but remember, the less visible, the better. It helps avoid unnecessary attention.”

The gravity of the conversation hung between them, an unspoken understanding forming as they navigated the complexities of local law, trust, and safety in their shared environment.

“So, tell me, what brings you to Biloxi and the courthouse?” the sheriff inquired, his eyes narrowing with curiosity as he sized up the newcomer.

“My brother,” Casper replied, his tone steady yet hinting at the weight of his concern.

Before Casper could elaborate further, Sheriff Necaise’s expression darkened—his brow furrowed. “You mean Aaron McNabb? That boy has been the bane of my existence since I took office as sheriff,” he lamented, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice.

Unfortunately, Casper didn’t find it hard to believe. Just recently, during a tense phone call with his mother, she had painted a troubling picture of Aaron’s spiraling life—one consumed by an insatiable appetite for alcohol and high-stakes gambling. The images of reckless nights and shattered trust flickered in his mind, but he needed to know more. “And now?” he pressed, his concern palpable.

The sheriff paused momentarily, drawing out the suspense like a thick fog descending on the scene. “Well,” he began, his tone grave, “this is the second DUI we’ve pulled him in for. But to be honest, I’m certain it’s not the only time he’s gotten behind the wheel after drinking.”

A troubled silence enveloped them, heavy with the weight of familial bonds and the consequences of choices made in darkness.

“We’re thrilled to have ADA Broussard on the case,” the sheriff said. “She’s one tough cookie when dealing with drunk drivers. You can count on her not to pull any punches during the trial. In fact, she’s never lost one of those cases.”

Great , Casper thought, feeling a flicker of hope amidst his worries. Yet, there was always the possibility of that first time. Once more, the little devil inside him whispered that incarceration might be the best option for his brother’s burgeoning problems. But Casper couldn’t bring himself to consider such a fate for anyone, especially not for family. No, rehab—that’s what he’d push Bryce to advocate for. Maybe that was the solution that could address the issues his brother faced, something no one else had been able to manage effectively.

“So, she’s that good?” Casper inquired, wanting to know more about this formidable attorney who was now against his brother.

“Yeah, absolutely! And I truly can’t thank you enough for looking out for our little prodigy,” the sheriff replied proudly.

“Prodigy?” Casper echoed, a puzzled look crossing his face as he recalled that she had only just turned twenty-five.

“Oh,” the sheriff replied, rocking slightly in his chair as if conveying a secret. “You haven’t heard about her past, have you? Boy, how long have you been away?”

“Too long,” was Casper’s honest, if somewhat vague, reply, though he hadn’t meant he’d been away from his family for an extended time. Yet, the thought crossed his mind that maybe if he had been present, he could have intervened and helped his brother before things escalated to this level.

“Let me tell you,” the sheriff continued, leaning forward, engaging Casper’s curiosity. “She graduated from college at just nineteen and finished law school by age twenty-one. The girl is truly as sharp as a whip.”

Although attempting to mask his emotions, Casper was impressed and leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Does she opt for rehab, probation, or prison time?” he inquired, his tone steady yet introspective.

The sheriff took a moment, furrowing his brow as he weighed the options. “She chooses rehab, but only while serving their prison sentence. She firmly believes that probation offers no real chance for recovery, as it places alcohol too readily within reach.”

Casper paused, contemplating the implications of this. Yet, he thought, there’s always a first time for everything. While probation seemed acceptable in theory, the reality of prison time felt far too harsh. If she wouldn’t advocate fiercely for rehab, he’d take matters into his own hands—he would personally see to it that his brother was placed in a rehabilitation facility.

“Given that this is Aaron’s second DUI, it’s likely she’ll fight for the maximum sentence,” the sheriff added.

Casper’s expression hardened at this news, a fierce resolve settling within him; over his dead body would he let that happen. Determined not to let this slide, he resolved to find a way to assist Bryce in winning the case. Or perhaps he’d persuade Nettie to adopt a different strategy for the trial altogether. He couldn’t afford to remain a passive observer any longer when his brother’s future hung in the balance. He would dive headfirst into the battle, ready to do whatever it took to secure his family before he turned his back again.