Page 9 of Deacon (Men of Clifton, Montana #52)

Deke guided his truck into the hotel parking lot, the engine rumbling softly before he shut it off and stepped out into the warm evening air.

The hotel’s facade loomed before him, its lights casting a warm glow against the descending night.

He entered the lobby, where the polished marble floors reflected the soft lighting overhead, and walked toward the reception counter.

“Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” the receptionist asked, his voice courteous and welcoming.

“Do you have three rooms available close together, or at least on the same floor?” Deke asked, his gaze steady.

“Let me see,” the receptionist replied, fingers dancing over the keyboard with practiced precision. Deke observed him, noting the quiet efficiency of his movements.

“We do. They’re on the third floor. Would that be alright?” the receptionist confirmed, glancing up with a polite smile.

“Yes, and I need to move out of my room on the second floor to one of those,” Deke responded, his tone matter-of-fact.

“You want to change rooms?” The receptionist’s eyebrows lifted slightly in question.

“Yes, sir. It would be more convenient for us to be close together,” Deke explained, offering a brief nod of understanding. “I’ll pack then come back with the keycard and settle the bill.”

The receptionist’s eyes flickered to the badge clipped to Deke’s belt, then he nodded in agreement. “Not a problem.”

“I appreciate it.” Deke thanked him, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He retrieved his credit card, the plastic gleaming under the lobby lights, and settled the payment for all three rooms. The MDOL would reimburse him for the rooms, travel, and food.

“The keycards, sir. I hope you enjoy your stay,” the receptionist said warmly, handing over the slim cards.

“Thank you. I’m just going to hang around here until the other men arrive,” Deke replied, pocketing the keycards.

“Sure thing. Have a good evening,” the receptionist offered with a nod.

Deke acknowledged him with a nod and moved toward one of the plush sofas in the lobby, its fabric a deep, inviting blue.

He settled in to wait for Agents Killian Doyle and Rawley Bowman, who arrived a few minutes later, their duffle bags slung casually over their shoulders.

Deke stood, greeting them with a firm handshake and handing over two of the keycards.

“We’re all on the same floor and close together. I have to get my things out of my room and turn the keycard in, then I’ll meet you upstairs,” Deke informed them.

“Okay.” Killian nodded, accepting the keycards and passing one to Rawley.

Together, the men approached the elevator, the button lighting up under their touch. The doors slid open with a soft chime, and they stepped inside. Deke pressed the buttons for the second and third floors, feeling the gentle lurch as the elevator began its ascent .

When the doors opened on the second floor, Deke stepped out into the quiet hallway, turning to face his colleagues. “I won’t be long. I’ll see you in a little while.”

Both men nodded as the doors closed, and Deke headed down the hallway to his room. He opened the door and quickly packed his belongings. With everything in order, he made his way back to the elevator and pushed the button for the first floor.

After handing in his keycard at the front desk and paying the bill, he strode back to the elevator, the polished floor tiles reflecting the dim light of the lobby.

Once inside the elevator, he pressed the button for the third floor, and the doors closed with a soft whoosh.

He rode up silently, the hum of the elevator filling the small space.

Upon reaching the third floor, he stepped out into the hushed corridor, the carpet muffling his footsteps as he made his way to one of the other rooms. He knocked firmly on the door, and it swung open to reveal Killian, who greeted him a nod. Deke entered the room.

“I’ll email you the details I have, and we can get started tomorrow morning,” Deke said.

“Alright. I’m tired from that drive,” Killian replied, rubbing the back of his neck as if to shake off the fatigue.

“Is Celine alright with this?” Deke inquired.

Killian grinned. “Yeah, she’s fine with it. She knows the job.”

“Good. Some women don’t like it when traveling is involved, but what can you do?” Deke remarked, shrugging his shoulders.

“We don’t travel that much anyway. Besides, we’ll make up for it when I get home,” Killian added with a chuckle.

Deke shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Too much information, Killian.”

A sudden knock echoed through the room, drawing Killian’s attention to the door. Peering through the peephole, he nodded and opened the door to let in Rawley.

“I guess we’ll get started in the morning,” Rawley said, stretching slightly as he entered.

“Yeah, I need to talk to the local sheriff to see about getting a warrant. Old man Winchester told me I’d better have one when I asked to see the tires.

” Deke shrugged; his expression thoughtful.

“We’ll go by the sheriff’s office in the morning, then we’ll take it from there.

I know that Winchester’s sons had something to do with it. ”

“Trust your gut,” Rawley advised with a yawn, rubbing his eyes. “Man, I am dead on my feet.”

“How about we meet in the restaurant at seven tomorrow morning for breakfast, then get to work?” Deke suggested.

“Sounds good, Deke. I’ll see you both in the morning,” Rawley nodded, as he opened the door and slipped out into the quiet hallway.

“I’ll see you then, Killian.” Deke opened the door, the cool air of the corridor brushing against him as he stepped out and headed back to his room.

The following morning, after a hearty breakfast, the men departed the hotel. Deke took the wheel, navigating the roads to the sheriff’s department under the brightening sky.

Inside the lobby, the harsh fluorescent lights cast a stark glow over the hard plastic chairs that lined the walls.

After informing the receptionist they needed to speak with the sheriff, the men settled into them to wait.

Deke crossed his arms tightly, eyes fixed on the scuffed linoleum floor, lost in thought.

Killian, meanwhile, flipped through a dog-eared magazine, its pages crinkling softly.

Rawley leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed, seeking a moment of rest.

“Didn’t you get any sleep, Rawley?” Deke teased with a playful grin.

Rawley cracked one eye open. “I hate sleeping anywhere but my own bed.”

Killian scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Like you’ve never spent a night in a different bed.”

“Only on the job,” Rawley replied.

“Not a woman’s bed?” Deke chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“I said I hate sleeping anywhere but my own bed. I don’t sleep in a woman’s bed, and I don’t spend the night,” Rawley retorted, prompting laughter from the other two.

Just then, an older man with a weathered face and a commanding presence entered the lobby. All three men rose to their feet.

“I’m Sheriff Jones. Let’s head to my office,” he announced, his voice firm yet welcoming.

“Yes, sir,” Deke replied respectfully, and they trailed after the sheriff into a modest, cluttered office. Papers were strewn across the desk, and a faint aroma of coffee lingered in the air.

“Let me get another chair,” Sheriff Jones offered, glancing around the cramped space.

“No need, Sheriff. If I keep sitting down, I’m going to doze off,” Rawley said, rubbing his eyes.

Sheriff Jones chuckled, nodding in understanding. “I get that, son. Now, tell me what you need the warrant for.”

Deke leaned forward, his demeanor serious as he recounted the details of the case, producing the receipt for the tires as evidence. The sheriff examined it, his brow furrowing.

“I’ll call Judge Shaw. I know he doesn’t care for Winchester.

Most of them are in Winchester’s pocket.

I had his two older sons for the poisoning of that well, and I can’t tell you how pissed I was when they were released.

There was no way they should have gotten out, and if this puts them away, I’ll help you all I can. ”

“We appreciate that, Sheriff. How soon can you get it?” Deke inquired, hope in his voice.

“Just let me make a call,” Sheriff Jones replied, reaching for the phone.

Deke stood up, signaling to the others. “We’ll wait in the lobby.”

Killian and Rawley followed Deke out of the room, returning to their seats in the lobby, the air thick with anticipation.

A few minutes later, the sheriff strode into the lobby, prompting the men to rise from their seats. His presence seemed to fill the room; a no-nonsense demeanor etched into his features.

“You can pick the search warrant up at the judge’s office, then proceed to Winchester’s place,” he instructed, his voice steady and unwavering.

“If there is any kind of problem, please call me. I’d love to tell him he has no choice in the matter.

” With a firm gesture, he handed Deke a crisp business card.

“I wrote the judge’s office address on the back,” he added, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“Yes, sir. We appreciate this,” Deke replied, his tone respectful and earnest.

“No need to thank me. That SOB has been getting away with too much for far too long. I know it’s his sons causing trouble, but he must be aware of their actions, if he keeps getting them out,” the sheriff said, a frown creasing his brow.

“How many sons does he have?” Killian asked, curiosity piqued.

“Four,” the sheriff replied. “The oldest is twenty-two, followed by a twenty-year-old, an eighteen-year-old, and the youngest at thirteen. The oldest two have been nothing but trouble since their mother passed away two years ago. Winchester remarried a woman young enough to be his daughter, and the boys don’t like her.

Not that it bothers her; she married him for his money.

” Sheriff Jones shook his head in disapproval. “Good luck. Call if you need me.”