Page 7 of Vanish From Sight (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #2)

T he interaction with those in the forest only confirmed that people frequented the area to walk their dogs.

No animals were missing. No one had lost a leash.

With evidence needing to be returned and a chance for Noah to meet the new detective for the county, they returned to the office later that afternoon.

It was strange to step back into the Adirondack County Sheriff’s Office after all that had transpired months ago. A heavy heart from the loss of Luke was replaced by the knowledge of those who had been brought to justice and the warm welcome from those at the office.

“Do I need to get my specs replaced or is that really you, Noah Sutherland?”

She grinned. The familiar sight of Maisie Callaway, the receptionist at the front desk, garnered a smile. To those who worked there, she was a mother figure and source of comfort and support, far beyond the assistance she offered.

Having worked there for over thirty years, she’d seen it all. She had witnessed young and old officers come and go, and had offered a listening ear or a word of encouragement to those who needed it.

In many ways she was the face of the Sheriff’s Office. When the public walked through the doors, Maisie was the first one they saw. Her disarming smile and friendly demeanor made even the most pissed-off local feel at home.

Despite her age, she was as sharp as a tack, and always seemed to know what was happening in the office. Her desk was a hub of activity. Younger officers would often be found chatting with her or asking for her two cents on an incident.

She was more than a receptionist.

“How are you, Maisie?”

“Depends what time you ask.” She grinned as she hit a button under the desk. There was a loud buzz as the heavy door unlocked and they entered.

She was quick to slide off her stool and envelop Noah in a warm hug, the kind that only a mother or grandmother could give.

Although short of stature, she still stood tall and proud, with a wiry frame and sharp features that belied her years.

Her curly short hair was a silver-grey and styled in a bob that framed a face lined with wrinkles and creases earned from a lifetime of experience.

There was a mischievous glint to her eye and a playful spirit beneath her calm exterior.

She stood back from Noah, smiling broadly. “Please tell me they hired you.”

“Unfortunately, no, he’s still riding the fence over at B Troop,” Callie replied.

“And there was me thinking you were here to take Rivera’s position. ”

“Not today,” he replied.

“But one day,” Maisie said, gripping his arm tightly as her eyes lit up.

“You’ve been listening to Hugh again, haven’t you?”

She laughed while returning to her seat. “He comes in from time to time to shoot the breeze.”

“And toss in his two cents.”

“Of course,” she replied.

As they moved through the active office, Noah noticed the buzzing energy.

Deputies moved quickly, radios crackled, and some darted in and out of rooms. A few phones were ringing, keyboards clicked as reports were typed up and filed away.

There was constant chatter as deputies discussed run-of-the-mill incidents and coordinated efforts.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air; the fuel of choice that kept them charged throughout long twelve-hour shifts.

Passing the break room, Noah heard the microwave ding; the aroma of someone’s dinner made his stomach grumble.

The atmosphere was one of organized chaos, as the continued day-to-day strain bore down on deputies striving to maintain order and justice in the community.

The sights, sounds and smells of the office were similar to his department, which was located just off Route 86 and sandwiched between High Peaks and Saranac Lake.

But his location was one big revolving door as troopers and State officials came and went.

The door opened to the sheriff’s office and Avery Rivera stuck her head out. Noah had yet to meet her.

“Thorne. When you have a moment. I would like to see you in my office.”

Callie nodded.

Rivera caught Noah’s eye; she stepped out to greet him with a smile. “Ah, Mr. Sutherland. We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m the acting sheriff, Avery Rivera. ”

Without knowing her, it was hard to overlook her physical attributes.

She was an attractive Hispanic American with striking features that reflected a blend of cultures.

Her dark, expressive eyes were framed by thick lashes and a warm olive complexion that radiated health and vitality, or one too many trips to a tanning salon.

Her long, silky, wavy dark hair was pinned up. Her body was curvaceous with a narrow waist. For a second, he forgot to breathe.

“Mr. Sutherland?”

“Uh. Yes.” Noah extended a hand and immediately could tell from her grip that beauty wasn’t the reason why she had the position.

It was firm, self-assured. She carried herself with a sense of confidence and grace, yet he could sense a hint of fiery spirit that was only tempered by love for family and a strong sense of community. “It’s a pleasure.”

Still holding his hand, she looked a little confused. “Are you just visiting?”

“Assisting.”

“Really? I’m unaware of the office calling for State assistance. Did…?” she said, trailing off and glancing at Callie.

“No. Local PD did,” Noah said quickly.

“Ah. Right.” She smiled. “Yes, the lake crosses into their jurisdiction. It looks as if we will be working together on this one. Though I have to say it seems a little premature to be requesting State’s assistance when we still haven’t identified the victim.”

“That’s a conversation you’d need to have with the chief of police in High Peaks.”

“I will. In the meantime, we’re certainly grateful for any help.”

She released his hand, turned and went back into her office.

Callie hollered to another deputy and had them take the evidence, tag it and book it in.

“Well, I should…” Before Callie co uld finish what she was saying, they were startled by a rowdy noise.

They turned to see two men enter the lobby.

One was short, a burly man with a scraggly beard.

The one behind him was bald with a ginger goatee.

“I did nothing wrong!” the burly man cried, his voice echoing through the room as he was pushed toward the front desk. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Aye, just keep moving before I put you on your ass,” the second man said firmly and aggressively in a Scottish accent, but with a hint of playful humor.

“Who’s that?” Noah asked.

Callie smiled with amusement. “That’s our detective.”

Despite his small stature, the man had a wiry strength and quickness to his movement.

He was in his early fifties but moved with the agility of a younger man.

He was sporting a drab grey suit with a red tie.

His shoes were polished to a high shine and from all the pushing back and forth, Noah noticed his socks peeking out were mismatched, a bright plaid.

“Settle down, sir,” the detective hollered. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

The suspect didn’t hear him or refused to listen. He shouted and pulled away; his face red with anger.

The struggle only intensified as the larger man pushed back.

“Stop resisting!”

Several bystanders waiting in the lobby glanced over in alarm, but quickly looked away as Noah swung the door open and charged in to help.

“Ah, I don’t need help, lad, I’ve got this.”

Noah chuckled, hearing his thick Scottish accent. “Looks like it,” Noah said, helping him bring the guy to the front desk to book him in.

The suspect let loose with multiple curse words and then followed up with, “I can’t understand a D-damn word he’s saying,” he said with a stutter. “And I don’t think he U-understands me either. Can you tell him I haven’t done anything wrong?”

“What’s he here for?” Noah asked.

The detective regarded Noah. “Not that I need to explain to you, but dog theft.”

“I didn’t steal any dogs. I keep telling you that.”

“Oh no, so those mutts in the back of your van are yours? You’re a dog walker, is that it?

” He roared with laughter. “You must think I’m an idiot.

You can explain this to a judge on Monday.

Until then you can think about changing your story in the comfort of our county jail. We’ll book him in, Maisie, on theft.”

“I didn’t steal. I keep telling you that.”

“You sure do,” he said before calling for another deputy to take over so he could straighten out his suit which was now a crumpled mess.

“Noah Sutherland. State investigator.” He extended a hand.

“Angus McKenzie. But folks call me Gus.” He looked down at his clothes. “Damn, idiot ripped my shirt. I’m going to bill you for that,” he shouted over Noah’s shoulder.

“Bill me for this!” the guy replied, sticking up two fingers while his wrists were cuffed and he was hauled away by a deputy.

Noah laughed. “Uh, some things never change.”

“Nope. No they don’t.”

“I don’t recall seeing you here a few months back,” Noah said.

“That’s because I was working in the Big Apple.

We got word they were needing a detective up here to deal with all the crap.

So far, the only crap I’ve dealt with is folks like that moron.

” He pushed through into the office. “Meant to retire in five years, this was supposed to be a sweet gig. I’m starting to think I might take that early package. ”

Callie cracked a joke about all that package containing was coupons to the local Piggly Wiggly, a grocery chain store.

“Aye, I expect so. But hey, at least I can take you out, sweetheart.” He winked at her.

She laughed. “In your dreams, McKenzie.”

“Aye, a man can dream.”

Callie excused herself to go speak with the sheriff while Noah followed the Scotsman as he stormed into the break room to get himself a coffee.