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Grab Life by the Balls

By: soldierboy50401



For more background and information on the characters in this story, please read the following: 

What Mother-in-Law Wants 

Badge of Betrayal 

Clarissa Gets Served 

*WARNING* The characters and events in this story are fictional. There is frank discussion in this story about sexual abuse and rape, some of which may be discomforting. While not described in detail, it does involve one of the characters relating his history of abuse to the protagonist. This discussion is not intended in any way, shape or form to elicit sexual arousal and serves only to provide context and background for how an adult, educated and professional male could allow himself to be victimized well into adulthood. 

Sexual abuse and rape are crimes and should be tolerated by no one. No means NO! If you or someone you know is a victim of sexual abuse or rape, please contact the authorities and report it. 

If you or someone you know has been a victim, and you think stories involving this subject matter may serve as a trigger of past trauma, please do not read this story. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy my offering, dark though it may be. 

***** 

There's a saying that goes 'To err is human. To really foul things up requires a computer.' 

That sentiment pretty much describes how things have been around the Mason County Sheriff's Department lately - 'fouled up'. I was thinking these things as I stared at my computer screen that had locked up for the umpteenth time today. The damned little cursor was stubbornly stuck in the same position on my screen and had been for nearly five minutes. 

I decided to say the hell with it and initiate a hard shutdown and reboot. I didn't really have much choice, even though I wouldn't have been able to save the most recent work I was doing on my departmental budget for the upcoming fiscal year. My budget was due to the county supervisors six months prior to the start of the new fiscal year and our recent rash of computer and network glitches wasn't helping me in the least bit. 

I was close to completion, thankfully, but the recent issues still had me irritated, nonetheless. It was equally frustrating for my Chief Deputy, Lieutenants and Deputies as they all had issues trying to get their reports completed in a timely fashion. 

A knock on my door announced the presence of my day shift Lieutenant, Chris Hayes. 

"Got a minute, Pat?" 

"Actually, I do," I said, sitting with my back to him. "I'm rebooting my computer for the zillionth time today." 

"You, too, huh? This is getting to be nothing short of insane, Pat." 

"Don't I know it," I said, swiveling around in my chair to face him. 

"Anybody even talked to Dean about this? It's getting worse every day, Pat." Chris was referring to the county's network administrator, Dean Strobe. "I've got guys pulling car stops that take damned near 20 or 30 minutes just pulling down data on their cruiser terminals. At most, a stop shouldn't take more than 5 to 10 minutes." 

"I know, I know. The shitty part is that we can't even go 'old school' and just have the dispatchers relay subject info like we used to because the dispatchers are in the same predicament you guys are in the field." 

"What do you want us to do, Pat?" 

"Just keep doing the best you can, for now. I'll call Mitch Monahan and bitch to him and just tell him that I'm taking matters into my own hands, as a matter of public safety. I'm as sick of this as you are." 

"We'd appreciate that, Pat," Chris said, rising from his chair. "Just out of curiosity, what do you think Dean's issue is, anyway?" 

"I really don't know," I sighed. "About all I do know is that he has been calling in sick a lot. And the few times I have seen him, he looks like absolute hell. I might have to just pull him aside at some point and see if I can get to the bottom of this." 

"All I know is something needs to be done. Everything in this place depends on it." 

"I'll let you and the other shift commanders know what I find out." 

"Okay. Thanks Pat." 

"No problem," I said, swiveling back around to my work station, only to be greeted by the blue screen of death, indicating that now my computer was not even booting up at all. Whatever the issues were with my computer, I could only hope that my completed budget work was still saved somewhere on the county's servers. 

Dean Strobe used to be about as dependable as the atomic clock. Now, it is minute-to-minute to see if we can even get anything done around here. The issues came on gradually, maybe a glitch one week that was solved quickly and then nothing for two or three weeks. About a month ago, however, things got really bad and we started experiencing network issues or individual computer issues on an almost daily basis. 

My specialty is law enforcement. Truth be told, I'm an absolute idiot when it comes to anything technical, especially computers. Fortunately, I know people who have always been able to help me out in a jam and that's where a young woman named Tonya Fulbright came in. Correction - Tonya Fulbright-Hayes, to be precise. She was now the wife of Lieutenant Christopher Hayes. 

I grabbed my office phone and quickly hit the speed dial for the office of the county administrator, Mitch Monahan. Mitch Monahan did for Mason County and the county supervisors what the Red River Falls city administrator did for the town, the mayor and the council. 

"County administrator's office," a young lady answered. 

"Good afternoon," I replied. "This is Pat Quinn. May I please speak with Mitch?" 

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Mister Monahan is in a meeting right now with the county engineer. Can I put you through to his voice mail?" 

"Actually, I really need to speak with him. Could you please see if he'll take my call?" 

"I'll try," the receptionist said, sounding put off. I waited on the line for about 30 seconds before Mitch picked up. 

"Pat! How's it going?" 

"Not so good. Did I hear correctly that your receptionist said Chuck Pope was in there with you?" Chuck Pope was the Mason County engineer. All county buildings, construction and road projects fell under the purview of Chuck Pope and his office. 

"Yes, he is, Pat. He and I were just having a discussion about all of the computer issues everyone seems to be having." 

"Well, speak of the damned devil," I said. "That's exactly why I wanted to talk to you myself." 

"Here, Pat, let me put you on speaker phone so we can all brainstorm a little bit." 

"Afternoon, Pat," Chuck Pope said in his booming and gregarious voice. Chuck Pope was a big man, 6'3" and 250 pounds easily. He had played football as a defensive lineman at Kansas State University back in the 1980s. 

"Hey, Chuck. You having the same issues we are?" 

"Yeah, we're all stuck in this love boat, Pat. Any suggestions on how to deal with it?" 

"Actually, I do," I said. "But first, do either of you know what Dean Strobe's status is?" 

"Not sure what his issue is, Pat," Mitch answered. "I just know that he called in sick earlier this week and hasn't been back in the office since. He's been gone three days now." 

"Any idea if he plans on coming back this week yet?" 

"His assistant said no when I talked to her this morning," Chuck said. "She made it sound like he'd be gone all week." 

"Well if that's the case," I continued, "I'd like to take matters into my own hands. If you gentlemen don't have a problem with it, I'm pretty sure I can get the problem taken care of and have us all back up and running within a matter of hours, maybe a day at the most." 

"Do what you have to, Pat," Mitch replied. "Keep me posted. If you need to hire outside help, just make sure it is someone you can trust." 

"I'll do that, Mitch. Is the contractor rate still the same or did it go up this year?" 

"Same as last year, Pat," Mitch answered. 

"Gotcha. Okay, I'll get working on this and things should be better by the time you all get to work in the morning." 

"Sounds good, Pat," Mitch said. 

"Take care, Pat. Good talking to ya," Chuck answered. 

"Thanks guys," I said, hanging up. 

My next action was to get Chris Hayes back into my office so I went out to his cubicle where he was bullshitting with two of his Deputies. I didn't mind since there wasn't much they could do and their shift would be ending at 15:30 anyway, so there was little point in sending them back out on patrol for another fifteen minutes since the next shift was already on duty, anyway. 

"Chris? Can I chat with you for a minute?" 

"Sure, Pat," he said. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," he said, finishing his chat with the two Deputies. 

Once inside my office Chris said, "What'd ya find out, Pat?" 

"Mitch happened to be talking with Chuck Pope, the county engineer, and they're all in the same bowl of shit soup we are. I told Mitch that I had a plan to get us all back on track if he'd let me bring in some outside help, to which he agreed. My question is, would Tonya be up for a little contractor work tonight?" 

"Kinda late in the day, Pat. We were looking forward to just kinda chilling out tonight, ya know?" 

"I get it and I'm sorry. But I kinda promised Chuck and Mitch that I'd do my best to have things back to normal by the time they got into work tomorrow. I promise you that she'll get the standard contract rate, which will be at time-and-a-half for after hours work." 

"I know damned well if I say no that you'll still call her anyway. And there's no way she'll turn you down. Anybody else she'd tell to get fucked, but not her little Patty-Pie. So I guess I give you permission to call her," he said, defeated. "Just out of curiosity, what's the contractor rate, anyway?" 

"I figured you'd want to know, you greedy bastard. The county lets us pay $60 an hour, but that will be time-and-a-half for everything after 4 pm." 

"Jesus! Ninety bucks an hour? No way will she say no to that. I guess you can consider that your penance for fucking up my evening." 

"Deal. Just call her and get her in here, ASAP." 

Chris made the phone call to Tonya and told her the county was in dire straits with its computer and network situation. She, too, was a little irritated at the thought of giving up an evening alone with Chris. But, true to his word, she perked up when Chris told her that she would be doing me a personal favor by getting this whole situation un-fucked by morning. 

I even shouted from the background while Chris was on the phone with Tonya that both Chris and I would be more than happy to stick around the sheriff's office for however long it took Tonya to get the issues taken care of, a comment that earned the old stink-eye look and a flip of the bird from Chris as I said it. Tonya was only too happy to agree to that and commented on how much fun we could have and what kind of trouble the three of us could get into. 

The last comment, although totally expected, also was a very slight cause of concern as Tonya had previously intimated that there wasn't much in the way of rules when it came to her and Chris. Understanding that I made a quick phone call to my fiancée, Shannon Sullivan. 

"Hey, babe! What's up?" 

"Oh, not much, sweetheart. I just wanted to give you a quick call and let you know that I'm going to be working late tonight." 

"Aw, seriously?" 

"Yeah, I know. But I was wondering if you and Bridget might be interested in grabbing some pizza or Chinese and having supper with Chris, Tonya and me." 

"Yes! Anything to see you! I'll pick up Munchkin from my mom and we'll grab some food on the way. We should be there around 7:30 or so. Will that be too late?" 

"No, that should be fine. I'll let Chris and Tonya know that dinner's on us." 

"It's a date, love! See you soon! I love you!" 

"I love you, too, sweetheart!" And I hung up. 

Tonya arrived 30 minutes after Chris called her and immediately got to work. She was able to use my own authorization and started my computer in safe mode to run what she called an administrator level diagnostic test of the network, whatever the hell that is. 

Almost immediately she started spotting numerous technical glitches, software issues, firewall problems and a host of other computer and network issues that were way the hell over my head. A lot of it had to do with simple issues such as outdated firewall and virus protection but many of the problems were more severe. Tonya had us completely shut down all of the computers in our office and ordered us to shut down every county-owned computer in the county, if possible. 

It was a monumental task that required me contacting everyone from the supervisors on down to the county treasurer, auditor, engineer and so on. It took me nearly an hour to get ahold of everyone that could make it happen. By 7 pm, we were fairly certain that all or most of the computers affected were shut off. 

It was shortly after that point that Tonya ran into issues with the county Auditor's office and the county conservation office, which Tonya figured were most likely hardware issues that could be anything from malfunctioning equipment to a simple network connection that had come unplugged. She needed to get into both areas personally to see if she could diagnose and fix the problem. 

The revelations about the hardware issues came about just as Shannon and Bridget showed up with food from the Golden Dragon, which was about as "haute cuisine" for local Chinese food as you could get in Red River Falls. Well, it was better than Mandarin Express over at the Red River Mall's food court, anyway. 

"Patrick!" Bridget screeched as she ran to me for a big bear hug. 

"Hey, kiddo! Thanks for coming to see me!" 

"Mom said she missed you so we decided to bring you supper since we couldn't eat at home." 

"That was very thoughtful of you and your awesome mom!" 

"Hey, babe," Shannon cooed as she came over for a kiss. 

"Hey yourself, gorgeous," I said. I set Bridget down and she proceeded to explore the room. 

"Burning the midnight oil tonight?" 

"It's all these damned computer issues," I explained. "Our Director of Information Technology, Dean Strobe, seems to be checking out on us. Not sure what has been going on with him, exactly. But he is one guy whose absence is definitely noticed by the entire county." 

"Any idea what his problem is?" 

"Not sure, love. But he's been calling in sick an awful lot. And even when he's not sick, he is almost impossible to get ahold of. Every time I see him he just looks like death warmed over. Hopefully, we'll get to the bottom of it soon." 

"Good," Shannon said, kissing me deeply. "Because I have plans to make better use of your off-duty hours," she winked. Oh, the possibilities, indeed! 

"Hey, Bridget. Run to the room next door and tell the man and woman in there that we have supper ready." 

"Okay, Patrick," she said, scurrying off on her little mission. 

Tonya and Chris both rushed into our cramped briefing and conference room when the cute little courier had told them dinner had arrived. In fact, Chris had Bridget on his shoulders as they came in. 

"Tonya? I don't know that I've introduced you two or not, but this is my fiancée, Shannon Sullivan. Shannon, this is Tonya Hayes, Chris's wife." 

"Hi, Shannon. I'm Tonya. My God! You are gorgeous!" Tonya gushed. 

"Oh, thank you! You are absolutely stunning, yourself! I love all of your body art!" 

"Thank you. Some of them aren't quite finished yet, but they will be soon. I consider myself a living, breathing canvas." 

"Where did you have them all done?" Shannon asked. 

"I got a few done while I was still going to MIT. But the rest of them I've gotten since I moved back to Red River Falls over at The Skin Graft. Do you have any tats?" 

"Oh, no, I've never been quite that adventurous," Shannon blushed. 

"Oh, my God! You have perfect skin and an amazing body! My favorite artist would have an absolute joygasm if he got to ink you!" 

Chris Hayes and I just looked at each other and shook our heads as the two women exchanged pleasantries. I could tell that Shannon definitely found Tonya interesting and was the type of person who would accept a friend at face value, eccentricities and all. Tonya, on the other hand, was most definitely flirting with Shannon. Shannon might not have been flirting back with Tonya directly, but she was more than receptive to her charms. 

"Let's eat," Chris bellowed, clapping his hands and simultaneously breaking the building chemistry between the two women. "Got any Szechuan chicken in there?" 

"I got a variety," Shannon said. "I got moo shoo pork, cashew chicken, General Tso's chicken, sweet and sour chicken, lo mein, orange beef and Mongolian beef." 

"Sounds yummilicious!" Tonya chimed in. 

We dug into the various entrees while Bridget regaled us with her stories from school. She was now nearly 9 years old and a very precocious 3rd grader. She didn't care much for any of the entrees the adults were eating but opted for a chicken pot sticker and some noodles as well as the lion's share of the fortune cookies. 

Chris and I mostly ate in silence as we listened to Shannon and Tonya talk and talk and talk throughout the meal. It was apparent that they were becoming fast friends and even more apparent that Tonya was developing a serious girl crush on Shannon, the thoughts and possibilities of which, I am ashamed to admit, were excruciatingly tantalizing. 

Before we knew it the time had flown by and it was nearly 9 pm. Tonya still needed to get into the Auditor's office, which was easy enough as I could open it for her. The Auditor's office was located in the courthouse along with the Sheriff's office. However, the county conservation office was almost a mile away and I would need Alton Bergland to get access for us. 

I gave Alton a call and let Tonya into the Auditor's office so she could do her stuff. Sure enough, there was a simple network cable that had become kinked and frayed. Fortunately, Tonya was able to fix it easily and solve the Auditor's problem quickly. 

I said my goodnights to Shannon and Bridget and walked them to the car, thanking them both with hugs and kisses for bringing us all supper. 

"See you at home soon?" 

"Give me about an hour or so. Hopefully, I'll be home in time to watch the Tonight Show with you." 

"It's a date! I love you," she said, kissing me goodbye. 

"I love you, too. Be home in a bit!" 

Alton Bergland met Tonya, Chris and I at the conservation office. I could tell he was a little miffed at having to come in but I also know that he would have been more miffed if his network was still down in the morning. Alton was the county conservation director and was in charge of a lot of agricultural programs and also ran the county park system. 

"I sure as hell hope you get Dean straightened out for this," Alton chided me. 

"Well, I'm not sure it's my job to get him straightened out. I consider Dean a friend, though, and I'll certainly be talking to him about this." 

"Somebody needs to straighten his ass out, Pat." 

"Oh, come on, Alton. Dean is usually the best there is at this sort of thing." 

"You call this mess the best there is?!! You got a funny opinion on what doing a good job is, Pat. Dean doing a good job would mean my ass would be at home in bed instead of getting my computers fixed at 10 o'clock at night." 

"I said usually, Alton. It has only been in the last month or so that things have gotten out of hand. Mitch wants to have a meeting with everyone at some point and we'll get to the bottom of things." 

"We better," Alton gruffed, "or my foot is gonna find the bottom of Dean's ass!" 

"Oh, whatever, Alton," I said blowing him off. "I'm gonna see how Tonya's coming along." 


Grab Life by the Balls



At that moment, both Chris and Tonya came to the front door announcing that the problem was fixed. Sure enough, a network connection had come unplugged but was in a location that would not have been easy to find. 

"That's it? That's all there was to it?" Alton asked, incredulous. 

"Yep. Pretty easy fix," Tonya said. 

"Jesus," Alton said, shaking his head. "All that for a goddamned unplugged wire. You need to take care of this shit, Pat." 

"Why is it my responsibility?" 

"You just said he was a friend of yours. You sure as hell don't want me to have talk to him. There will be a lot less talking and a lot more ass whoopin' if I have to say something." 

I just rolled my eyes at Alton and turned away. 

"Hey, dammit! Don't you roll your goddamned eyes at me, Pat, or I'll -" 

"You'll what?!!" I demanded. "You'll what?!!" Alton just froze. "Don't get all high and mighty with me, Alton. I have no idea what Dean's problem is but, yes, he is a friend of mine. And I'm going to do whatever I have to in order to help my friend. He's been a phenomenal IT guy for this county so far, at least until lately. So spare me your bullshit until we have an actual answer, okay?" 

Alton took a deep breath. "Look, Pat, I was just -" 

"You were just being a pompous ass, Alton. You're lucky you got appointed to your position and didn't have to face an election like most county officials. You'd never get elected to be the fucking dog catcher!" 

Alton knew better than to say anything and just turned around to lock the conservation office and Chris, Tonya and I all headed to our cars. 

"I can't thank you enough, Tonya." 

"Oh, I can think of way, Patsy!" Chris just shook his head and unlocked his car. 

"No, really, Tonya. You did us a huge favor." 

"You're not out of the woods yet, Pat. There is still a lot more work to be done. Don't be surprised if your email is still goofed up. And I would seriously limit or eliminate the use of thumb drives as much as possible. Memory sticks are self-executing and spread viruses like the plague." 

"Okay," I chuckled. "I'll do that." 

We said our goodbyes and headed home for the night. True to my word, I was home in time to crawl into bed just as Jimmy Fallon took the stage for his opening monologue. 

Even though it was a fairly warm spring night, I saw that Shannon was tucked under the covers, bedspread and all. That could only mean one thing. I stripped down to my boxers and crawled underneath the covers and was rewarded with the feel of my lover's smooth, naked body. She turned to me and our lips met in a steel melting kiss. She didn't waste any time stripping off my boxers and climbed on top, our lips and tongues enmeshed with one another the entire time. 

Shannon was wet and primed and I slid in easily. I had been rock hard with anticipation ever since I left the conservation office. Eventually, she sat up, closed her eyes and rocked herself to a gentle first orgasm while I worked her clit with my thumb for extra stimulation. She then collapsed on me and we kissed for a while as I continued to slowly but firmly thrust in an out of her to keep her orgasm at a plateau. 

I decided that I wanted to get a taste of her and I gently rolled her off of me. With each of us on our sides I lifted up her leg and took control of her pussy with my mouth as she swallowed me whole. It wasn't long before she started careening towards another body-quaking orgasm and she forcefully thrust my hips back and ejected my cock from her mouth. 

I flipped around again and entered her missionary. Our fluid-covered lips met again in fury and lust and it wasn't long before I felt that familiar dull ache in my groin that signaled my balls were about to erupt. Shannon broke from our fervent kissing and began panting and moaning. 

"Oh, yes, Patrick! Please cum for me! Fill me all the way up!" she panted. 

"Oh, God, Shannon! You feel so damned good!" I groaned. My cock started spasming inside her and I unleashed a torrent of cum. 

"God, I can feel you erupting inside me, Patrick! There's just so much!" 

We lay there for several minutes, still locked in a carnal embrace. Both of us were completely spent. 

We fell asleep shortly thereafter locked in each other's arms. But some time in the early morning hours I awoke and couldn't get back to sleep. I was troubled by what was going on with Dean Strobe and I was irritated that I hadn't yet found the source. 

Dean was not the type of person to blow off his duties. He had always presented an appearance of polished professionalism. I had often wondered if his knowledge of and use of computers might rival Tonya's but that notion was definitely dispelled by his performance and actions as of late. 

I finally fell asleep around three AM after deciding that I would definitely get to the bottom of things tomorrow. 

Shannon was at work by seven the next morning and I helped Bridget get ready for school. She could have taken the bus but she always felt more important when I dropped her off at school in my fully marked Ford Expedition with the words 'Mason County Sheriff' emblazoned in reflective letters and striping down the side. Bridget loved it when I flipped on the emergency flashers and gave her a quick blurb or two from the siren as I pulled away from the curb. 

As I arrived at the office I was greeted by my secretary, Karen Landingham. 

"Pat? Mitch Monahan called just a moment ago. There is an emergency meeting scheduled downstairs in the supervisor's meeting room at 9 o'clock. All of the department heads and elected officials are requested to attend." 

"Did Mitch say what it was about?" 

Karen seemed apprehensive. "He said it pertained to Dean." 

"Okay," I nodded, as I turned and headed into my office. 

I checked my email first thing but, just as Tonya said, it appeared the email system was still fouled up. I had been hoping she would be able to fix it today but she said she had other business that would take up most of the day, plus she still needed to check in with her employees at the record and computer store she owned. The earliest she said she could help us wouldn't be until after four o'clock. 

Part of me wondered if Chris Hayes hadn't told her to say that, just to keep her working at time-and-a-half instead of the standard rate. Oh, well. It was what it was and I couldn't really force her to do anything. Besides, as good as she was with computers, I'd take her help whenever we could get it. 

At ten minutes to nine, I started making my way downstairs to the second level of the courthouse. The entire top fourth floor of the aging building belonged to the Sheriff's department, which is also where our crumbling jail was located. The Assessor, Auditor, Treasurer, Veterans Affairs Director, Recorder, Clerk of Court, Driver's License Station and County Attorney all had their offices scattered throughout the building. The two main court rooms, judge's chambers and the county supervisors' offices and meeting rooms were all located on the second floor of the building. 

I did have one Deputy who worked in the basement of the building, too, and that was Deputy Lieutenant Amy Van Deekum who was in charge of the jail and also ran our property and evidence room. I was damned lucky to be able to find her the additional space and only because FEMA determined that the original fallout shelter no longer met federal standards. It was yet another of many headaches I would try to cure with the fall referendum for the new public safety center. 

All of the elected officials and department heads were present and gathered at the tables, which had been arranged in a large square so everyone could see one another. At the far right and center was a spot that had been reserved for Dean Strobe. Damn! This was going to be like bringing a lamb to the slaughter. Everyone was pissed at Dean for what had been going on lately. I knew that Dean needed to be dealt with but I didn't think a public bitch session was the way to go about it. 

Most everyone was casually visiting with each other when I had walked in and I could over hear the light chatting, which was almost entirely about Dean. I wouldn't consider Dean an extremely close friend but I would most definitely call him a friend. Considering how things were going for him lately, it was obvious I wasn't THAT kind of a friend that you call when you are going through a rough patch. But we were friends and Clarissa and I had traded dinners in our homes with Dean and his wife Mercedes back when Clarissa and I were still married. 

Mitch asked everyone to take their seats and then announced that he would bring Dean in to speak with us. I was actually surprised, since Mitch had mentioned yesterday that he thought Dean was going to be out of the office for the remainder of the week. We all sat down and waited about a minute or two before Dean arrived with Mitch. The main entrance to the room was closed and signs posted that said, 'Closed Door Meeting in Session. No Admittance'. 

Dean Strobe looked like hell. His clothing looked as if he slept in them last night, it was obvious that he hadn't showered today as his hair was completely unkempt and he hadn't shaved. He had every bit of the look of a defeated man about him and I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why. 

Dean was smart, decent-looking, personable but not arrogant. He was friendly but not boorish. He was a good conversationalist and very knowledgeable but not a ham. He was social but didn't need to be the center of attention. His wife, Mercedes, was very pretty and bubbly. They had two kids, a boy and a girl, and they had always seemed to be an idyllic family. Mercedes was definitely the more outgoing of the two and could get downright silly at parties, especially after a few glasses of wine or champagne. 

By most accounts, you probably wouldn't picture the two of them together. Mercedes was definitely more the cheerleader type and Dean had a bit of a nerdy edge to him. But upon further thought, you realized that there wasn't really any good reason why the two of them shouldn't be together, either. I could only wonder if things in Dean's personal life were the root cause of his dramatic drop in his job performance. 

"Dean," Mitch Monahan began, "I'm glad you were able to join us here for this meeting." 

"I'm glad I could help," he said softly. 

"Dean, the reason we have all gathered here this morning is because all of us have concerns regarding our network and each department's ability to use it. In particular we all have some questions and concerns we would like to address with you. It is the general consensus that numerous technical problems have seriously hampered our work and the mission of each county department. I'm going to go around the room as almost everyone has issues they would like to address directly. We'll start with County Treasurer, Ann Dunseth. Madam Treasurer?" This meeting was definitely ominous if Mitch was being this formal. 

"Mr. Strobe," Ann began, keeping it heavy and formal. "We have been catching a lot of flack from the public because of ongoing issues with the network. Citizens come to our office daily to get licenses, renew licenses, and register vehicles and such. We have auto dealers who are very irate with us as they are losing sales because of issues with trying to title and register a new car with us - all because of ongoing problems with our computers. 

"We have had to turn people away numerous times and ask them to return on a day when our system is functioning and pray that it is actually working when they return. People coming from Royal Fork on the far western part of the county have to drive forty-five minutes to get here. They get absolutely incensed when we turn them away. This doesn't even account for the problems it causes me and my staff in our regular work duties. Can you explain any of this?" 

Dean fidgeted in his chair and it was obvious that he was struggling with something to say. "Uh, I, uh...I mean, Madam Treasurer, I'm aware that there are problems with the network. And I assure you that, uh, I am aware of your situation and have made it a priority to address those problems. As of this morning, the overall network seems to be running well and we got a lot of problems ironed out yesterday, uh, even though I was, uh, out of the office." 

Mitch Monahan turned in his seat and looked at me directly for a moment. I caught the same gaze from Chuck Pope before both men returned their attention to Dean. 

"Uh, along with that, uh, Madam Treasurer, I, uh, realize that there are still issues with the email and, uh, I intend to have those problems taken care of by this afternoon." 

"Good!" Ann Dunseth said, with no small amount of edge in her voice. "Because my staff and I will be working this weekend to try and get caught up. It isn't fair of them to have to do that and I really don't have a lot of wiggle room in my own budget for the over time I'm going to have to pay." 

"I apologize again, Madam Treasurer." 

Next up was the county auditor, followed by the assessor and the behind-closed-doors flogging continued. Dean Strobe sat there the entire time meekly answering questions and giving canned answers - I'll take care of it; it's on my to-do list for this afternoon; I'll make it the highest priority - Dean did his best to tell everyone what they wanted to hear. But his demeanor and appearance belied his stated intentions. 

All I could think as I was sitting there was that it felt like we were making fun of a dying cancer patient or something. Instead of finding out if Dean had some genuine problem that we could help him with all anyone did was focus on their own problems and worry about when Dean was going to get around to finding a solution. But I didn't have to participate in this directly and I had no intentions to. 

Most of the people in the room were, like me, elected officials. They had reputations and public images they needed to uphold in order to keep their positions. Snafus in their office, even those related to Dean, could pose problems for the next election and give an opponent plenty of fodder for how poorly that particular office was being run. Dean's glaring personal problems were a political liability and had to be quashed. The thought alone sickened me. 

"Sheriff?" Mitch Monahan finally asked when everyone else was finished. "You haven't said anything yet. Do you have any questions or concerns for Dean you'd like to address?" 

I glared at Mitch for a moment or two, causing him to narrow his eyes in defense. "No," I finally said. "I have some questions for Dean but I'd prefer to speak with him directly." 

"Uh...very well, then," Mitch said, sheepishly. "Well, if there are no more questions or comments I'd like to thank everyone for their time. And Dean, I hope that we can get these problems cleared up quickly so additional measures can be avoided." The last statement had most everyone in the room but me nodding their head in agreement. They were all seething at Dean, including Mitch. 

I was bugged and irritated by the tech problems we were having. Sure, they were a major inconvenience. But I prided myself on the fact that I always regarded the people working for me as my greatest asset. Dean wasn't a direct employee of mine but he still did a lot of work for our office and I felt somewhat responsible for him. But he did not, in any way, deserve the humiliation that he was just subjected to. He quickly left the room looking more deflated than ever. 

Meredith Alcorn, Mason County Recorder, was the last one to leave the room before Mitch and me, which left just the two of us. 

"Well," Mitch breathed as he stuffed his laptop back in its case. "I thought that went pretty well. Hopefully things will improve, huh?" 

"What, are you fucking kidding me?" 

Mitch stopped. "What? I thought you wanted this problem solved, too." 

"I do, Mitch. But not like this." 

"I don't follow." 

"All we did was humiliate the living shit out of a good man today, Mitch. Dean has been a loyal and dedicated employee for this county ever since he got here." 

"Dedication is fine, Pat, but poor performance affects us all. You should know that as well as anybody." 

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe there is a reason for all of this? Dean is absolutely incapable of being incompetent unless something is really, really bothering him. Did it ever cross your mind to maybe ask him if there is a problem? Anything we can help him with?" 

"Dean's been an employee of this county for a while, Pat. He should be very familiar with the benefits and services that are provided to county employees, including our employee assistance program. He can get free and confidential help any time he needs." 

"Lots of people don't ask for help, even when they really need it." 

"We can only offer the help, Pat. We can't make him use it." 

"Wow, Mitch. I really like to think we're better than that." 

Mitch let out a sigh of frustration. "All I know Pat is that we have a severely underperforming employee and one that EVERYONE in this county depends on a great deal. I need you to be a friend here, Pat, and support us on this. If Dean doesn't get his crap together, we are going to have to fire his ass. And this particular stick of dynamite has a damned short fuse, if you get my drift." 

"And all I know, Mitch," I said, walking up to him and staring him eye to eye, "is that if you ever...ever...EVER publicly humiliate and assassinate another long time county employee like that again, I am seriously going to punch you...in your fucking... throat!" I headed out the door to the meeting room, turned one last time for emphasis and said, "your fucking THROAT!" 

I just hope the poor bastard didn't trip over his own jaw when he finally collected himself enough to leave. 

***** 

It was a good thing that the meeting took place on Friday because I really needed to have a weekend off. True to his word, Dean managed to get the email system back up and running again. However, he left as soon as that was done and subsequently failed to get some long-awaited software installed in the system for the county Veterans Affairs office, which royally pissed off the VA administrator. No sooner had Dean solved one of his problems than he had dug another hole for himself elsewhere. 

There wasn't much I could do so I was determined as hell to enjoy the Memorial Day weekend and the unofficial start of summer. 

Every village, town and city in the Midwest has their own local holiday or festival and Red River Falls was certainly no exception. Every year, on Memorial Day weekend, the entire downtown area of Red River Falls shuts down for The Great Gateway Festival. The Great Gateway Festival harkens back to the days when Red River Falls was founded and served as a gateway on the pioneer trails leading to the great northwest territories of Wyoming, Montana and Oregon. 

The festival consisted of a massive parade, a huge carnival that completely encompassed the park located at the central square, and numerous other events. There was a Civil War reenactment in a nearby park, as well as a huge Barbecue competition. A band shell was set up on one of the closed off streets and there were street dances held on Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. 

Shannon and I decided to take her daughter Bridget and my boys, Nick and Jake, and catch some of the events of the festival, starting with the parade Saturday morning. The weather was absolutely perfect, the streets were lined with thousands of spectators and I actually was able to enjoy myself. 

The Red River Falls police department provided most of the staffing for the three day festival with only minor auxiliary staffing coming from my department as well as most of our reserve deputies, the police reserves and the Civilian Emergency Response Team. Besides, Chief Roy Banks detested having to work any closer with the sheriff's department than he absolutely had to - a grudge that went back to the days of my predecessor, Sheriff William "Bud" Roberts. 




Grab Life by the Balls



The parade was enjoyable and entertaining. There were a few very well done floats but the majority of entries were local businesses who used the parade for free advertising. Personally, I enjoyed a lot of the antique cars, tractors and equestrian entries. The parade was so long that it lasted for well over two hours. 

Afterwards Shannon, Nick, Jake, Bridget and I headed over to the huge carnival to sample some food, rides and games. We had just gotten there when our group ran into some unexpected company. 

"Patrick?" I turned to see that it was none other than my ex-wife, Clarissa. 

"Clarissa," I said, smiling and feigning some charm. "What a surprise." 

"Mom!" The boys ran over and each hugged her simultaneously, which elicited a smile that actually resembled joy, though somewhat melancholy, too. 

"Hey, boys! What a neat surprise!" 

"We just got done watching the parade and we're going to the carnival. Wanna come along?" Jake asked eagerly. 

"I'd love to, but I'm waiting for some people. We'll be over in a few minutes, okay?" 

"Okay, Mom," Nick answered. 

"Here, Nick," I said, handing him a twenty dollar bill. "Why don't you go get some ride tickets and we'll be over in a bit, too. Take Bridget with you and take her on a ride, too." 

"Sweet! Thanks, Dad! See you over there, Mom!" And they all three ran off like a shot. 

"Bye, Mom!" Bridget called back to Shannon. The three kids absolutely adored each other. I hoped it would last as Nick and Jake seemed genuinely protective of Bridget and viewed her as a little sister. 

"We'll meet you by the bumper cars," I yelled after them. "And, Nick, make sure you share with your brother and Bridget!" 

I turned back towards Clarissa. It dawned on me that Clarissa and Shannon had never met. 

"Clarissa," I started, sheepishly, "this is Shannon Sullivan...my fiancée. Bridget is her little girl." 

Clarissa smiled but I could tell she bristled a bit when I said fiancée. "It's very nice to meet you, Shannon. I've heard many good things about you from Nick and Jake and they adore Bridget. She's the spitting image of you." 

"Thank you, Clarissa," Shannon said. "Nick and Jake are absolutely awesome young men. I can tell you are an incredible mom." 

"Thank you, Shannon. And I just have to say that you are stunningly beautiful." 

"Thank you," Shannon blushed. "I was just gonna say you look amazing yourself," she gushed. 

I distinctly remember another conversation earlier this week that sounded eerily similar when I introduced Shannon to Tonya Fulbright-Hayes. I really, really, really hoped that my ex-wife wasn't about to start crushing on my new fiancée. That could be incredibly awkward. 

And incredibly cool in away, I suppose. 

"You said you were waiting for some people?" I interjected, hoping to chill the girl talk. 

"Yes. Actually," Clarissa said. "Here they come now." 

Oh, shit. I looked in the direction that Clarissa was and was absolutely floored to see who was approaching. It was none other than my former mother, Ms. Caroline Bennett and her significant other, Martin Belmond. 

I was actually genuinely surprised, in a good way, to see those two. The third member of the party was someone I was NOT happy to see. And that individual was a gentleman by the name of Tom Wellington, a local businessman and the man who ran against me in my inaugural run for sheriff. 

"Patrick! My God! Is it really you?" Caroline rushed up and embraced me firmly. 

"Yes, it is," I replied, forcing the air out of my lungs from her bear hug. 

"You look absolutely incredible." 

"Thank you, Caroline. I'd like to introduce you to my fiancée, Shannon Sullivan." 

"My goodness, you're beautiful! Pleasure to meet you," was all she could say. 

"Thank you so much!" Shannon blushed. 

"Where are my handsome grandsons?" Caroline demanded. 

"They ran ahead of us over to the carnival. I think they wanted to get a head start on the fun." 

"Patrick!" Martin Belmond extended his hand to me and I shook it eagerly. I genuinely liked this man. "I was sincerely hoping we'd get a chance to run into you on our visit. It's quite fortuitous that we got to meet." 

"It is indeed, it is indeed. Martin," I said, turning toward Shannon, "I already introduced Caroline but this is my fiancée, Shannon Sullivan. Her little girl, Bridget, ran ahead with Nick and Jake over to the carnival." 

"A pleasure, Shannon," Martin said, extending his hand. 

"Likewise," Shannon said. 

"It is very nice to meet you, Shannon," Caroline said, shaking hands too. "Nick and Jake absolutely raved about you when they visited us at Easter." 

"I absolutely adore your grandsons, too, Ms Bennett," Shannon replied. 

"Oh, stop with the formalities!" Caroline half-chided, smiling. "Please call me Caroline." 

"Okay, thank you, Caroline." 

"Well, well, well," Tom Wellington said, strolling up behind Clarissa and placing his arm around her waist as a sign of male ownership. "If it isn't our esteemed sheriff." 

"Hello, Tom," I mustered. It was all I could do to be polite. The idea of Clarissa dating someone had crossed my mind often and the thought never bothered me. At least, that is, it didn't bother me until I heard that she began dating Tom Wellington. Tom was a man that I could only describe as a cooty. He was a fairly successful local businessman who apparently thought that business success could automatically equate to being sheriff. After all, being a cop can't be that hard, can it? 

"So what brings the good sheriff out of his office high atop the courthouse on this lovely day?" God, he was a condescending prick. 

"The same as you, Tom. Just enjoying the festival along with my family. By the way, allow me to introduce you to my fiancée, Shannon Sullivan." 

The next moment was priceless for me. My ex-wife, Clarissa, was still a very good-looking woman at 5'6", blond hair that she had obviously recently re-colored, and possessed a trim athletic body. But Clarissa couldn't hold a candle to Shannon's statuesque 5'10" frame, perfect hour glass shape and incredible D cup breasts and gorgeous face and complexion. The cocky 'cat-who-ate-the-canary' look Tom had on his face while trying to flaunt his relationship with Clarissa quickly disappeared when he took in the site of Shannon. The fact that Shannon had on a white cotton tank top, Daisy Dukes and a pair of stylish flip-flops showing off her freshly painted nails was enough to stop any man dead in his tracks. 

Best of all? Clarissa saw and immediately gave Tom a death stare. 

"Pleased to meet you, Shannon," Tom said, offering his hand and wearing a really stupid grin. He just went from successful businessman to Neanderthal in one fell swoop. 

"Come on," Caroline said, breaking the ice. "Let's all stroll over to the carnival and see what the kids are up to. It will give us girls a chance to get to know one another." 

"I'd like that," Shannon said. 

"Me, too," Clarissa said, softening a bit. But not before she gave Tom another glare. 

Tom Wellington kept pace with Clarissa, the two of them holding hands. But Clarissa didn't appear to be any more comfortable with even the slightest public displays of affection than she had been when we were married. It looked as though she tolerated it with Tom but not much more than that. I hope the poor bastard knows what he's getting himself into. 

Martin Belmond and I slowly sauntered our way over to the carnival behind the girls and Tom. Doing so gave us a chance to catch up a bit on our own. 

"So how are you and Caroline doing these days?" 

"Well, it's funny you should ask that question, Patrick. Things are going quite well for us. There have been some new and interesting developments that have really taken our relationship to another level, I must say." 

"Terrific! You look great, by the way. Considerably slimmer than the last time we met in Minneapolis." 

"Indeed. I've lost over 60 pounds. In fact, because of my newfound health, my physician has been able to drastically cut back on many of the various heart mediations I had been taking. In fact, I'm also no longer taking insulin for my diabetes but am able to control it with diet, exercise and non-insulin medications. I feel better than I have in years, Patrick." 

"That's incredible, Martin." 

"Yes, it is. And, if I may get a bit more personal, it has also resulted in my physician being able to finally prescribe some medications that have allowed Caroline and me to enjoy a physical relationship now instead of just a deeply emotional one." 

"Really?" I was genuinely surprised, mostly because of Martin sharing this with me than anything. Thank God for modern medicine, I suppose. 

"It isn't perfect, by any means. Sometimes it works well, sometimes not as much. But it has at least taken that part of our relationship from non-existent to at least occasional." 

We continued to stroll along with the others towards the festival. People could probably hear us but no one was paying attention, too absorbed they were in the sights and sounds of the festival. 

"Of course," he continued, "I still allow Caroline to enjoy certain proclivities outside of our own bedroom activities. While we are able to consummate our feelings for one another on occasion, it certainly isn't frequent enough to truly keep a woman as vivacious as Caroline completely satisfied. She limits her activities and enjoys them only with individuals who are thoroughly vetted by people I trust to ensure safety and the utmost discretion." 

"With all due respect, Martin, how does that make you feel?" 

"Patrick, you're an incredibly intelligent man, even though you don't give yourself enough credit for it. So permit me to pay you the compliment of being blunt even at the risk of sounding brash and arrogant. I'm a self-made man, Patrick. I made my first million less than eighteen months after graduating from the Wharton School of Business. Ten years later, I surpassed a net worth of 100 million dollars. 

"Now, I'm sitting at a comfortable net worth of nearly 650 million dollars and it continues to grow daily. I've accomplished everything that I ever set out to do. In short, Patrick, I have nothing to prove to any man on what it means to be a success in life and I need validation or approval from no one." 

"I understand," I said. 

"I knew you would, Patrick. So when it comes to my relationship with Caroline, I take comfort in knowing that I can provide a life for Caroline that she never could have dreamed of with any other man. And, in a very real way, I still can provide the sexual fulfillment that she needs - whether it's with me or someone of my choosing." 

"I have to say I admire you for that, Martin. I'm not sure I could be so trusting and confident in that regard." 

"Things change as we get older, Patrick. I've learned to look at things from a different perspective. My first wife, Sophie, died of cancer, as you well know. I have the relationship with Caroline that I do because of the relationship that I had with Sophie. Sophie and I did it right. I loved her from the moment I met her until the day she passed away in my arms in that hospital bed. 

"I care for Caroline, deeply. I'm quite sincere in that regard. But Sophie will always be my wife, in my mind. Sophie was truly my soul mate. Caroline and I can be something special when we are together. But we can also remain confident and secure in our relationship with one another even when we're apart. I deny her nothing and expect only her love and companionship. I'll provide everything else she needs." 

"You're an amazing man, Martin." 

"Caroline and I both think you're an amazing man, too, Patrick. Caroline still thinks quite highly of you. She was genuinely pained by what happened between you and Clarissa. She truly felt you deserved better. Neither Caroline nor I hold Tom Wellington in as high esteem as we do you, Patrick. For what it is worth, you will always be very special to Caroline." 

"Thank you, Martin. That means a lot." 

We continued our stroll towards the carnival to catch up with the ladies and Tom. They had managed to gain quite a lead on us as Martin and I visited. 

"So, how are things in the ever exciting world of law enforcement?" 

"Things are going well, I must say." 

"I imagine it is quite different being the king instead of a pawn, so to speak." 

"Yeah," I chuckled, "it definitely is. But in a good way. I'm currently putting together my budget for next year as well as a proposal for a new public safety center that I am hoping can get put up for a public referendum either this year or next. This year might be pushing it, but I can always hope." 

"What does this new facility consist of? And is there any way I can help to bring it to fruition?" 

"Well, since you ask, it would be a multi-department facility that would house a new sheriff's office, a Red River Falls police headquarters, and a new fire station for the city of Red River Falls. Additionally, it would also contain a new county jail that would increase our capacity from 40 inmates to nearly 300 inmates. It would be a facility that could potentially serve the needs of many interests. We have also looked at incorporating a public wellness and recreation center, as well, and the National Guard is even considering attaching a new armory to the complex." 

"Sounds quite ambitious, I must say," Martin said. 

"It is. It is going to take a lot of politicking to get it done. Even though I hold an elected office I've never been much of a politician." 

"Everyone finds themselves a politician from time to time, whether we like it or not," Martin mused. 

"I would agree. I just don't have much of a taste for it." 

"Have you got a plan for financing it?" 

"Well, I'm off to a start as we qualified for a Federal Emergency Management Agency grant by incorporating a public emergency shelter in the facility. That grant alone will help offset the cost by nearly $3 million. But we have a ways to go on the rest." 

"How much do you think it will cost by the time it is completed?" 

I let out a long sigh. "All told, it will probably cost between $30 and $40 million by the time it is done." 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked. 

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Can you give me a grant?" 

"Absolutely, I can give you a grant, Patrick. If you'll allow me to, I can have your public safety center completed in a year. I have made it a point to support numerous public safety agencies with my charitable foundation over the years and have purchased needed equipment and facilities for many departments." 

"That sounds amazing, Martin. And I truly would welcome the help. But I couldn't ask you to pay for more than half of it. I feel strongly that the public needs to take some ownership of it as well." 

"I agree also, Patrick, and for the exact same reason. If given too much, some individuals will expect it every time and will do nothing to merit it." 

We arrived at the carnival and met up with everyone near the bumper cars. Nick and Bridget were riding in a car together while Jake rode by himself. Judging by the smiles and screams and laughter, they were having the time of their lives. 

"Well," I said, extending my hand to Martin, "this has been one of the most promising and productive walks of my life. I want to thank you for your generous offer. And I would like to submit an actual proposal for a grant, too, just to make it official. I want you to know every last detail about the project from the moment we break ground to the minute the paint dries." 

"I'd like that, Patrick. Any time you need anything, please don't hesitate to call." 

"Thank you, Martin." 

"It was nice seeing you all," Clarissa said, "but I think we're going to head over to Riverside Park to catch the arts and crafts fair. I said goodbye to the boys already. I'll pick them up later this afternoon around four. We're going to join Mom and Martin at their lake home on Lake Osakis, if that's all right with you." 

"Absolutely," I said. "I'm sure Nick and Jake will have a blast." 

Clarissa gave me a somewhat sad smile and turned towards Shannon. "It was very nice to meet you, Shannon." And then, unexpectedly, Clarissa leaned in for a hug from Shannon. It was a longer embrace and I could tell that Clarissa was whispering something in Shannon's ear. 

Once Clarissa and her group had left, my curiosity got the best of me. 

"What the hell was that all about?" I demanded. 

"Relax, Patrick. Clarissa and her mother were both incredibly nice." 

"Even so, what was with the chick hug?" 

"Patrick, she told me that it was nice meeting me and that your boys both adore me. Then she made me promise her that I wouldn't treat you the way she did." 

Mind...blown. 

"Really? She said that?" 

"Maybe she's learned her lesson, Patrick. Maybe she isn't the cold heartless bitch she used to be. Give her a break. She's still your kids' mom." 

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I said, softening a bit. 

"And, by the way, I can only hope that I look as good as your former mother does when I'm her age." 

"Yeah, me too," I laughed, hugging her and squeezing her. 

"I'm sure you do, Mister Quinn, you evil seducer of mothers. I sure hope you don't lust after my own mom that way!" 

"Not a chance, although your mother is very hot for her age." 

"Oh, my god! You DO lust after her!" 

"Not gonna happen, babe. Not in a million years. You're the only one I lust after from here on out!" 

It was true. I had, indeed, previously been seduced by, and subsequently seduced, my own mother. It was well after my then-wife Clarissa had been deep into a long-term affair with my predecessor and previous boss, Sheriff Bud Roberts. Probably doesn't justify my behavior, it was just one more bad decision of many bad decisions that were made by quite a few people back then. 

And, yes, I had confessed everything to Shannon after we had started seeing each other. We agreed that we wanted to be completely transparent with one another. So one evening, over some great food and a bottle of wine, we completely cleared the air on our respective sexual histories with the ground rule that we would remain completely open-minded and non-judgmental. It was also with the understanding that once spoken and out in the open it was not allowed to be fodder for any future arguments. 

With Shannon, her side of the conversation was pretty simple. She had only been with one partner previous to me and that was Bridget's father, William Raymond Jackson. And I actually had the dubious honor of being able to say that I had killed the one previous sexual partner of Shannon's, which I had done after he had attempted to kidnap his own daughter. 

My confession took a little longer and was fairly pedestrian for a guy, or so I thought. At least that was until I got to the part of Caroline and I. Shannon had sat on the edge of her seat as I told her of my brief and torrid affair with Caroline. To my surprise she eagerly asked questions, some of them quite detailed and intimate. I held back nothing. I figured if this was my one chance to get it out in the open, then I wanted Shannon to have absolutely no doubt in her mind about what happened and the fact that it would never happen again. 

Nothing sexual happened between Shannon and I that evening. I think it took her a while to digest everything she had heard. But a few nights later, Shannon was absolutely insatiable and literally tried to fuck me into another dimension. Moreover, she was pretty much that way for the remainder of the week and for the week after, too. Our lovemaking was still pretty raucous but not like it had been after my confession. 

Now that she had met Caroline face-to-face I could only hope that perhaps it had sparked something yet again in Shannon to repeat those amazing two weeks. 




Grab Life by the Balls



The three kids got done with their bumper car ride and immediately asked to go get some cotton candy, corn dogs and sodas, to which I figured 'why the hell not'? 

On our way to the food stands I caught site of something incredibly odd. I saw Dean Strobe walking around with his two children, Brandon and Brynne. The kids appeared happy but Dean still had the appearance of having just lost his best friend. 

But weirdest of all was the fact that walking behind Dean and his kids was Dean's wife, Mercedes, walking arm in arm with another man. And if memory served me, it was someone absolutely no damned good - Brad Weston. 

Brad Weston was nothing short of an opportunist and a snake in the grass. He was one of those men who had a reputation and it wasn't a good one. I'd have to say that most women would probably find him physically attractive but I would hope like hell that his personality and general attitude towards women would be one hell of a turnoff. 

Dean saw me standing there. He looked at me and just nodded me a 'hello' and kept on walking with the kids. The kids seemed happier but not by much and were at least distracted by the games and rides and Dean steered them in the direction of a ticket booth. 

Mercedes and Brad saw Shannon and me and immediately walked over to us giggling like teenagers. 

"Hey, Shannon!" 

"Hi, Mercedes." Shannon smiled but it was obviously forced. 

"Hello, Pat. I don't think I've seen you since you got elected sheriff. Congratulations!" 

"Thank you, Mercedes," I said, forcing a smile. I was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on with her, Brad and Dean. Whatever the hell it was Mercedes and Brad seemed to be all for it while Dean was the odd man out. "Funny we should all run into each other like this." 

"Totally! Brad decided to come over and hang out with us for the day and we all decided to have some fun at the carnival." 

"So how do you like being the head motherfucker in charge now, Pat?" Brad asked me with a shit-eating grin with a punch to my left arm. I could see Shannon was taken aback by the crude remark. Brad was also ogling Shannon from head to toe, which made me want to crush his windpipe. 

"So far so good. It has its ups and downs just like any job. But I'm happy to be able to serve the people of this county," I said, rehashing a line from my campaign. 

"Yeah, except now you can kick some serious ass and pretty much do whatever you want, right?" 

"Well, Brad, even the sheriff is not above the law," which was true, even though I had bent more than a few rules in the past to save my ass and protect the public interest. "By the way, where did Dean and the kids go?" 

Mercedes' demeanor sagged a bit. "Oh, I think they went to get tickets for the rides. We should probably catch up. Nice seeing you all!" 

"See ya later, sheriff!" Brad said, punching me on the shoulder again. I simply returned a half-smile and a nod. I really didn't like the way he had been eye fucking Shannon while we talked. 

When they were out of ear shot I looked at Shannon and said, "How exactly do you know Mercedes?" 

"She's on one of the hospital foundation committees." 

"What was the deal with Brad Weston?" 

"I have no idea," she said. "This isn't the first time I've seen them together, though. But it is the first time that I've seen them together like that with Dean and the kids around." 

"I think I have a better idea of what Dean's problem is," I said to Shannon who nodded back. 

"Brad Weston is trouble, I can certainly tell you that. He has a real preference for the ladies, especially those who wear a ring on their finger," Shannon added, pointing to her engagement ring. 

"Well, let's get the kids a bite to eat and have some more fun," I said, changing the subject. 

I did look back one more time and saw Dean Strobe standing along the fence surrounding the Tilt-A-Whirl that his kids were riding. Mercedes and Brad continued to stroll along the midway, only now they were overtly holding hands. Dean appeared to be staring at them longingly and then caught site of me staring at him. I nodded to him and gave him a wave, which he returned before turning his attention back towards his kids. 

We spent nearly two hours at the carnival, eventually just caving in and buying the kids the unlimited rides wrist bands. I also farted off nearly $150 on carnival games for the kids, making sure that each of them brought home a prize or a stuffed animal that they could have bought for a total of about $20 in any store. But they were happy and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. 

It really didn't even bother me that much that Clarissa and Shannon seemed to have gotten along so well. Maybe I had underestimated Clarissa's ability to change back to the girl she was when I first knew her. Although I could never trust myself enough to allow me to love her romantically again, perhaps I could at least learn to trust her as a friend. She was still the mother of my two boys and I wouldn't change that for anything. 

I had been chatting with a friend of mine, Neil Lomax, while Shannon followed the kids around the carnival. As soon as Neil and I were finished, Tom Wellington showed up and managed to really spoil my otherwise fantastic mood. 

"Are the kids enjoying the carnival?" he asked. 

"They're having a ball," I said, trying to be polite. "Where's Clarissa and the rest?" 

"They're still over at the craft show and getting ready to head over to the Civil War re-enactment. Apparently, Martin is a history buff." 

"What brings you back this way?" 

"I have some other appointments on my schedule this weekend, Pat. I have a business to run and don't have the luxury of working government hours." 

I bit my tongue - for the moment at least. 

"So I hear through the grapevine that you have a grand vision of replacing the sheriff's department with some palatial structure on the north end of down town." Tom was talking unusually loud for a one-on-one conversation. As I glanced around, I could see people looking at us and it dawned on me what he was trying to do. He wanted an audience. 

"We are looking at ways of improving our facilities and delivering better service to the people of Mason County, yes." 

"At a cost of $30 or $40 million dollars?" he asked, smirking. 

"Well, Tom, I'm not sure you can really put a price tag on public safety, can you?" 

Tom's smirk disappeared. "I think part of a sheriff's job ought to be wise stewardship of the public funds, Pat. Don't you?" 

"I can assure you that a new public safety center will be an exceptionally good use of public funds and will, over time, actually contribute to a steady decrease in operating costs, compared to what we're doing now." 

"How can you possibly find some kind of a net margin in a $40 million project that has absolutely no hope of generating any kind of a profit? That's just not good business, Pat." 

Jesus, I wanted to gut this guy like a fish right about now. "I realize, Sheriff, that you don't have any experience working in the private sector," he droned on, "but I do. And I think fiscal responsibility has to be one of your top priorities."  

"My top priority, Tom, is protecting the public. That is what the sheriff's office is for," I emphasized. I had to tell myself over and over not to let this guy get the best of me. 

"I should think you could improve your facilities for half of that, Pat. Focus on the sheriff's office, that's your jurisdiction. All the rest of this nonsense in your proposal is just pork. And there's enough pork in your proposal to make everyone at this carnival a ham sandwich." Tom's jibe actually got a few people laughing, which really irritated me. 

"Well, that's your opinion. But my proposal is going to go forward as is because it is the right thing to do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to spending time with my family." 

"You're going to force me to run for sheriff again, Pat," he said as I walked away. 

I just pretended I didn't even hear the remark and headed back towards Shannon and the kids. I could hear a random citizen tell Tom, "Way to go, Tom! You tell 'em!" 

Shannon and the kids were near the Ferris Wheel and munching on funnel cake. "Hey, babe. Hang out with the kids for a few minutes, would ya? I gotta go chew on a guy's ear about something important. I'll be back in a bit." 

"Okay," she said, kissing me quick. "Hurry back, though, okay? The kids want to go on a few rides with you." 

"Count on it!" 

I made my way back towards the spot where Tom Wellington and I had just had our exchange and I could see him walking down the street towards the edge of the carnival. I speed walked to catch up to him but not so much as to draw attention. I followed him a short ways and scouted out areas that I could get him out of the public eye, if possible. 

When Tom was running against me for sheriff, I had Tonya do a little off-the-books research on Tom's background and was startled by what I found. I didn't use the information at the time, since I was so sure I was going to win the election that I didn't think it was really necessary. However, since the election, Tom had been trying to make a bit of a name for himself by serving as a one-man watchdog against the sheriff's office. 

He had been questioning every move I had made, every dollar I spent, and it was starting to get annoying. The fact that people had reacted to our brief conversation told me that people might actually listen to Tom and his half-assed ideas about how to run a law enforcement agency if he decided to run against me in the next election. 

Contrary to most people's beliefs, you don't actually have to be a certified law enforcement officer to run for sheriff. All you have to do is win and take a very abbreviated course from the state law enforcement academy within your first six months on the job. 

Tom took a shortcut through an alley near down town, presumably to head back to his car that was probably parked near his down town office. To my amazement, he was actually listening to an MP3 player as he strolled and never heard me approach from behind. There was absolutely no one around to even watch us. 

I grabbed Tom by the shoulders, spun him around and then shoved him forcefully up against the brick wall of one of the building lining the alley. 

Tom quickly yanked out his ear buds. "What are you doing?!" he demanded. 

"The question is, what the hell are you doing?" 

"I'm walking back to my vehicle sheriff. Is that a crime?" 

"I'm not talking about now. I'm talking about your little stump speech back at the carnival." 

"Is it wrong for an ordinary citizen to question the activities of our elected officials? I'm pretty sure that's what the Constitution is all about, sheriff!" 

I leaned in closer. "I'm only going to say this once, Tom. Back...the fuck...off!" 

Tom smirked and chuckled. "Is that some kind of a threat, Pat? Get me in a dark alley and threaten me? If you think that's going to silence me then you've obviously greatly underestimated me." 

"Threaten you? No, Tom. I'm not going to threaten you. I have no time for threats. They're meaningless. I'm here to make you a promise." 

"A threat? A promise? Coming from you, Pat, it's the same thing." 

"Bullshit. A threat would be me telling you I'm going to bitch slap you right across the face and then not following through on it. A promise, on the other hand, is me telling you that I'm going to bitch slap you right across the face and then..." SMACK! came the sound as my right hand made contact with the left side of his face, "actually DOING it. Do you understand the difference now, Tom?" 

Tom reached down and picked up his dark rimmed glasses that my hand had wiped clean off his face while he gently caressed the left side of his face. 

"You...you just...you just assaulted me, Pat!" he seethed. He was also scared shitless. 

"Nah. That was me just doing you a little favor." 

"How is that doing me a favor? I could sue the absolute HELL out of you for this!" 

"Yes, you could. But you won't," I said calmly. 

"What's going to stop me?" he demanded, struggling to keep his growing rage and fear under control. 

"I am," I said, menacingly, as I moved just inches from him. "You see, Tom, I have a serious problem with local businessmen who think they can run a law enforcement agency better than me just because they happen to be a semi-successful entrepreneur." 

"I'm a damned successful businessman," he spat. 

"That's your opinion. But the fact remains that you don't have a damned clue how to run the sheriff's office. The citizens of this county need this new public safety center. The police outgrew their offices years ago. The fire department operates in a building that has been added onto like a jigsaw puzzle from when it was built during the time they still used horses. 

"And I don't need some jackass to come along and try and talk the public out of voting for this plan - a jackass like you!" 

Tom was still trying to regain his composure. "And what makes you think I'll stay quiet about this, Pat?" 

"McKinness Deerfield." 

Tom's eyes narrowed. "McKinness Deerfield? What the hell does that have to do with anything?" 

It was time to drop a bomb of reality on Tom Wellington. "You had a growth fund that you started in your office that was stocked around 90 percent with shares of McKinness Deerfield." 

"So? I'm a financial planner and securities trader, Pat. I have numerous funds that my clients purchase shares of for their retirement plans." 

"Yes, you do," I continued. "But McKinness Deerfield was different. McKinness Deerfield was once one of the fastest growing energy companies in the country, having developed numerous and highly profitable oil fields up in North Dakota and highly profitable gas fields out in Wyoming." 

"What does their success have to do with this, Pat?" 

"It has to do with you, Tom. I know for a fact that you graduated from the University of Oklahoma with Derrick McKinness, the CEO of McKinness Deerfield and the son of the co-founder of the company, Devlin McKinness. You and Derrick also happened to be fraternity brothers in Tau Kappa Epsilon. 

"Furthermore," I continued, "I happen to know that you and Derrick McKinness continued to remain quite close over the years. I also happen to know that you owned almost forty percent of the McKinness Deerfield stock in your growth fund." 

Tom was calming quickly. I could tell that he was amazed by how much I knew about his McKinness Deerfield connections, although he tried to throw me off. "What do you think you know about my investment funds, Pat? I've never seen you in my office. You've never bought one piece of stock from me! How could you possibly know anything about my business?" 

"Because I make it my business to know these things, Tom. And because of the fact that two of my deputies, Lance Bowe and Russ Daniels happened to buy into that stock and lost over $10,000 each. That might not be a lot of money to you, Tom, but it's a helluva lot for a law enforcement officer. 

"Last fall, just before the election, McKinness Deerfield unexpectedly filed for bankruptcy. It all centered on a major embezzlement that was perpetrated by none other than Devlin McKinness, the co-founder himself. He's in his mid-80s and knew damned well he was never going to see the inside of a prison cell at his age and state of health." 

"Big deal, Pat. That made news around the country. You're not telling me anything that everyone doesn't already know." 

"Yes, but what everyone actually DOESN'T know, is that you sold every last piece of stock that you owned in McKinness Deerfield personally and then completely divested everything out of your hedge fund that was heavily invested in McKinness Deerfield and left your local investors holding the bag." 

"Selling stock is not a crime, Pat." 

"But selling stock within 48 hours of a major energy company filing for bankruptcy and facing MAJOR federal fraud and securities violations IS a crime, Tom - especially when you were forewarned about the events ahead of time. They have a name for that, Tom. It's called insider trading. Can you imagine how the Securities and Exchange Commission might feel about this if they knew?" 

All Tom could do was just stare at me in abject horror and shock. He desperately tried to think of something to throw me off his scent. 

"You don't know anything, Pat. I know trading and security laws better than you could ever possibly HOPE to know them. Your little drama show doesn't scare me in the least bit!" 

"You're right. I don't know the laws that well. But I know people who do. And I also happen to know for a fact that you were tipped off by Derrick McKinness personally." 

"How could you possibly know that?" 

"As I said before, Tom, I make it my business to know these things. And I have proof, in the form of email correspondence that you knew in advance." 

The reality of it all was beginning to set in. "The only way you could know that is if you somehow hacked into my email servers." My silent stare gave him the answer he was looking for. He started chuckling. "You're an idiot, Pat! Even if you wanted to, you could never prosecute me for this. Hacking my email would get every last piece of evidence thrown out in a court of law!" 

"You're right, Tom. But it wouldn't be me prosecuting you. Just knowing what I know and giving an anonymous tip to the SEC might just be enough to get an investigation started. Then, with the intimate knowledge I have from your correspondence with Derrick McKinness, my good friend the United States District Attorney Lane Danielsen could really blow the lid off the whole thing and launch an investigation with the full weight and power of the United States Government behind him. 

" At a bare minimum, with what I know, you'd be looking at five to ten years behind bars at Club Fed! Hell, Martha Stewart got convicted for less!!" 

Tom was dead in the water. He knew he didn't have any cards left to play. "Sheriff, please," he pleaded. 

"Oh, now you're going to address me by my lawful title? We were on a first name basis just a minute ago." 

"Sheriff... I'm asking you. No, I'm begging you. Please... don't turn me in. This will ruin me. I'll do anything you ask me to. Okay? If this is about me seeing Clarissa, then..." 

"Oh, please, Tom. This isn't about Clarissa. She and I are divorced. She's free to see whoever she wants to, even a douche like you. What I want, Tom, is for you to keep your goddamned mouth shut. I want you to mind your own fucking business for a change and not try and chat me up in public so you can trash all my efforts for making this community safer. And your days of running for sheriff are over." 

"I understand, Sheriff. In my... exuberance and... enthusiasm for wanting to give back to my community I may have... overstepped my bounds, okay? Maybe we can work together on this. If you show me your plans for the new public safety center, I'd be happy to give you any assistance you might need." 

"Oh, stop groveling, for God's sake. I don't need your help. My plan is just fine the way it is. I just need the public's support in getting it passed this fall. And it won't be as expensive as you think. I have a great feeling that I'm close to landing a grant that will pay for a huge part of it." 

"Oh, that's...that's great! Just great! Really, really tremendous, Sheriff!" Tom was in full suck-up mode now. 

"Just mind your business, Tom. This is the only warning you're gonna get. Piss me off one more time and your ass is headed to Leavenworth." 

I turned and headed back down the alley to return to the carnival. As I rounded the corner I could see Tom Wellington squatting down with his back against the wall and his head in his hands obviously coming to grips with his near-brush with a lengthy prison term. 




Grab Life by the Balls



Truth be told, I have absolutely no idea whether Tom would have gone to jail. If I had to put money on it, I'd probably bet against it, actually. I didn't know Lane Danielsen as well as I led on, either. We had only met briefly last year on a meth case that had gone to federal court for trafficking. The evidence would have made the trial a slam dunk so my interaction with Danielsen was minimal as the defendant pled out. 

No trace of hacking into Tom's network could actually be traced back to me (Tonya had made sure of that) and I had no idea how much weight any hint of mine would carry in launching an SEC investigation. Tom only made about $3 million dollars by selling off his stock in McKinness Deerfield. That's a lot for a town like Red River Falls but the SEC wants the really big fish, like Bernie Madoff, who rip off people for BILLIONS. 

But it was still helpful to keep Tom quiet as he seemed to be the only one serious about challenging me, even though the election was still over three years away. I just didn't need any road blocks for the public safety center referendum. Just as long as Tom thinks I can get him in a heap of trouble, that's just as good as actually doing it. 

***** 

All government offices were closed through Memorial Day so it was nice not to have to show up to work again until Tuesday morning. While most people got to enjoy a nice long weekend for the unofficial start of summer our patrol watches were conducted strictly by the books. 

I was more than a little surprised on two fronts when I got into work. First, I was surprised that our email servers were actually working and I could get caught up on official correspondence, which also meant that my morning was pretty much shot. Secondly, I was actually surprised to see a short email from Clarissa. 

Patrick, 

I apologize for not telling you about Tom and me. I'm not really sure what to call it at this point but dating or a relationship doesn't quite fit yet. Not really sure I even see it getting to that point, to be honest. But I regret not giving you a heads up. It was a surprise to see you but a pleasant one. I'm surprised to say this but I enjoyed meeting your fiancée. Shannon is lovely and I hope she makes you happy. - C 

The email definitely explained why Clarissa seemed uneasy about being in my presence with Tom at the carnival, especially Tom's attempted displays of affection. And I can only guess that Clarissa emailed me to spare me any discomfort at texting me under the possibility of receiving it in Shannon's presence. Perhaps Clarissa really was regressing from the twat she had become at the end of our marriage and morphing back into something resembling a human being. No sense letting my guard down, though.  

Clarissa: 

Thank you for the note but it isn't necessary. You have no obligation to explain your personal life to me although I appreciate the sentiment. It was nice seeing you, Caroline and Martin as well. 

Patrick 

I wasn't expecting any kind of a response from her immediately, because of the fact that she had emailed me instead of texting. But almost immediately after I sent the email I heard a beep indicating that I had a new message in my inbox. It was from Clarissa and simply read: 

: ) 

My god. What would we do without smart phones? 

My day was actually going pretty well and I had completed my projected upcoming fiscal year's budget all the way through mid-fourth quarter when Karen Landingham poked her head in my office and told me I had a visitor. 

"It's Mitch Monahan." 

I took a deep breath and said, "Please, send him in." 

Mitch entered my office and closed the door behind him and took a seat in one of the two chairs directly in front of my desk. I swiveled around from my computer and faced him from a position of power behind my large flat fake mahogany desk from Staples. 

"Mitch. Good to see you," I said trying to be congenial. "What brings you by?" 

He let out a long, slow breath and stared at the floor as he spoke. "Well, Pat," he started, clearing his throat, "I had a long weekend to think about everything that happened with Dean last week. And I wanted to come by and say that I think you were right and I wish that we had handled things a little differently." 

I nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, Mitch. I appreciate that." 

"You're absolutely right, Pat, that our employees are our most important resource in any organization. And I violated that. I obviously let you down but, most important, I let Dean down." 

"I guess, Mitch that it seemed obvious to everyone that something is very wrong with Dean and I thought maybe we needed to see if there was something we could do to help him. His entire job is based on providing professional assistance to every elected official and department head in the county. We need to be there for him when he needs us, too." 

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Pat. I saw Dean over the weekend, during the festival." 

"So did I." 

"He really looked like hell, Pat." 

"I know. Did he say anything to you?" 

"No. He wouldn't. I said hello and he just looked right at me and then went after his kids." 

"Did he seem angry?" 

"No, not really. He had more of a hurt expression than anything. For a moment, I thought maybe he was going to burst into tears if there hadn't been so many people around." 

"Yeah, he kinda looked that way when I saw him, too." 

"Did he talk to you, Pat?" 

"No. He was focused on his kids, like you said. He just nodded hello to me when I waved at him." 

Mitch leaned in closer. "Pat, the supervisors and all the other elected officials are really leaning on me. They want to see changes made. Dean called in sick today and both the County Treasurer and County Recorder are pissed. Dean was supposed to have upgraded their computer operating systems with the latest version of Windows in order to be compatible with new tax software from the state. They were supposed to be online with that no later than today and that was only because we were given an extension." 

I closed my eyes and let out a breath of frustration. 

"Pat," he continued, "I need you to talk to Dean. He's down to his last chance here. If that upgrade for the Treasurer and Recorder isn't completed by close of business Friday, I'm going to have to fire Dean." 

"Now look! Dean is-" 

"I don't have any choice, dammit!" Mitch interrupted. "You're his friend, Pat! And I consider you to be a friend, too! Even after what happened last week after the meeting! But dammit, Pat! I need your help! I don't wanna see Dean get fired but I have a responsibility to everyone here." 

I took a few moments to collect myself and my thoughts. "I know, Mitch, I know. And, for what it's worth, I apologize for what I said last week. You know I would never do anything like that." 

"I know, Pat. We're all pretty wound up. It makes you wonder how we ever conducted business thirty or forty years ago before technology became so necessary." 

"Yeah, no kidding. My deputies can't even write anybody up for a seatbelt violation anymore without damned near having to do a complete background check. I'll talk to Dean, kidnap him from his own office if I have to. But I will get to the bottom of this, Mitch. I promise." 

"Thanks, Pat," Mitch said as he stood, extending his hand. I shook it firmly and warmly. 

"Again, Mitch, I'm sorry I lost my temper last week." 

"You were looking out for a friend, Pat. I can only hope someone would do the same for me." 

"I would in a heartbeat, Mitch." 

***** 

Dean called in sick the following day, Wednesday, also. He was in and out of the office on Thursday the entire day and I had a hard time being able to get a hold of him. We ended up having a convenience store robbery in the town of Royal Fork that afternoon and I had every deputy in the county committed to the chase. Even Ben Villanueva and I got in on the act. 

The chase ended with a nasty car wreck when the perpetrator flipped his aging Suburban ten times at nearly 98 miles per hour, ejecting the driver and throwing him nearly 80 feet. Needless to say, he was killed instantly. But none of my deputies were injured and no other civilians were, either. To top it off, all of the stolen money was returned to the convenience store. All in all, chalk up a "W" for the good guys. 

Lucky for us, we have a contract with the town of Royal Fork to provide law enforcement protection there. A deputy is required to spend a minimum of two hours of an eight hour shift actually patrolling the small town of about 2,500 people. Additionally, the deputy is also required to actually drive through the town at least once an hour. Most of it was window dressing but it gave the people there some peace of mind that there was actually a police presence in their town. 

Truth be told, the deputies assigned to that patrol beat probably spend anywhere from three to four hours in that town on any given day, mostly due to speeding violations that occurred from travelers who are a little too quick to get through town. As such, the small town was actually a fairly good source of revenue for the county. 

Friday morning, I found Dean Strobe in his office on the lower level of the courthouse around ten o'clock. The poor schlub was almost two hours late for work, which was another strike against him. Somehow, having an office in the basement of the building seemed kind of fitting for Dean, given his recent behavior. 

"Hey, Dean," I said, knocking on his door and letting myself in. "Got a minute?" 

"Uh, I'm really busy, Pat. Got a lot of catching up to do. Did you need something right away?" 

"No, not really," I said as I took a seat. Dean's office was a stockpile of computer wiring, cables, spare parts, software containers, instructional CDs and DVDs and manuals for every piece of software or hardware owned by the county. I called it "Nerd Paradise". Probably not the nicest term in the world but it got a chuckle out of Dean the first time I said it years ago. 

"Actually," I continued, "I was wondering if you and I could get together for a bit this afternoon towards the end of the work day." 

"Uh, I don't think so, Pat." 

"Why not?" 

"Uh...Mercedes needs me to get home as soon as I can." 

"You two got a hot date tonight or something?" I laughed. Dean looked at me as though I just pulled a gun and shot his puppy in the head. My smile disappeared instantly. "Seriously, Dean, there's a few things I could really use your help with. It won't take long, I promise." 

"I can't, Pat. I really can't." 

"Dean, I really need some of your time today. I'm sure Mercedes will understand if you're not home right at 5 o'clock." 

Dean sighed in resignation. "Okay, Pat. I'll spare you a few minutes, but I can't stay too long." 

"Great! I'll be here right at 4:45, then." 

Dean stole a quick glance at the clock. "Okay, Pat. See you then." 

I lied. I had every intention of showing up early. So I went back to my office and puttered around for a while, changed out of my uniform and into casual clothes, and then made my way back to the lower level of the courthouse to Dean's office and knocked on his door right at 4:15. Dean had his sport coat wrapped over one arm with keys in hand and was just grabbing his laptop case with the other when I knocked on the door. 

"Whoa, Dean! Looks like you're going somewhere," I said, somewhat irritated. 

"Uh, look Sheriff, something...came up and I really need to get home." 

"What, no phone call at least?" 

"Uh, I'm sorry, Sheriff. Maybe we can do it on Monday, okay?" 

"Not possible," I said, crossly, entering his office. I stepped in, pulled the door shut, and sat down on a chair. "You do whatever you have to do, Dean. Call Mercedes, or do what you have to do. But you are going to give me some of your time. Now!" 

Dean was scared shitless. "Look, Sheriff, I..." 

"What's with this "sheriff" shit? Jesus, Dean! We've known each other for years. We've had dinner at each other's houses. Our kids have played together. What the hell, man?!!" 

"Sheriff...uh... I mean, Pat...it's just that...well...it's complicated." 

"Talk to me." 

"I can't." 

"You need to, Dean." 

"Sheriff, please. It's personal." 

"Yeah, well it's affecting your work, Dean. And when your work starts to affect MY work and the work of every county employee and elected official, it isn't personal anymore." 

Dean had absolutely no answer. 

"Put your stuff down, Dean. Grab your coat and follow me. We're going for a ride." 

"Pat, really. I can't-" 

"I'm not asking you, Dean. I'm telling you. We're going for a ride." 

Dean stood there for a few moments, finally set his laptop on his desk and followed me silently out of the office. He locked his office with shaking hands, pocketed the keys and then followed me outside to my personal vehicle, my trusty royal blue F-150 Lariat Crew Cab. Dean got into the front passenger's seat and buckled himself in. 

Dean and I rode in almost complete silence until his phone started buzzing. I gave him an evil look as he answered it. 

"Hello?" he answered meekly. "Yeah, honey...no, not yet...the sheriff came to see me at the last minute...he needs me to help him out with a small crisis...I'm not sure, honey...please don't yell, sweetheart...I swear I'll be home as soon as I can...please don't..." That was the last he could get out as the caller, who was obviously Mercedes, hung up on him. "I'm dead. I am so dead," Dean whispered to himself. 

I don't really have a favorite watering hole. Truth is, I don't drink that much. But I do enjoy a pint of Killian's every now and then, especially when I'm watching a game. The Minnesota Twins were playing an early double header tonight up in Toronto and I wanted to catch the opening pitch. Never one to drink alone, I figured I might as well drag Dean along with me and see if I could get him to open up to me. 

So we pulled into The End Zone, which is a local popular sports bar and grill in Red River Falls. I got out first and waited as Dean reluctantly exited from my truck. We went inside and seated ourselves at the end of the bar and facing one of the nearly 40 flat screen TVs in the place. I ordered my usual Killian's Irish Red and told Hal, the bartender, to get Dean whatever he wanted. 

"I'll just have a club soda and orange juice," Dean said meekly. Hal rolled his eyes and went to retrieve our drinks. 

"This is a great place to watch a game, Dean. Best in town. I love coming here to hang out and watch the Twins, Vikings and Wild play. Next best thing to actually being at the game!" 

Dean just sat there avoiding eye contact with me. 

"Do you follow any teams or sports?" I asked. Dean just shook his head no. Hal returned soon with our beverages. Dean sipped at his virgin screwdriver while I took a good pull of my delicious nectar. 

"Did you know they have over 140 different types of beer here, Dean?" Again, he shook his head no. "True story. In fact, you get a t-shirt once you've tried every single one of them. I have about 120 beers to go before I get a shirt, though," I chuckled. 

I did my best to continue making idle chit chat and tried to get Dean comfortable. I tried to make small talk. I told boring stories. I told some really bad jokes. Nothing was working so I finally decided that I would have to just take the direct approach. 

"Dean, I need you to tell me what's going on." 

"Nothing, Pat. I just haven't been feeling well lately, that's all." 

"Bullshit. You've been gone from work eighteen days in the last two months. That's a little more than not just feeling well. Even when you are at work you are pretty much despondent, disengaged and act like a zombie. Your work has suffered tremendously. Your co-workers are getting down to their last nerve trying to work with you. Your work directly affects everyone else in the county." 

Dean just sat there, listening to my words, but not responding. 

"I need you to say something, Dean. I need you to tell me how you're going to snap out of it. I need to hear you tell me you have a plan for making things right." 

Dean looked away and so did I. We had been at the End Zone for over an hour and I was no closer to finding out what was going on with Dean than I had been when we started. 

"Dean, please. I'm begging you. Whatever is going on with you we can work it out. Don't you understand? I wanna help you, Dean. I'm your friend. I'm someone you can trust. Whatever the problem is, we'll solve it. Together." 

Dean took a half-hearted sip of his beverage. He still said nothing. His body sat on that bar stool but his mind and soul were light years away. I couldn't tell if anything was registering or not. I tried hard to keep my emotions in check but a surge of anger and frustration was starting to well up inside and I didn't know if I'd be able to hold it back before they consumed me and I gave up on Dean in utter frustration. 

"Jesus, Dean," I implored. "I can't help you if you don't let me. And I can't help if I don't know what is going on. I'm begging you Dean. Please, for the love of Christ, talk to me!" 

Nothing. An invisible wall was building up and I had little time to crack it before it became impenetrable. I had to find something to shatter it with. And that thing was the truth. 

"Dean," I said, leaning closer, "please tell me what's going on. What's happening with you?" 

"Nothing, Pat," he finally answered. "I'll be fine. You'll see come Monday." 

"Dean, there isn't going to be a Monday unless you level with me right now. They're going to fire you, Dean. For all intents and purposes, you've already been fired. I had to beg Mitch Monahan for twenty minutes this morning to let me give it one more shot. I'm begging and pleading with you Dean. Please let me help you, okay?" 

A single tear rolled down Dean's cheek and he looked away in shame. He sat there just trying to compose himself and wouldn't look at me and wouldn't say a word. Finally, after about ten minutes or so, I gave up. I had to resign myself to the fact that I couldn't help Dean if he wouldn't let me. 

I left a twenty dollar bill on the bar and stood up. "Sorry, Dean. If you won't let me help you, then it's out of my hands." I turned and started walking out to my truck. 

"Alright!" Dean shouted, sniffing and trying to compose himself. "Alright, Pat! You win. Just please don't let them fire me. I can't get fired, Pat. Please! I'll tell you anything you wanna know." 

I turned and stared at Dean for a few moments. Convinced he was serious, I walked back to my seat. "Alright, Dean. I'm listening." 

Dean sat up straight and summoned some inner strength, drying his eyes. "Okay, Pat. If I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna need something stronger than club soda and OJ." 

I nodded to the bartender. "Hal?" 

"What can I get you guys?" Hal offered. 

"Another Killian for me and whatever Dean wants." 

"I'll have a rum and coke," Dean orders. "Heavy on the rum and light on the coke." Hal nodded with a smile and went to fetch our quaff. 

"Okay, Dean. I'm listening." Dean took a series of deep rapid breaths and was nearly on the verge of hyperventilating. "Easy, Dean, take it easy. Just take your time and tell me what's on your mind. I'm here to help you, not judge you, okay?" 

Dean nodded and seemed to calm some. Our drinks arrived and Dean took a long steady pull from the rum and coke and winced as the liquor burned its way down to his stomach. He sat there for a few moments, letting the alcohol get into his system and fuel his courage. Then he turned to me and opened the dam. 

"I'm not a man, Pat." 

"What do you mean by that, Dean?"