Free Blind Spot by Nancy Bush Page A

stepping inside the department’s front doors, he glanced through bulletproof glass at the receptionist whose name tag read Dot Edwards. She smiled at him and said, “That’s one wet coat ya got there.”
    Lang glanced at his jacket. It was soaked. “It was dry when I was at the ME’s.”
    “You came from there?”
    He nodded. “Sheriff still not in? I’m Langdon Stone. Ex-homicide with Portland P.D.”
    “Ex,” she said.
    “Long, ugly story.”
    Dot hesitated, then gave Lang a slow, negative wag of her bleached blond head.
    “Thought I’d check,” Lang said, turning to leave.
    “Wait a sec. Detective Tanninger might be able to help you. He’s, like…the man everyone wants to see?” She reached for the phone.
    “Is he in?” Lang asked, pausing.
    She smiled and said into the receiver, “Could you check with Detective Tanninger? There’s someone here to see him. Ex-detective…?”
    “Langdon Stone, formerly homicide Portland P.D.”
    She repeated the information, then hung up a moment later. “Go on through,” she said, touching a buzzer.
    Lang pushed through the door, feeling a little like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. He didn’t know what he was doing and what he would find, and it was an adventure he maybe should have reconsidered before embarking upon.
    He walked down a short hallway and then was in the squad room. Several sets of eyes turned to him, but most of the desks were empty. “Tanninger?” he asked, and was pointed toward a corner. He turned it just as a tall man in the tan uniform of the sheriff’s department appeared from an office.
    He stopped upon seeing Lang, and the two men sized each other up. Detective Will Tanninger—per his name tag—was one of those strong, silent types who observed more than talked. Lang thought about trying to bamboozle the man for about half a second, figured it wouldn’t work, said instead, “Detective Trey Curtis, my ex-partner at Portland P.D., wanted me to jump-start my stalled investigative engine by interesting me in one of your cases. The rest stop one. So, here I am, insinuating myself into your world. Feel free to kick my ass out of here.”
    Tanninger half-smiled. “The truth. Interesting approach.”
    “I came here to talk to the sheriff, but he’s not here. Dot at the desk suggested I meet with you.”
    “Sheriff Nunce planned to retire but no one wanted him to. He was reelected, but when he’s not around I’m the next man.”
    “Maybe that happens a lot?” Lang suggested.
    “Maybe it does.”
    “So, do you want some help, or am I wasting my time and yours?”
    “I know Trey Curtis. Of him, anyway. And Drano.”
    “You know Drano?”
    “We got a call from him, too. Wanted us to encourage you. Said you were a hell of an investigator. Sang your praises. Twisted our arms as hard as he could.”
    Lang said wryly, “I’m a charity case.”
    “According to them, you’re the man for the job, and if this case just so happens to kick you back into gear, everybody wins.”
    “Well…” He wasn’t sure what to think of that.
    Tanninger said, “If you’re as good as they say you are, jump in. Even if you’re not. We’re short-staffed right now. This damn flu has decimated us and Nunce is out sick.”
    Funny. Lang’s lie to the ME was turning out to be the truth. “How long’s he been out sick?”
    “A while. Maybe a while more.”
    “Vacation. Sick. And still one foot in retirement?”
    Tanninger shrugged and said instead, “One of our best took a bullet last year, and though she’s recovered, she’s about all we’ve got for this case. And she went home early with a cough.”
    “You’re not bullshitting me?”
    “What do you care if I am?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “There’s a lot of crime out there. We don’t have enough investigators on a good day for the type of attack that took place at the rest stop. No manpower. You want in, I’ll meet you all the way.”
    “What’s Drano got on you?” Lang