Sheriff Steve Swanton, Oakton, Nebraska

“Son of a Bitch! Goddamn it!” I yell out, instantly earning a glare from my assistant. Tilda’s been in the church choir for twenty years and doesn’t abide swearing.

I’ve just spent the better part of a week dealing with a missing woman report; Tilda’s ‘Good Reverend’s’ wife, no less. And now I’ve received an order of protection that I’m going to have to serve against him. I fucking knew Old Henry knew more than he was letting on the other day; but he just sat there giving the Reverend the evil eye, not saying a word.

Picking up the phone, I dial the number attached to the document that just came across my email.

“Rowansville Sheriff’s Department, how may I help you?” Comes a bored voice.

“This is Sheriff Swanton in Nebraska, I need to speak to Sheriff Michaels.” I bark out.

“Just a moment.”

“Michaels here.” Comes the voice of a man who sounds as annoyed as I feel.

“This is Sheriff Swanton in Oakton, Nebraska. I just received a…”

“Ah, yes. The protection order for Ms. Jones. I trust you’ll get that served immediately?” He cuts in.

“Well, considering I’ve been trying to track her down for a good week, I wanted to confirm that she’s been sighted and still among the living.”

“Yes, I interviewed her myself a couple days after she got to town. She was still in pretty bad shape from what that bastard did to her, but of sound mind. I even offered to help her secure employment here.”

I sit back in my chair. The Reverend and his mother-in-law have been leading searches around the area, telling one-and-all how suicidal his wife has been since her father and sister died last year. I’ve never heard a whisper of spousal abuse but it wouldn’t be the first time that was kept quiet.

“I will go ahead and serve this Order this afternoon. Any chance you can get her to call me? I’d like to start documenting what I can also.”

“That depends.” Michaels responds, “You go to his Church?”

“My wife does, hell, most the town does; mostly out of loyalty to her father. I’ve never had the patience for that stuff.” I pause, “I do remember Marie from around here, never got into any trouble and placed in State track meets every year she was in high school.”

“She’s decided she wants to be called Emma now.” He grunts. “The people that found her, they don’t take with women being battered. I Do Not take with women being battered. She’s safe now. The lawyer who drew up this Order is filing the divorce papers also, just so you know.”

Nodding into the phone at his comments, I understand that he’s half accusing me for allowing her abuse, but there’s a warning in there also, I just don’t get what he means. “I’m with you Sheriff. I never had any reports. This was never about trying to cover anything up. I’m glad she’s found good people, but maybe she can call her Mother?”

“Her Mother knew what was happening. And apparently the Good Reverend has an ex-wife who was treated the same way. Do some digging, call me back with what you find and we’ll talk some more.” The line disconnects.

What a fucking day this is turning out to be. My next move isn’t to serve the Order, my next move is calling my cousin.

“Patrick, you still the Treasurer over at Reverend Reynold’s Church?” I don’t start with any pleasantries.

“Huh, Steve? Yeah, yeah, I still am. Why do you ask?”

“If you have banking authority, you need to get over there immediately and freeze the funds, no withdrawals permitted. I can’t discuss it further with you right now, but I think all hell might be breaking loose here shortly and you won’t want to be held accountable otherwise. You understand me, Patrick?” I instruct, as I stand and reattach my gun belt.

“Steve, what???” He sounds like he’s having a panic attack, wouldn’t be the first one.

“Don’t talk to anyone, especially not your Reverend; just go and do it now, you have twenty minutes.”

“Okay, okay, I understand. I won’t be getting arrested for anything will I? Please Steve, my children?”

“No, Patrick, just secure the money; make sure no one can touch it for a month or so.” I can picture him, beads of sweat all over his balding head, but I know he’ll do it.

“Okay, I’m leaving now. Please, come see me tonight, okay?” He pleads as I disconnect.

Standing up, I print up the Order and head out of my office. I can’t help but smirk at Tilda as she continues to glare at me for my swearing.

My first stop is the Reverend’s home, then the parsonage where Mrs. Jones still lives, finally approaching the Church I see both of their cars among others. I stride into the building to see a prayer service taking place.

“Reverend Reynolds,” I call out.

“Ah! Sheriff, we were just praying for word about my poor Marie. Have you heard anything?” He looks at me, surrounded by roughly thirty of his older parishioners.  I can only imagine they’re present to enjoy the coffee, cake, and cookies that are on a side table.

“I’m here to serve you with a Protection Order for one Ms. Emma Marie Jones. You are not to contact her, you are to stay a hundred yards away from her, and you are barred from withdrawing any money from your joint accounts until the Judge in the initial divorce proceedings makes a ruling. I need your signature here, please.” I say, without looking at our audience.

The silence drags on, until finally a red-faced Reverend starts towards me. “Are you insane? I told YOU she is unstable! And you come in here and address me this way in front of my parishioners?”

“I’m just reading off this legal document, Reverend. Apparently, Ms. Jones got a Judge to sign off on it, so she must have some pretty compelling evidence of spousal abuse.”

“I refuse to sign anything.” He fumes.

“Well, in light of all the witnesses here today, I’ll just leave this with you,” I say, shoving his copy into his hand. “And I’ll be photographing license plates outside so I can get in touch with all of you if needed.” The last part is said to the Church members in the pews. I spare a glance towards Mrs. Jones, her face has gone stark white and she’s clenching her fists. I nod at the members as their whispers turn into roars.

Now, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I’m not so stupid as to not call my wife the minute I get back in my cruiser. We may be a little older, but I still enjoy our horizontal mambo and don’t want to get cut off if she first hears about this from anyone else.

I think I enjoyed that conversation a little too much. Particularly when it ended with my Janice saying, “Her mother was always a royal bitch.”

“Now remember, Love, you can receive the calls but I can’t have you initiating them?” I remind her.

“What time are you getting home, Steve?” She practically purrs in reply. I am a lucky man. But I have to go pay another visit to Henry before I head home.

Henry Masters, Oakton, Nebraska

Looking out my window, I’m hardly surprised to see the Sheriff pull up again. Looks like Marie…oh, Emma, now. Looks like her paperwork has been filed.

The Sheriff gets out of his cruiser and walks to the porch, I open the door as he’s halfway up.

“Surprised to see me, Henry?”

“Nope.”

“So about that old car of yours, have any further thoughts on how it ended up a ways away from here?” He asks as I indicate he should take a seat.

“I do, now that I think of it.” I pause, grinning at him. “This sweet girl was beat to all hell and needed a ride out of town. I did my Christian duty and gave her my wife’s old car, free and clear.”

“Uh, huh. Well then, not to be a gossip, but I just delivered a Protective Order to the Reverend; mind avoiding him for a while, Henry?” He asks.

“Oh, not a problem, Sheriff,” I laugh to myself. “I’ve been avoiding him for years!”