Chapter 43 Fragile Things

• The sheriff’s mistress showed up at the diner on a Tuesday, her heels clicking like gunshots against the cracked linoleum. She ordered a black coffee and sat in the corner booth, her eyes darting like a spooked animal.
• I didn’t recognize her at first—not until she pulled out a manila envelope and slid it across the table to me.
• “Tell him I’ll do it,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “If he doesn’t back off, I’ll take this to the press.”