I pulled the phone toward me and punched in the number of the sheriff's office in Flat Mesa. The deputy at the desk put me straight through. The phone made a couple of clicks, and then the sheriff's voice sounded in my ear."Jones," he said. Dark, biting, laconic."Hey, Nash. It's Janet."There was a long silence."Fuck," Nash Jones said clearly, and he hung up on me.
-Allyson James
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