Post by Sheriff John Thibodaux on May 6, 2014 23:36:30 GMT
It was hell having to borrow a deputy's cellphone, he really should get his own, but he was happy to be on the road without someone bothering him. That, and he never had a particular need for one of the damned things except for now, and even now? He could use one of the deputy's. He supposed he could have texted her, or waited until morning, but he knew damn well that the Mayor would want to hear about this and as fast as he could tell her. It'd only be a matter of time before the news spread like wildfire. When she picked up? He was hitting straight forward, without an ounce of hesitation in that deep, grim voice of his.
"Tam'ra, this is John... We've got a problem, there's been a hell of a murder outside of Silverhorn Ranch, between it and Crow's Roost."
Post by Mayor Tamera McCoy on May 15, 2014 6:06:37 GMT
The concerto of the crickets outside her house kept her at bay as her body was bounded by the queen Size mattress draped layers of linen that were Native American Southwestern motif. Her body were winding down, but the nagging frequency of that generic MIDI ringtone of her house landline phone spiked her blood. Without sitting up, her forearm extended towards her nightstand as she retrieved her wireless phone from the base and reeled the phone, settling the earpiece after her thumb eased down to talk button to enable the line. The rugged tonality and drawl in his voice led to the dwindling of her nerves, though the rest of the news delivered in the dependent clause of his sentence caused her to state firmly, with her bluesy, alto delivery "Is it what I think it is, Sheriff?" Her fingers were sprawling as her hand clenched the body of the phone with anxious anticipation.
Post by Sheriff John Thibodaux on May 15, 2014 6:40:37 GMT
He nodded, and though he was sure she couldn't see him, he imagined that she might assume that he did. "From what we figured, lacerations, deep ones, in the neck. Damn near cut it to the bone, and whoever did it? Used barbed wire. ... Victim was an Indian, Daniel White-Hourse." He knew he didn't have to go further than that. Daniel'd run against her more than once, not that it mattered; she'd always won. Daniel was a good guy, but he'd never really had a chance against her.
"Used the barbed wire like a damned garrote, Tamera."
Post by Mayor Tamera McCoy on May 15, 2014 7:39:38 GMT
Her voice shook during her strides to step out of bed and ready herself back into her formal attire "Sounds like the work of a failed art major." She could feel her the branches of her veins grow in the midst of the tension. Her frame ejected upright and the trajectory of her voice was carried with more defiance, "I'll be there in 15." Regardless of their partisanship, White-Horse was too dry to sling mud. She stated sternly, "You need anything sheriff?"
Post by Sheriff John Thibodaux on May 15, 2014 7:50:48 GMT
"It's best if you don't, Ma'am." Speaking pointedly, directly, and with a hint of weariness to his voice as he spoke to her. "It hints at a special interest, and at the moment, you're not a law enforcement official. I called as a courtesy being as I'm sure the news'll love to be all over this as soon as they can." His tone was bitter, but not unfriendly. It was more to the point.
Post by Mayor Tamera McCoy on May 15, 2014 8:16:59 GMT
A swallow rolled and recoiled in her throat as she nodded in response. Her voice was more somber once she tossed her shoulders back, "Right. I appreciate the notice Sheriff and will deal with the day ahead accordingly." She began to realize the limits of her personality in her position, just basking in silence until she prompted herself to say, "I will see you when time calls, Sheriff."