Blind Spot
“The southbound lanes were on the west side; the northbound on the east. There was a parking lot on the south end of the building with a few scattered department vehicles. Lang pulled his Dodge truck into a reserved spot, as there were no visitors’ spots available. Probably catch hell for it, or get his truck towed, but he didn’t plan to be here long.
It wasn’t the greatest start for a résumé, but it was raining like a son of a bitch and he didn’t feel like walking.
Bending his head to the onslaught he hurried across the lot, up a couple of concrete steps capped by a sagging metal rail, and whooshed inside the door, making sure it was properly closed against a tearing wind, the kind the coast was known for.
He was in a short hallway that led to a reception area that wasn’t much wider, at the end of which sat a heavyset woman in a tight tan uniform.
“Can I help you?” she demanded.
“My name’s Langdon Stone. I have an appointment with Sheriff O’Halloran.”
“Well, if you did, you don’t anymore.
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