Chapter 3 - Sheriff Rick Barnes Celebrates His Cowardly Brutality
Deep inside the wood-paneled executive lounge of the Livingston County Sheriff’s Department, Rick Barnes poured himself a heavy glass of bourbon.
He leaned back in his leather swivel chair, chuckling softly as he replayed the terrified expression on the boy’s face before he pulled the trigger.
“Stupid high school punks think they can look a badge-holder in the eye with disrespect,” Barnes muttered aloud to the empty room.
His desk phone rang, breaking the quiet arrogance of the midnight hour with a sharp, piercing jangle.
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“Sheriff, we got a weird report from Mercy General about some janitor making threats in the parking lot,” his deputy reported over the radio.
Barnes spat out a harsh laugh, waving his hand dismissively. “Let the old janitor cry all he wants; nobody touches Rick Barnes in Livingston County.”
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