My Cult Leader Boss Thought I Was a Broke Temp Medic Until My Sleeve Slipped in the Infirmary Tent
The heavy metal latch clicked shut on the timber supply barn, sealing me in. The smell of sawdust and stale hay filled the small space, but my thoughts were outside, with Caleb and the other young recruits.
Elias Crain, his face still red from his outburst, marched across the muddy compound yard toward the perimeter fence. The rain had started to fall in a fine, cold mist.
A black Ford F-150 with a county sheriff’s emblem idled by the fence line. Sheriff Donald O’Shea, a man whose uniform always looked a size too tight, leaned against the driver’s side door, his hand cupped over a cigarette.
Elias reached into the inside pocket of his pristine dark coat. His hand emerged, clutching a thick, cream-colored envelope.
He slid it across the top of the chain-link fence. The sheriff’s eyes widened slightly as his fingers closed around the paper.
O’Shea glanced around the deserted perimeter. “What’s the story here, Elias? Jonas said you had an issue with the new temp.”
Elias sneered. “She’s not a temp. She’s federal. A spy.”
“A spy?” O’Shea pulled the envelope open with a deliberate tear. A stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills, clearly visible even from my distant vantage through a narrow crack in the barn wall, peeked out. It looked like a brick.
“Fifteen thousand dollars,” Elias said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that still carried in the damp air. “For services rendered.”
O’Shea peeled off a single bill and tucked it into his shirt pocket with a practiced flick. “That’s a lot of services, Elias. What exactly are we rendering?”
“She stole controlled substances from the local clinic,” Elias stated, his tone firm, as if already practicing the lie. “An emergency warrant. For narcotics theft.”
The sheriff nodded slowly, the rain beading on his hat. “I can draw one up. Keeps her off the compound, at least. How long you want her held?”
“Indefinitely,” Elias said, his eyes narrowed, fixated on the barn. “Until she understands who’s in charge here. And until I’ve found out what she’s really here for.”
O’Shea nodded again, a soft crunch of gravel under his boots as he shifted his weight. “Consider it done. I’ll have a deputy swing by with the paperwork later tonight.”
He crushed his cigarette under his boot and climbed into his truck, the engine roaring to life. The bribe was paid, the deal was struck, and a fraudulent warrant was now set to become my official reality.
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