"Come in," she said, her voice scratchy.
"You okay?"
"Fell asleep. I'm going home."
"Sorry, boss. We got a call from the Donovan farm. Tate's dead."
Blue stared at Kutter's face, flat, broad nose, small eyes. The face of a former boxer. He was short, but well-muscled. A good addition to the team, even if only part time. He owned and operated Kutter's Gym. Boxing was his first love and helping people stay healthy was his second.
"Boss? Did you hear me?"
"Tate's dead," she repeated flatly. "Who called it in?"
"Betty Mae. She found him in the barn. Shot."
"He killed himself?"
"I don't know. Betty Mae's a mess and she wasn't making much sense. Laura's on the way there now."
"Okay. I'm going."
"Should I call Riley and Colt?" he asked.
"No. If I need them, I'll do it." She nodded at him. "Go ahead and call Dr. Murphy. Send her to the Donovan farm. Let her know we're not sure what happened yet."
"Consider it done."
* * *
