Where Love Abides. Irene HannonЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter Three

      “Package came for you while you were out, Dale. I put it on your desk.”

      The sheriff looked over at his deputy as he closed the office door against the lingering summer heat of early September. “Thanks, Marv. And thanks for covering for me.”

      “No problem.” The deputy stood and stretched. “You sure you don’t need me to stay a while longer? Alice is finally putting her foot down about that rose arbor I said I’d replace after we moved here last year, and she’ll be waiting for me with saw in hand when I get home. But it’s too hot for a garden project.”

      A grin tugged at the corners of Dale’s lips. “Sorry. Can’t help you out. You should have thought of that before you took early retirement from that cushy corporate security job and decided to move to the country and live a life of leisure.”

      The other man snorted. “Leisure my foot! Alice has a list a mile long. Let me tell you, this deputy gig is a godsend. Gets me out of the house a few times a week at least.”

      Chuckling, Dale regarded the older man. Except for his bristly gray hair, Marv Wallace didn’t look anywhere near his fifty-six years. Fit and tanned, he exuded energy and enthusiasm. And as far as Dale was concerned, Marv was the godsend. The flexibility and availability of the affable, hardworking deputy was a much-appreciated blessing for a single-father sheriff.

      Thank goodness the city council had finally seen the logic in having a part-time deputy on call. Oak Hill might be small, but the town did need backup. Marv had been on staff only a few months, but he’d already proven invaluable on a number of occasions.

      “Anything going on?” Dale moved to the coffeemaker in one corner and lifted the pot to pour himself a cup of the strong brew.

      “Just one call. From a Christine Turner.”

      Dale swung toward the deputy, pot in hand. “What’s the problem?”

      “She was out working in her garden early this morning, and a car came by at a high rate of speed, swerved off the road as it came around the bend in front of her place and cut a swath through her pumpkin patch. I took a spin out there, and it’s torn up pretty good. She got a license number, though.”

      If she’d been close enough to see the license, she’d been close enough to get hit, Dale realized. His mouth settled into a grim line and he set down the coffeepot. “Did you run it?”

      “Yep. Registered to Les Mueller.”

      “Sounds like Stephen is at it again.” Les owned one of the state’s biggest dairies and was the largest employer for miles around. But he’d been having problems with his seventeen-year-old son.

      “That’s what I figured. She said there were three teenage males in the car.”

      Fisting his hands on his hips, Dale shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on with that kid. This is the third time in the past six months he’s been involved in some sort of minor incident with the law. Except this time, it could have been a lot worse. Chri… Ms. Turner could have been hit.”

      “I pointed that out to her.”

      “Where’s the complaint?”

      “She didn’t file one.”

      Dale frowned. “She called to report the incident, we made a positive I.D., and she doesn’t want to press charges?”

      “Nope.” Marv sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “You ever meet her?”

      “Yeah. A couple of weeks ago. Her truck skidded off the road the night we had all that rain. I found her unconscious behind the wheel as I was driving by. Brought her in to see Sam. Why?”

      The deputy arched his eyebrows. “You never mentioned that.”

      “Nothing much to mention.” Dale reached again for the coffeepot, using that as an excuse to look away. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Marv about the incident. But something about it had left him unsettled, and he hadn’t been inclined to dwell on the encounter.

      “Hmph.” From Marv’s speculative tone, it was clear that Dale’s response didn’t satisfy him. But the deputy let it pass. “Anyway, did you pick up any odd vibes from her?”

      Dale shot him a probing look as he finished pouring his coffee. “What do you mean, odd?”

      “I can’t quite put my finger on it. She just seemed nervous around me, and she kept her distance. I never invaded her personal space, but whenever I got within a few feet of her, she backed up. I wondered if it was me, or if she’s like that with everybody.”

      Interesting, Dale reflected. “She was that way with me, too. But she seemed fine around Sam and Marge.”

      “Must be the uniform. You run any stats on her?”

      “No reason to. The plates came back clean, and she didn’t break any laws.”

      “Curious thing, though.”

      “At the moment, I’m more curious about why she didn’t want to press charges.”

      “Can’t give you an answer to that, either. I ran the license while I was there, and told her who the car belonged to. She asked me a few questions about Les, and after I explained who he was, she got this real cold look and said to forget it. I told her Les would make things right, but she didn’t want to pursue it.”

      “Stephen needs to be called to task for this. Reckless driving is a serious matter. And if he’d hit Ms. Turner, he could be facing involuntary manslaughter charges.”

      “The lady didn’t seem convinced that anything good would come of pursuing this.”

      “Okay. Let me think about this one.” Frustrated, Dale raked his fingers through his hair. “In the meantime, Alice is waiting for you.”

      The man rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll stop by Gus’s first and grab some lunch.”

      “Boy, you must be desperate!” Grinning, Dale took a sip of his coffee. “With your fitness regime I can’t believe you’re willing to ingest all that fat to delay the inevitable.” Gus’s fried food was legendary. Dale figured the diner owner operated on a simple philosophy: if it could be breaded, it could be fried.

      “I’ll do almost anything to avoid a date with that saw. See you around.”

      As the man disappeared through the front door, Dale strolled toward his office. After twelve years in a cramped, cookie-cutter cube in L.A., illuminated only by harsh fluorescent light, he never failed to appreciate his sunny Oak Hill office, with all its homey touches—including multiple pictures of Jenna displayed on the oak bookshelves that occupied most of one wall.

      He took a few seconds to enjoy them, as he always did after settling in behind his desk, starting with a photo of her the day she was born, her pink face scrunched into a howl. From there he moved on to each year’s birthday picture, a smile tugging at his lips as he perused them, enjoying her progress from infant to toddler to a little girl with long blond hair and merry blue eyes. What a blessing she’d been in his life.

      And her birth had provided an unexpected blessing in his often-difficult marriage as well, he recalled. As he and Linda had lavished their love on their daughter, they’d grown closer. Linda had come to appreciate—and believe in—the depth of Dale’s caring, and he had been touched by the fierce protectiveness she’d displayed toward Jenna.

      The tiny baby had breached the walls around her heart far more effectively than he ever had, Dale reflected, giving him a glimpse of the woman his wife could have been under different circumstances. In fact, the last few months of his wife’s life had been the happiest time in their marriage.