by Destiny Ford
“I’m not sure,” Spence said, “but get over there as fast as you can and find out.”
I was already on my way.
My good friend and EMT, Annie Sparks, was treating Betty and getting her ready to go to the hospital when I arrived. I’d met Annie because she was frequently the emergency responder who managed my mom’s adventures. She was Mormon, and one of the few non-judgmental and open-minded people in town. I enjoyed spending time with her and her husband, Rich.
“Hey, Annie,” I said.
She smiled at me. “Hi, Kate. We need to get together again soon.”
I nodded. “Lunch?”
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll text you.”
“How’s Mrs. Turner doing?” I asked. “Is she able to answer some questions?”
Annie nodded. “She’s in a little pain, but we’ve given her some medication. It looks like she has some bruises, and possibly a concussion. We’re taking her in for an evaluation to be safe. She probably would have been hurt a lot worse if she hadn’t fought back.”
The idea of being a grandma who could fight off intruders made me want to cheer. Someone needed to get her a superhero t-shirt.
Mrs. Turner was propped up on the stretcher in her living room so I stood next to her while I talked. “Hi, Mrs. Turner. How are you feeling?”
She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m mad as a wet hen to tell you the truth, Kate. Those wicked men invaded my home and tried to steal from me and hurt me in the process! What’s the world coming to?”
I nodded in empathy. “Being taken from in any way is a violation. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Her eyes softened with my words. “Me too. I can’t imagine what they would have wanted.”
“It seems weird they broke in and attacked you in broad daylight.” Then again, the robbery at the Popes’ house had happened during the day as well. “Did you recognize them at all?”
Betty shook her head. “No. They said they were here to treat the house for bugs. I have a company that takes care of spraying several times a year, so I thought they were doing the regular service. But once they were in my house, they started going through my things. I told them to stop. They didn’t listen and started calling me the most uncouth names! Like they were raised by beasts! They grabbed my purse and started going through it, so I marched right into my bedroom and got Bambi. That stopped them mighty quick!”
“Bambi?” I asked, confused.
“My gun,” she said, like I should have known her gun had a name, and that it was basically a Disney character. “Once I got the gun out, they pushed past me and knocked me over on their way out the door. I bruise like a fruit, and at this age, falling takes more of a toll on me than it used to. Then I called the police.”
It took me a minute to recover because I was riveted by the story of a seventy-something-year-old woman owning a gun, brandishing it, and scaring off the criminals who were in her house. I finally came back to my senses and asked, “Did your neighbors see anything?”
Her lips turned down in a frown. “Not that I know of.”
“Okay, well if you think of anything else, you have my number,” I said. “Do you have someone staying with you when you get home later?”
“My daughter and grandkids will come from out of town to stay with me.” I noticed a black sign with white writing in a pretty script that said, Love, Loyalty, Family that had fallen on the ground during the fight. I was glad she had family close who could help her. Being home alone after a robbery would be scary.
Annie and some of the other EMTs moved Mrs. Turner out the front door and to the ambulance.
Bobby was standing on the front lawn so I walked over to talk to him. “Were you the first on scene?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I was the second.”
“Mrs. Turner said she had a gun. Is she licensed?”
He nodded. “She’s had a concealed carry permit for years. Lots of people in Branson do.”
Betty wore glasses with frames thicker than rocks, so I was surprised she could see well enough to use her gun. Then again, she hadn’t needed to use it this time, only threaten with it. And the robbers were probably more afraid of her possible bad aim than her good aim.
I wrote the info about her concealed carry permit down in my notes. “She said she thought they were her pest control company. Did the neighbors see anything?”
He looped his thumbs into his front pockets. “We’re still talking to some of them, but no luck so far,” he said.
“Do you think this is linked to the other robberies in town?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Not sure. But seems kinda coincidental for it not to be.”
“Is there anything connecting what happened to Mrs. Turner to what happened with the Popes?”
“Not that we can tell, but we’re still looking.”
I jotted down some notes before asking, “Did Mrs. Turner have time to see what they stole?”
“She told us they just took some money from her wallet.”
It was weird they were going through her other belongings but only took cash. Maybe they were searching through her things to find her purse though.
“So they only took money from Mrs. Turner, but during the Popes’ robbery, the money that was sitting out in the open was left on the table undisturbed.”
“I know,” Bobby said, pressing his lips together like he was thinking. “It’s strange.”
That seemed odd to me too. Why would the robbers leave money in one home, but take nothing but money in another?
Another officer called for Officer Bob and he raised a hand indicating he’d be right there.
“Will you let me know if you find out anything else?” I asked.
“Will do,” Bobby said, walking away.
I was on my way to my Jeep as my phone rang with “Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show.” I took a deep breath and silenced it. Less than a minute later, a text message flashed.
Running away isn’t going to work. Neither will avoiding me. Or hiding in trees.
For about five seconds, I thought about texting him back something snarky, then decided that after our rendezvous in the park, a text would lead to more conversation and it was probably best not to engage right now.
Chapter Five
“Hey ya, Kitty Katie!” Ella said. She was sitting at one of the extra Tribune desks, looking at something on the computer.
I raised a brow at her for the nickname. Drake called me Katie, a name I’d hated until he’d recently explained his reasoning in a way that had made me melt like hot butter under a Tahitian sun and still did. And Hawke called me Kitty Kate. “Have you decided to combine Drake and Hawke’s nicknames for me now?”
“I couldn’t decide which team to choose, so I thought I’d be on both.”
I nodded. It seemed like as good a solution as any.
“Heard you were with Drake this mornin’,” she said.
I rolled my eyes and sank into the chair at my desk. It seemed the gossip and scandal bit had happened even though I’d tried to avoid it. “I wasn’t with Drake. I was covering Ned and his compatriots at City Hall who were protesting the repeal of the law that made it illegal in Utah to have sex outside of marriage.”
Ella barked out a laugh. “It don’t matter that it’s against the church rules. Ned and a bunch of his buddies would’ve all been in jail years ago if they’d started arrestin’ people for breakin’ that stupid law. What dummies.”
“I agree.”
Ella made a squeaking noise and hit a button on the computer.
“What are you doing?” I asked. It sounded like she was playing some sort of game. Ella was willing to try just about anything, so I wouldn’t put it past her to be a Fortnite aficionado.
“I’m fightin’ for this bid!” She punched a few more buttons with gusto.
I pushed my brows together and walked over to her computer. “Bid?”
“Yep! I want this vase. Looks real old and like it�
��s worth somethin’.”
I gave her a sideways glance. “I didn’t realize you were in the market for old things that look like they’re worth something.”
She clicked on another button, upping her bid so she was the highest. “I wasn’t, but then I found out about this Not Just Junk site and now I’m obsessed! It’s like those people who go to garage sales and wind up with an antique worth a million bucks!”
I gave her a confused look. “But you’re not hurting for money.” Ella’s husband had been a doctor so her family had been well-off, and when her husband died, she’d been the beneficiary of a sizable life insurance policy in addition to their joint assets. She drove around in a convertible sports car that she traded in yearly, gave money to several non-profits, and she only volunteered as the Tribune’s archivist because she wanted to be around people and have something to do.
“I don’t do it for the money. I do it for the battle!” she said, and the bit of crazy that showed in her eyes made me slightly nervous. “I want to win the bids! And if I find somethin’ worth a lot, that would be even more fun!”
“How often do you have to check your bids?” I asked, looking at the website’s user interface. It looked a lot like every other bidding type website out there. A headline of the item, description, place for photos, and bid information on the side.
“I get notified every time some nincompoop tries to outbid me. And I can list categories that interest me and get notified every time somethin’ new is uploaded to that category.”
“That seems like a lot of time and effort.”
She shrugged. “I’ve got the time. I’m gonna be a Not Just Junk legend!”
I laughed. Everyone needed goals and motivations. Becoming a bidding legend on stuff that may or may not be junk, was currently Ella’s. I had no doubt she’d find a new motivation soon.
Spence walked in with lunch for Ella and I. He handed Ella her burger, and me a sandwich, fries, and Oreo milkshake. I love Oreo milkshakes with obscene amounts of extra Oreos, but a recent experience had changed how I viewed them entirely. I still enjoyed them, but now I couldn’t eat one without thinking of Hawke.
“Thanks,” I said to Spence.
He nodded and took a bite of his food. “I stopped to grab lunch and everyone was talking about the robbery at Betty Turner’s.”
“I heard all about it,” Ella said around a bite of her burger.
“Did The Ladies activate the phone tree?” I asked.
Ella nodded and swallowed. “And a post on the Facebook group so we could discuss it.”
The Facebook group was a recent addition to The Ladies gossip arsenal. And Ella was nice enough to inform me that it had mostly been started on my behalf so The Ladies could all keep track of me and my love life. They weren’t pleased that Drake seemed to be interested in me, and firmly, and erroneously, believed I was having sex with both Drake and Hawke. It was a good thing that fornicating law was repealed so I couldn’t get arrested for it anymore. I had no doubt The Ladies would have turned me in had they known the law existed in the first place.
“Do The Ladies have any theories?”
“Undoubtedly, they’re blaming you,” Spence offered.
I rolled my eyes. “They could probably find a way to spin it.”
“Nah,” Ella said. “They’re mostly wonderin’ what’s goin’ on with Drake, Hawke, and your lady parts.”
“Nothing. And my lady parts are none of their business,” I said around a bite of my food. “Who do The Ladies suspect is robbing people?”
“They mostly think it has to do with the tattoo shop. The robberies didn’t start until it opened, so they think the shop brought wicked people into town and it’s God punishin’ us for allowin’ miscreants through our borders.”
I almost choked on a fry. “I wasn’t aware the Branson Falls borders were closed.”
“The Ladies think they should be.”
I wouldn’t be surprised to see them suggest their own version of the Wall of Jericho next.
Spence’s phone buzzed. “An emergency town meeting has been called for tonight to address the robberies. People were worried when it happened to the Pope family, but everyone thought it was an isolated incident. Now that someone has actually been injured, it’s a problem.”
I agreed that two robberies in as many days was probably more than a coincidence, but I wasn’t sure how they tied together yet. I couldn’t see any similarities in the cases. But a town meeting wasn’t a bad idea. Getting people together to form neighborhood watches and be more vigilant couldn’t hurt.
“What time is the meeting?” I asked.
“Seven,” Spence said.
“I should be able to cover it. Let me text and see if my mom can keep Gandalf a little longer.”
I texted my mom.
I have to cover a story later tonight. I’ll probably be done around nine. Can I swing by and pick up Gandalf after the meeting?”
“He’s the cutest little guy,” Ella said. “Your mom should have an Instagram account with him and his outfits!”
I was surprised she hadn’t started one yet. “If she knew how to open an Instagram account, it would have probably happened by now.”
My mom texted back
Of course! And that means I get extra time with my grandpup! Her text had about twenty emojis attached, including several little poops.
She followed that up with another text.
I love these fun little texting pictures!
I texted back.
I know. You keep sending me the little poop.
It took less than thirty seconds for her to reply.
What are you talking about? What little poop?
I texted her the little poop back.
Her reply came swiftly, and included about twenty of the wide-eyed embarrassed emojis.
That’s a little poop????!!!!! I thought it was happy chocolate ice cream!!!! I’ve been sending it to people with hearts!!!!
I started laughing and couldn’t stop so I sent her several laugh-cry emojis.
She texted again.
I’m very upset about this!
About the fact that you’re sending people love poops? I think you should be happy. You’ll start a trend.
NO! I was tricked! Why would poop have a smile on it?
Why would ice cream have a smile?
Because ice cream is delightful! Ice cream smiling makes sense!
Her reasoning made me laugh even harder.
I’m just going to have to make my own emojis!
At that point, I had tears running down my face from laughing so much, which meant everyone in the office was interested in what was giving me a giggle attack. I showed the text thread to Spence and Ella, then they were laughing too. Ella asked for a print out of it so she could put it above her desk. Then we all got back to work.
Spence posted some updates to the Branson Tribune social media accounts about Betty Turner’s attack, and the emergency town meeting. People immediately started commenting that they’d be there because the town was going to the demons, and many blamed the coffee shop, Beans and Things, and Inked AF.
Sasha sent me the information for a few of her tattoo clients who had used their tattoos to cover up scars, and as a way to memorialize loved ones. I called and asked them some questions so I could provide a more balanced piece on tattoos and why people get them. Now that I knew The Ladies were blaming Inked AF for the robberies, it was even more important to me to make sure readers got to see the good that tattoos could do for people instead of automatically assuming anyone who gets tattoos is a bad person because that’s what they’re told to believe.
I worked on the Inked AF story, the casserole caper who was dropping off anonymous casseroles that lacked the proper amount of butter and cheese, and started the story about the robberies at the Popes and now Betty Turner’s house. The Tribune is a small town weekly paper, which meant I’d be able to combine both robberies into one story—and frankly, I was fairl
y certain the two were somehow connected, I just needed to figure out how.
I’d been working all afternoon and knew I’d have a late night with the town meeting, so I decided to take a walk and try to clear my head. It was fall and there was a bite to the air, but the sun was still out and the brisk breeze felt cleansing as I buttoned my coat and made my way to the park a few blocks away. I used to love coming here as a kid, and still sometimes stopped by to swing on the swings, or attempt the monkey bars.
I settled into my favorite swing and pushed off, tucking my feet up so they wouldn’t drag on the ground and I could enjoy the ride. The back and forth of the swing let my mind drift, and of course it drifted right to Hawke and Drake. I needed to stop being such a coward and face them both. But what would I say? They were two of the most alpha-y alpha males I’d ever met. I didn’t think they’d handle me dating them both very well, but I definitely wasn’t ready to make a decision about which one of them I wanted to be with. Hell, I didn’t know if I wanted to be with anyone! My last relationship had made me leery of guys who thought they should be in charge. I was not the right woman for that kind of man. I wanted a partner, not an overlord. I needed more time with them both to help me figure out my feelings. I needed to date them and get to know them, and let them get to know me. I had reservations regarding Hawke and Drake, and those reservations included whether they could handle someone as independent and outspoken as me. My last significant other hadn’t been able to.
I was deep in thought and hadn’t even noticed that my swing had come to a stop until I felt two warm hands grip the swing seat on either side of me, a warm touch that sent electricity straight through my hips. The hands pulled me back, lingering for a moment, then let go. I turned around to see Hawke moving to the side so I wouldn’t hit him when the swing came back. He was wearing his regular uniform of charcoal cargo pants, a dark grey t-shirt that was practically painted on and enhanced every giant muscle in his chest and arms, and combat boots that he could easily run in or kick the smiling chocolate ice cream out of someone with. His straw colored hair took on a pretty golden sheen in the afternoon sunlight, and the shadow of his beard only enhanced the strong lines of his sculpted jaw.