She put her hand over his. “Do you really think so, Sheriff?”
He could feel her trembling, so he smiled and then he lied. “Sure I do.”
BY MORNING they’d searched every inch of Pleasant Ridge. There was no sign of T.B.
Miss Dubray returned at dawn. That she wore a dressing gown and slippers instead of her usual day dress, heels and pearls, revealed her state more clearly than did the paleness of her face and the dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked as if she’d slept as little as Klein and Virgil had.
Clint, however, had had no such compunctions. He snored with his head on Miss Dubray’s ankles, drooling onto the floor. She didn’t seem to mind, so Klein let him be.
He and Virgil stood by the coffeepot, out of Miss Dubray’s hearing, filling their cups with more coffee that they did not need.
Virgil had just returned from delivering Jubel to the courthouse, where the man would be arraigned as soon as court convened. Which left the members of the Pleasant Ridge police force free to tackle other problems.
“If T.B. was in town,” Virgil murmured, “someone would have called in a 10-91 by now. With him, maybe a 10-91A. But as long as it isn’t a 10-91C or D, we’ve got to keep searching.”
Klein was too tired to decipher the codes. “Again. In English.”
“You need to study, Chief.”
“What for, when I have you?”
The deputy’s sigh was long-suffering, but he complied. “Someone would have called in a stray animal, or with him maybe a vicious animal. But as long as they didn’t call in an injured animal or a dead one, we should keep looking.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I did.” Virgil added sugar to his coffee.
Klein resisted the urge to snatch the sugar and the coffee away from him. The old man was practically bouncing on his heels, he was so ready to rumble.
“Should we take the squad car? Maybe head out toward the mountains?” Virgil asked.
“I guess that’s the logical choice. You get the car. I’ll tell Miss Dubray where we’re going.”
Virgil started for the exit, then stopped abruptly. His shoulders sagged and he turned around. “No. I’d better tell her.”
Klein frowned. What difference did it make who told her?
Before he could ask, the door opened and they all held their breath. But Isabelle entered, with no T.B. in sight. A collective sigh of disappointment whispered around the room.
“Well, you don’t all have to jump up and down, but you could be a little happier to see me.”
Klein glanced at his watch. It was barely seven a.m. “You’re about five hours early.”
Isabelle shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Join the club.”
His voice was hoarse from a night spent calling “Tid Bit! Here, boy!” He coughed, and the sound woke up Clint, who caught sight of Isabelle. The dog came to his feet with a welcoming woof and hurried toward her with all the joy he was capable of—which wasn’t much—taking a good long whiff of her designer running shoes.
Once Clint met someone, he never forgot the face, or perhaps shoe. The dog sat at Isabelle’s side, her friend for life just because he knew her, and she absently rubbed his ears as her gaze wandered over Klein from head to toe.
He could imagine what he looked like—blood-shot eyes, pale skin, dark shadow of a beard. He probably smelled even better, after living in the same uniform since… He couldn’t quite recall.
“You were up all night, weren’t you.”
“What was your first clue?”
To her credit, she didn’t even blink at his sarcasm, which only made him feel smaller for resorting to it. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s been a long shift—or three.”
Isabelle waved away his apology, her eyes going to Miss Dubray, who still sat poker stiff in the visitor’s chair by his desk, then flicking to Virgil, who still hovered halfway between the door and Miss Dubray. Concern washed over her face, and she returned her attention to Klein.
“What happened?”
“T.B. is missing.”
“The Chihuahua?”
Klein shrugged.
“You’ve been up all night searching for a stray dog?” Her voice was incredulous. “Both of you? After all that happened yesterday?”
“He was lost yesterday. I certainly couldn’t wait and hunt for him next week when it was more convenient for me.”
“That’s not what I meant. But—”
“He’s not just a dog,” Miss Dubray whispered. “He’s my baby. The only one I’ll ever have.”
Klein spread his hands wide. How could anyone argue with that? He certainly couldn’t, and from the expression on Isabelle’s face she couldn’t, either.
“Let me help,” she said.
He nodded. Another pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt. “We were just about to—”
“Chief!” Virgil interrupted. “Could you and—” he waved a bony hand in Isabelle’s direction “—get the car?”
Klein shrugged. “Sure.”
He crossed the room, and Isabelle opened the door. Clint trotted outside; Klein let him go. He’d drop off the dog at home on their way out of town.
He turned back to ask Virgil to leave his pistol in the desk, and froze with his mouth half open. The deputy stood next to Miss Dubray, staring down at her bent head as she dabbed her eyes with a similar, though fresh, handkerchief. The softness of the man’s expression was completely foreign to Klein.
“Hey,” Virgil murmured, and went down on one knee next to her chair.
Klein had never heard that tone of voice from Virgil before—gentle, almost caring—and while he should leave, all he could do was listen.
“We’re goin’ to look outside of town now. You go on home.”
“I know you don’t like him.”
“No one does.”
Klein winced. Couldn’t Virgil lie just once? Probably not.
“But that doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna find him if I can.”
Miss Dubray drew in a deep breath that hitched several times. Virgil patted her knee and stood.
“I’ll be over for my mint julep, same’s always.”
Miss Dubray stiffened. “How can you think of mint juleps at a time like this?”
Virgil’s face crumpled in confusion. “Every day at three you give me my mint julep. We’ve been doing it for thirty years now. Why would today be different?”
“Because today my baby is missing.”
“But—”
“Don’t ‘but’ me.” She stood and poked the deputy in the chest. “There’ll be no sex until you find him.”
Now Klein’s mouth fell all the way open. Sex? Them? What the—?
Isabelle grabbed his arm and tugged him outside, closing the door quietly behind them. Then she collapsed against him, and she was shaking so badly Klein had no choice but to hold her up.
Concern had him forgetting for an instant what he’d just overheard. He rubbed Isabelle’s back, instantly fascinated with the long line of her spine and the play of the muscles along her shoulders. Man, he had it bad if all he could think of was her body while she was crying in his arms.
“Shh,” he murmured. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
She lifted her head. She wasn’t crying but laughing—until tears ran down her face. “They—they—” she pointed at the station “they’re—”
“I know,” he interrupted. He really didn’t want to talk about that.
“Mint julep.” Snort. “Thirty years.” Giggle. “I can’t stand it.”
“That makes two of us.”
She glanced into his face with surprise. Her laughter not yet under control, she pulled away from him and sat on the station steps. Clint, who had been looking back and forth between them, tongue lolling as if he were laughing, too, took the opportunity to slobber on Isabelle’s shoes.
A few moments of deep breathing and Isabelle could speak, though her eyes still chortled. “What’s the mat
ter? It’s kind of sweet, once you get over the shock.”
“I’ll never get over the shock. I think I’m scarred for life.”
“Now, now. It’s not the end of the world.”
“The end of the world as I know it. It was bad enough when I thought my deputy was drinking every day at three, but now to find out that he was—”
Klein couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Having a quickie.”
Klein groaned.
“A little afternoon delight?”
“Don’t.” His throat got tight.
“Slap and tickle?”
“Please.” He coughed.
“Wham, bam, thank you—?”
He couldn’t help it. He started to laugh, and then he couldn’t stop. He had to sit down on the steps next to Isabelle because he could no longer stand up.
After a few seconds she put her arm around his shoulders and tugged him close, almost like a hug, except she did not release him—and he didn’t want her to.
Klein hadn’t felt such a lightness of heart or freedom of being in far too long—perhaps ever. He’d always been too aware that he was often laughed at, and therefore laughing for him was minimal—especially around women.
He liked to see the humor in life, but far too often no one saw it along with him. His job was serious. His friends and acquaintances were, too. But he’d never had a friend or an acquaintance like Isabelle. How could he feel as if he’d known her forever when he’d never seen her before Wednesday?
His laughter slowed. Her arm slid off his shoulders, but when he turned to look at her, she was still grinning.
Her smile disappeared as the door opened behind them, and they both jumped to their feet to face Miss Dubray and Virgil.
The elderly lady marched out of the station. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. She nodded at Klein and stomped off in the direction of the museum.
Klein glanced at Virgil, who appeared as happy as Clint on a bad day.
“Let’s go,” the old man grumbled. “We’re wastin’ daylight.”
He hustled toward the squad car, which was parked a few storefronts away.
“He doesn’t know that we heard,” Klein said.
“No.”
“And I don’t want him to.”
“Why not?”
“Because then I might have to hear all about it.”
“Come now, the details of…” She paused, thought, then smirked. “A little roll in the hay never hurt anyone.”
“My mother said listening to such things would make me go blind.”
“I doubt that.”
“You doubt I’d go blind?”
“I doubt your mother would say it.”
“You don’t know my mother.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her glance at him, then away. Damn. He must have let some telltale emotion slip into his voice when he spoke of his mother. And he was usually so careful, too. But Isabelle seemed to see things in him that others did not.
Virgil honked the horn, and relieved, Klein began to walk toward the squad car. However, Isabelle followed, and she brought along her questions.
“You have a problem with your mother?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t say much.”
“It’s one of my charms.”
“You’d think, wouldn’t you?”
“You don’t think I’m charming?”
“I think you’re spectacular, but—”
He stopped dead. “What did you say?”
“She said you’re spectacular, Klein. But don’t let it go to your head.”
Both of them jumped. Klein didn’t even have to turn around, so he didn’t. “What do you want, Cass?”
“My film restored to its original condition—” She stepped around Isabelle, who watched her with a wary expression, most likely because of the ever-present camera strung around Cass’s neck.
“But since I can’t have that, I’ll take an answer to my question.”
Klein tensed. Cass had a way with questions and a habit of seeing what she wasn’t meant to see. He’d always thought she’d make a better reporter for one of those grocery store sleaze papers than she did for the Pleasant Ridge Gazette—which, now that he thought about it, had taken on the tone of one of those papers since Cass had been in charge. Perhaps that was why circulation had increased. A sad testament to the curiosity of mankind—and Pleasant Ridge.
But instead of a mortifying query, she pulled a swatch of blue from her pocket and twirled it around one finger. “Anyone recognize this sailor suit?”
“Where did you find that?”
He reached for T.B.’s outfit, but Cass jerked it out of his grasp. The momentum from her twirling swept it right off the end of her finger, and the blue cloth hit Clint in the head, then fell to the ground.
He lowered his nose, sniffed the material and sneezed—once, twice, three times. Everyone ignored him.
“Where, Cass?”
“At the edge of town. Highway B.”
The highway. Klein’s heart turned over, then dropped into his belly. “Was there anything else nearby?”
“No. Just the baby outfit from hell. So what’s up?”
Klein glanced at Isabelle. He could tell she was thinking the same thing he was, even before she said, “We’d better go take a look.”
THEY ALL PILED into the squad car—Virgil and Klein in the front; Cass, Belle and Clint in the back. Belle tried to keep her distance from Cass and her camera by shouldering Clint into the middle. But as soon as the car started moving, he climbed right over her and stuck his head out the window. She had little choice but to get out of the way or be danced on by four happy feet.
Except, moving away from the window and avoiding Clint’s waving behind put her so close to Cass that she could see the freckles on the woman’s nose.
Klein mumbled into his radio, and Virgil produced a cell phone from somewhere and did the same thing. Cass gave Belle a sidelong glance.
“Klein is pretty spectacular.”
Belle resisted the urge to snarl.
“He’s a good pal. A faithful friend.”
“Get yourself a dog,” said Belle.
“Well, meow.” Cass stared at Belle contemplatively.
Danger, danger. The warning in Belle’s head sounded suspiciously like the robot from Lost in Space. Regardless, it was a warning she should heed. If Cass Tyler had any inkling of what Belle truly felt for Gabe Klein, Belle would never get the woman out of her face.
So Belle stared right back until Cass shifted, obviously as uncomfortable at being close to Belle as Belle was at being close to her.
“Listen, I heard what you did yesterday.”
Belle stifled a sigh of relief. Cass was still thinking about the accident. Thank God. Maybe her secret was safe.
Which secret would that be, girl?
The robot was gone and her mama’s voice had come back. Swell.
Take your pick, Mama, I got secrets to spare.
“Everyone in town thinks you’re a heroine,” Cass said.
“If you’re looking for heroics—” Belle pointed at the front seat “—look that way.”
Cass nodded. “As you said, Klein’s spectacular. But I wanted to apologize. I would never have stuck a camera in your face if I thought it would make you go off like you did.”
Belle frowned. Was Cass serious in her apology? Or was she merely trying to get a lead on Belle’s problem? What a story that would be: Supermodel Afraid of Having Picture Taken: Fresh, Young Actress Loses Big Chance Because of Camera Phobia.
Cass continued to watch Belle, patiently waiting for an explanation, no doubt. She’d be waiting a long while. Belle had never confided in anyone. She wasn’t about to start blabbing now, especially to a woman like Cass.
Of course, Belle should know better than to judge a person by her occupation. But in this case, she’d just have to be prejudiced. Better safe than sorry.
Klein ended his conversation at the same time Virgil ended his cell transmission.
“Highway patrol reports no Chihuahua, dead or alive,” Virgil stated.
“That’s good news.”
“How you figure?”
“Not dead is good news, isn’t it?”
“I guess,” Virgil grumbled.
Obviously the deputy didn’t care for T.B. With the revelations Belle had overhead that morning, she had to wonder if his dislike stemmed from jealousy more than anything else.
“Right here,” Cass blurted. “Stop.”
Virgil turned off the road and onto the shoulder just past the sign that read: Pleasant Ridge. Population—1,064.
They all got out of the car. Behind them was the town; in front of them, the mountains. In between, nothing but highway flanked by farms and fields.
“He could be anywhere,” Belle murmured.
The sound of Clint’s violent sneezes captured their attention. His nose buried in the blue sailor suit Klein held in one hand, he sneezed, sneezed, then sneezed again.
“Stop that,” Klein ordered, and stuffed the material into his back pocket. He gazed across the rolling hills. The only thing that moved was the breeze through the trees and some cows, or maybe horses, in the distance. “Where could T.B. be?” he murmured.
Clint howled as if in answer, jumped up, snatched the suit from Klein’s pants and took off through a ditch filled with spring runoff.
They were all so shocked that they just stood there watching him. Until the whirring of Cass’s camera as she fired shot after shot woke them from their stupor.
“Get back here!” Klein ordered.
Clint continued to lope up the other side of the ditch. He paused to shake off the water, then turned and wagged his tail. He barked once, which caused the sailor suit to fall to the ground. Unconcerned, he plucked it up in his teeth again and glanced at the four people standing across the wide ditch.
“Do you think he wants us to follow him?” Virgil ventured.
The bloodhound put his nose to the ground and made a beeline for the nearest field.
Klein cursed. “We’re going to have to follow him now.” He turned to Belle and Cass. “You two stay here.”
A Sheriff in Tennessee Page 14