Once in town she headed to the local police department, a small group of offices adjacent to the village library. Seated behind a galvanized metal desk, a woman resembling Ursula the Sea Witch flicked a glance Cress’s way. Eighties-style hair and overdone nails complemented her heavy-handed make-up. She assessed and dismissed Cress in one quick look, her attention moving back to the active computer screen where a space alien threw blobs of green gook at robust heroes as they clambered through tunneled walls, their light sabers flashing green, gold and pink. “Yes?”
Cress resisted what she wanted to say and put on her best smile. “Hi. I’m Cress Dietrich. Are any of the officers around?”
The older woman paused her game with an overt sigh, looking bored. “You want one of my boys?”
Boys. Great. How delightfully colloquial. They hadn’t quite figured out that women could wear a badge, carry a gun, keep the peace. Cress downgraded the smile a notch. Maybe two. “I’d like to talk to an officer, please.”
The woman shrugged, a look of disinterest firmly in place. “They’re out.”
“All four?”
Boredom changed to a frown. “Seven, actually. We have two officers on at any one time, and the others are on call seven days a week. What was your name again?”
Cress leaned forward, her detective side coming to the fore. “At any point in this conversation did you ask me if I had an emergency?”
The woman’s attitude faltered, but only slightly. She hesitated, snapping one long, over-painted fingernail with another. “No. But I knew you didn’t. No one walks like that if they have an emergency.”
“Or if I was in some kind of trouble?”
“No.”
“Or if I needed assistance?”
“Do you?”
Cress eased back, scowling. “A little late now, don’t you think? What’s your name?”
“Missy.”
That came as a shock to Cress. If ever anyone in the entire world should not have a sweet, homespun name like “Missy”, it was the robust, overdone woman seated before her. Brunhilda, maybe. Mrs. Hannigan. Or that creepy school principal from the movie Matilda, the one with the torture device for errant students.
But… Missy?
Obviously she’d had hopeful parents somewhere along the line, like back in the Mesozoic Era.
Or earlier.
Cress bit back what she wanted to say, thought of her run in with the local squad car patrol a few days previous, and decided retreat looked like the best choice available.
As she turned to leave, the woman stood, her ample form spilling from the chair, a nervous pencil poised, only just now realizing she’d really messed up. “Who did you say you were?”
Cress shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll find a sheriff.”
Pushing through the door, she clenched her hands, wondering how on earth people existed in a one-horse town like this, a handful of non-entity police, a female bulldog guarding the ‘boys’ like a mother dog with scruffed-mutt pups.
She suppressed the gathering headache by pressing her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, thinking. Geographically, the woman and boy were out of Watkins Ridge’s authority. She’d hoped the locals might have a clue as to their identity and the kid’s well-being, but she should have known better.
That meant a trip to the sheriff’s office in Chippewa Falls. Cress glared at her watch. What had been flagged as a simple visit to the grocery store for horse rewards turned into a fruitless venture over something that wasn’t her business.
And Gran would be waiting for her, sandwiches ready, knowing Cress had promised to be at the Village Park before six.
Gran came first, right? Hadn’t she put everything on hold because Gran needed her? Or was it because she needed Gran? That idea pricked her conscience. Either way, her place right now was at Gran’s side. If the locals could turn a blind eye to the strange behaviors of one of their shady citizens, so could Cress.
*
“I have to pee.”
Cress shook her head, glanced at her watch, and willed the minute hand to move with more speed. “You just went, twenty minutes ago. Eat your fruit snacks.”
The five-year-old scowled, then pouted. “You’re not the boss of me.”
Cress thought briefly of the ever-present pistol tucked into her back waistband, her loose tee-shirt providing ample coverage. “Wanna’ bet?”
She gave the littler fellow another push on the swings and met Aiden’s scowl with one of her own. “Didn’t Alex promise you ice cream if you were good?”
Aiden nodded, petulant, his right foot spewing dirt clouds with his toe. “I want it now.”
Cress kept her eye on Nick and her voice as non-combative as she could. “Mouth off to me one more time and you won’t get it at all. And if you think for one minute I don’t mean it,” she leveled a cop stare right at him and was pleased to see the little brat squirm, “then keep it up. Nick and I will eat ours right in front of you, and maybe even get seconds.”
“Nick’s a baby.” Aiden directed his sour attitude toward his kid brother. “Baby’s don’t get seconds.”
“Am not,” Nick protested, his voice hiking up.
“Are too.”
“Am not!”
“Are—”
“Shut up, both of you.”
Two sets of astonished eyes stared at her, while their mouths formed perfect ‘O’s. Nick broke the ensuing silence, his voice awed. “You said a bad word.”
“I did not,” Cress growled, thinking back, wondering if she swore without thinking.
“Did too.” Aiden took a step back as if she were the one in serious deep water. “Daddy says we should never, ever say that. It’s not nice.”
Say…?
Oh.
Shut up. Cress blinked, remembering how often they’d used the phrase as kids. Everyone said it back then, but now…
Nowadays kids probably got sent to some conflict resolution class where a social worker would delve into why they felt the need to command others in a cold, prickly fashion when it would be so much nicer to ask people to be quiet, please.
Yeah. That mindset didn’t exactly cut it in her world.
But she’d gotten the older one’s attention, at least. Now that he understood just how tough she was, maybe he’d toe the line a little better.
“I hate you.”
Okay, maybe not.
Nick’s face went straight back to utter amazement. He twisted in the swing to better see Aiden. “Now you said a bad word, too.”
“So what?” Aiden scrabbled the ground again, this time his dirt thrusts moving ever closer to Cress, missing her bare legs by a hair. “I can say it if I want. I’m five.”
Briefly Cress wondered at what age kids could enter juvie hall in Chippewa County, but she was pretty certain five was too young. Pity. “You can’t hate me, you don’t even know me,” she retorted. “And if you kick that dirt on me you’re going to be one sorry kid. Now either get your butt onto the playground with the hordes of other children, or sit down and be quiet. Your brother and I are having fun.”
Nick looked slightly uncertain, but Cress figured he was having way more fun than his attitude-bearing brother. She nodded toward the playground equipment. “Head over there and play with the bigger kids. Before you know it, football practice will be over and Alex can take you home.”
“Not you?”
In a pig’s eye. She shook her head. “Nope. I’m off duty as soon as the last player is picked up.”
“You won’t have ice cream with me?” Nick’s gentle voice gave her a stab of guilt. He’d been a good little kid, all in all.
“Maybe another time.”
“You’re going to watch us another time?” Aiden’s look of disgust showed his opinion on that. “Do you have to?”
No, brat.
She kept that to herself and shrugged. “I wanted to help your dad out, Aiden. He had to be gone and Alex and Cruz are both coaching. I thought I could
help.” Maybe appealing to his good side would help her cause.
Um. No.
“You’re not even pretty.”
A smack upside the head was sounding pretty good to Cress right now.
Nick turned in righteous indignation. “She is so.”
“Is not.”
“Is so.”
“Is not.”
“Is—”
“Knock it off, you two.” Alex’s voice took a stern edge and Cress had to pretend not to be eternally grateful that he’d shown up. His tone alone knocked Aiden down a peg. Nick’s arms went up immediately.
“Hewwo, Uncle Awex.”
Alex lifted him out of the safety swing and gave him a noogie. “Were you good?”
Nick shook his head yes and leaned forward. “But Aiden wasn’t. And neither was she.” He pointed a serious finger at Cress.
Cress bristled at being blown in like some common criminal. “Listen, turncoat, I didn’t smack your brother regardless of how tempting it seemed, so you should cut me some slack, okay?”
Nick’s brow puckered, trying to figure out what she just said while Alex looked her over. “You’re in one piece. Not too shabby for your first night.”
“Um, yeah, about that, Counselor?” She leveled him a look, dragged her gaze to Aiden, then drew it back to Alex. “First and last.”
Alex grinned. “While I totally understand what you’re loathe to say, Detective, I know that once you consider the mitigating circumstances you’ll reconsider. You did promise Gran, after all.”
“Promise?” Cress didn’t remember being allowed the luxury of a promise. “Hoodwinked would be a better term.”
“A commitment is a commitment,” he reminded her, laugh lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. “And I said I’d get ice cream for anyone that was good. I guess that means you.” He kissed Nick’s cheek and set the boy down, taking a firm grasp of his hand as cars moved along the park road, toting tired children home. He slanted Cress a look of invitation. “And since I think you’re pretty good in general, Ms. Dietrich, Nick and I would be pleased to have you join us.”
“No, I—”
“Pwease?”
Nick’s entreaty was hard to resist. Aiden clinched the deal by making a face at her, hoping she’d head home, no doubt. In which case…
“I’d love to.” She flashed the five-year-old a ‘gotcha’ smile and grabbed the bag of waters and fruit snacks. “I’ll just get my car and meet you guys there.” She’d made it a good ten steps before Alex’s voice paused her.
“Hey, Cress?”
She swung back. “Yes?”
“Are too.”
She puzzled, thought, then smiled as the light bulb clicked on. “Why, Counselor, thank you.”
Something about his lazy grin as he held the hands of two little boys made her take a step back, remembering the tiny plaid coat in Gran’s cedar chest, the thoughts of snowy days and cozy nights. One hand came to her face, her neck, fingers trailing, wondering if Alex ever thought of settling down, having a family. He’d be a good father, she supposed, just seeing him with Mac’s boys.
His left brow arched slightly. His grin deepened. He dipped his chin, head angled, the smile doing goofy things to her cardio-vascular system. “See you at Smithy’s.”
“Right.”
She dropped her hand, turned and walked to her car, eyes down, mentally slapping herself. What was she thinking? What was she doing? She had a job and a life in Minneapolis, didn’t she? A place where women on the force were respected and promoted. Where real crimes occurred on a daily basis and her instinct and intelligence brought hard-core criminals to justice.
A job that had ended with her taking a bullet in the leg because her attentions were split. The thought of facing that, facing Carl, the partner she’d endangered because she let personal issues interfere with professional duties, weighed heavy.
She stewed all the way from the parking lot to the village light, a distance of less than a thousand feet, thoughts churning, the directional switch mocking her from its spot on the dashboard.
Should she turn right toward the ice cream shop where Alex Westmore waited with two motherless little boys?
Or left toward Gran’s house, two feet tucked firmly in the soil of the past?
The light turned green.
A car honked softly behind her, the gentle toot of small-town America as opposed to the blaring horns of rush-hour traffic in a metropolis.
She hesitated three quick beats, then heaved a sigh, hit the directional and cranked the wheel left, pushing aside feelings of regret with a firm hand.
Chapter Ten
Cruz leaned through the doorframe of Alex’s office the next morning, arms braced on either side of the cherry molding. “Your new friend came by the sheriff’s office a little while ago.”
Alex frowned, stood and tucked a file into the top desk drawer before sliding the door shut and testing it to make sure the lock engaged. “New friend?” Visions of area kids flitted through his brain. He shook his head as he headed toward Cruz. “I don’t know—”
“Crescent Dietrich.”
Alex put up a flat hand. “Nothing new or different about Cress. Same old, same old. And she’s not my new friend.”
“Which is why you had her watching Mac’s kids last night?” Cruz wondered before giving Alex a brotherly shove. “She just happened to be in town and jumped at the opportunity to babysit kids she’s never met.”
Alex kept moving toward the main office door. “She’s met Mac.”
“Everybody’s met Mac.”
“Her grandmother shamed her into it.”
“Uh huh.”
“She did.” Alex shut the office door, tested the lock, and headed for the street exit, his laptop bag in hand. “And when Gran guilts you, you listen.”
“Right.”
Alex slid the topic away from babysitting and women that promise to come for ice cream, then don’t show up. “To what did the Chippewa County Sheriff’s office owe a visit from a Minneapolis detective?”
“She was looking for information about a woman.”
Alex frowned and wished his pulse didn’t ramp up at the thought of Cress doing anything. “What woman?”
“A loner out on Highway Nine. Keeps to herself. Raising a grandkid, I guess.”
Alex frowned, confused. So did Cruz. “I don’t get it either. Mick filled me in because he saw her with Mac’s kids last night, and figured she was a friend, then she showed up this morning asking questions.”
“So who is this woman again? And why do we care?”
“She inherited Tan Wandtke’s place. I guess they were friends and she helped the old guy out. Took care of him when he was dying, and Tan left her the house.”
“So we actually know nothing about her?” Which meant Cress knew nothing about her, right? “Why would she spark Cress’s interest?”
Cruz shook his head, hands up, palms out. “Ask her. She’s your girlfriend, not mine.”
“Yeah, right.” Alex dismissed his brother’s declaration with a shake of his head, but his interest was piqued. Obviously Cress had tweaked the interest of the sheriff’s office as well, if Mick had carried the story to Cruz. “Can we find out anything about this woman?”
“Legally?”
Alex frowned, knowing the answer.
Cruz climbed into Alex’s front seat and gave him the low-down. “She’s been divorced for nearly two decades, did some odd jobs for people, has some sort of disability and gets a government check every month.”
“And lives off the road, out of sight, with a kid.”
Cruz worked his jaw, his fingers tapping a flat beat against his knee. “Yup.”
Alex considered the options, then turned to face Cruz. “You know Cress is probably right, don’t you?”
Cruz narrowed his eyes. “Why would you assume that?”
Because he’d grown up with her. Knew her penchant for digging up truth, even when it meant hurting those
around her. Including things about their father Alex would have liked to remain private. He shoved off the memory of childhood taunts as old news, best forgotten. “She’s good at what she does. Always has been. If there was something to be found out, Cress did it, even when we were kids.”
Back then, nothing Cress uncovered stayed private. Right now, that might turn out to be a good thing.
“How’d she see this woman?”
Cruz jerked his head toward the grocery store as they passed it. “Spotted her at Gordy’s and didn’t like the attitude.”
“Nothing in the woman’s record about having a kid?”
“No, but there wouldn’t necessarily be if it’s a grandkid, right?”
Alex acknowledged that with a half-shrug. “Kid had to come from somewhere.”
He banked a turn onto Mac’s road and glanced back at Cruz. “You guys following up on this?”
“Unofficially. We’ve got to stay on the upside of legal, but I think they’re going to check things out.”
“Quickly?”
Cruz ‘s finger drummed a faster beat. He shifted, frowning. “I hope so.”
*
Cruz’s words niggled Alex. He wasn’t sure if it was the idea of a kid who might possibly be in rough circumstances or the fact that Cress was willing to act on her own to sort things out.
Then he realized it was both.
He swung by to visit Gran late in the day, hoping to find out what Cress might know.
Stacey Dietrich smiled as he strode through the door. “Alex. Good to see you.”
He nodded back. “You, too. I thought I’d stop by and see how Gran’s doing.” He held up a small bouquet of bright-toned flowers. “Thought she might like a bit of color indoors.”
“Smelly things.” Gran huffed around the corner from the dining room, her gaze narrow. “I’ve got flowers.” She angled her head toward the side yard where the mums stood in full bloom. “Plenty of ‘em. Save your money.”
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