stuff that had been investigated yesterday—which amounted to nearly nothing unless one was impressed with local traffic stops.
And then the sheriff finished. He didn’t look toward Kathlene. He didn’t have to.
But she knew exactly whom he spoke to next, since he did so often.
“Now, we’ve had a few more local applications for hunting licenses. Like always. Nice for the economy since the licenses aren’t cheap, plus some of the sportsmen—that’s what they consider themselves, you know—are joining the others already here who’re practicing their shooting skills and all. I’ve talked to them. They talk to me. No one’s been hurt as they do their target practice—still. And no one will be hurt.”
He stopped, looking over the heads of nearly all the deputies quietly facing him, some jabbing each other in the sides with their elbows as they nodded toward Kathlene and laughed.
“So...today’s a new day. Anyone want to ruin our meeting by objecting to our visitors?” This time, he shot a look right at Kathlene, challenging her, even as he guffawed aloud.
She said nothing. Just looked down as if there was something loose on her utility belt that she had to check.
Same as every day. Even as she felt her face flush, her insides churn.
His discussions with the sportsmen suggested they didn’t mind authority, so they couldn’t be anarchists, could they? Or was he being wooed by them so he’d leave them alone?
Melton obviously wanted her to quit and run. She knew it. And she was tempted daily. Like now. After he had humiliated her—again.
“You okay?” Tommy X whispered without looking at her. He’d already told her that his standing up and arguing in her favor would only garner more reaction from the sheriff and nearly all his minions.
“Fine,” she said. As always.
This time, though, she had something to add. For once.
“But I’m really looking forward to having lunch today with my dear old college friend,” she told Tommy X.
* * *
In the late morning gloom, Kathlene had walked briskly down the busy Cliffordsville sidewalk from the sheriff’s station toward the Clifford Café, the place she had chosen to meet Jock and Ralf. She’d called to let them know the address.
She had gotten there first and grabbed a table in a corner. Now she looked around. She knew maybe a half dozen patrons there, some waiting for their meals and others eating already. As she caught the eyes of a few, she smiled and lifted her hand in a wave of greeting. She remained in uniform since she would return to duty in a little less than an hour, so they clearly knew who, or at least what, she was.
This wasn’t usually where she spent her lunchtime, but it seemed an appropriate place for today.
The place smelled delicious, with the aroma of grilled meats and baking bread in the air. The sound of voices was mostly a low hum. She couldn’t make out what was said in any conversations, but that was fine with her.
Even so, none of the tables in this busy joint was completely immune from eavesdropping by the nosy locals who frequented it. In a way, that was a good thing. Word would get out that Kathlene had publicly dined with those friends she’d been talking about. Nothing sneaky about that. Not worth anyone spending any time puzzling over or talking about.
Unless, of course, those friends of hers were successful in outing, and taking federal custody of, some or all of the sportsmen. If word got out, that might be something worth more than some lunchtime gossip.
In any event, this wasn’t Kathlene’s usual midday meal. Her favorite lunch on days she was on duty was to grab a sandwich to go at one of the chains where she could choose everything from the bread to the meat and all other ingredients. That way, she could stuff it with all the salad makings she could want.
It was too hard to eat salads in patrol cars. And fortunately, the guy who was usually her partner, chosen especially for that role by her buddy Sheriff Frawley, could also get all the unhealthy menu items he wanted, too.
That way, Deputy Jimmy Korling didn’t gripe at her. At least no more than usual.
Today he had griped, though, since she was actually taking an hour to have lunch by herself. Well, not exactly by herself. With her old college buddy Jock and his traveling companion, Ralf.
“Can I bring you a drink to start with, Deputy Baylor?” The server had obviously read Kathlene’s name tag. She wore a dress with a short skirt covered by a dainty apron—the kind of woman, Kathlene was sure, that Sheriff Frawley expected all his female deputies to be. Not that she had anything but complete respect for this server, who also wore a name tag. Hers said she was Addie. But Addie had chosen to take on this kind of job.
Kathlene hadn’t.
“Just a cup of coffee,” Kathlene said, smiling. “And a recommendation for what I should order after my friends arrive.”
As she said that, she glanced past the server’s shoulder toward the front entrance. There they were—Jock and Ralf were just entering the restaurant. As they looked around, Kathlene half stood and waved.
“Are your friends here now?” Addie asked.
“Yes. I’m sure we’ll be ready to order soon. Your suggestions?”
Addie described the specials—a turkey club sandwich, a meat-loaf platter, the soups of the day. By the time she was through, she went over them again as Jock and Ralf pulled their chairs from beneath the table and took their seats. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide,” she said after taking their drink orders.
Kathlene noticed how the pretty brunette server’s eyes skimmed approvingly over Jock, who smiled back. Oh, yeah, the server had noticed how sexy he was. How could she help it? But that didn’t matter to Kathlene. Couldn’t matter.
So why did she want to shake the waitress and tell her to go get their drinks? Fast.
“Do you have any other recommendations?” Ralf asked. This time his T-shirt was blue with a circular logo representing the Montana flag in the middle, along with the state motto “Oro Y Plata”—gold and silver. He’d definitely done his homework before coming here, probably ordered his shirt online. His toothy grin was friendly, not suggesting at all that he was anything but what he pretended to be: a visitor who’d come here along with a friend on a road trip.
Jock, on the other hand, was also in jeans but with a snug black T-shirt on top. It hugged his ample muscles and emphasized the tightness of his hot body. He wasn’t smiling at Kathlene, though. Instead, his hazel eyes regarded her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Curiosity? Irritation? Challenge? Maybe all of the above—but she was entitled to feel each of those emotions even more than he did.
Although she had no doubt that he believed otherwise.
She turned back to Ralf. “I don’t eat here often, but when I do I usually order one of the specials. I’ve never had a bad meal at this place, though, so just pick whatever sounds best to you.”
At least here, sitting at a table, she could order a salad. The Cobb salad at this café was one of the best she had ever
