After she rejoined her companions and they went back to the small, dimly lit office, Walt bid them good-night and clocked out. There was no one else on duty except Elaine, one of the mutual dispatchers for fire, police and the sheriff, and she was sequestered inside the locked radio room.
“Do you think the kid told you anything useful?” John asked Samantha.
“I strongly doubt it. What do you know about a bar, across the Missouri state line, a little past Moko?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Bobby Joe said we should ask there about Brutus, but I think he was trying to send us on a wild-goose chase.”
“That’s out of my jurisdiction, anyway. How about visiting his family? They might know who he was hanging around with.”
“True. I don’t know why I didn’t think of doing that sooner.”
“Because you’re too worried to think straight.” John cupped her elbow as he escorted her to his truck. “I’m not at the top of my game, either.” He patted his empty holster. “As you can see.”
“Will you get your gun back when they find Ben Southerland?”
“I sure hope so. I’ve carried that same Glock ever since I got my badge.”
Pausing, she looked him up and down. “Speaking of badges, why don’t we swing by my place and change clothes before we do anything else? Even without a gun, you look way too official for visiting somebody who has a drug addict in their family.”
John rolled his eyes theatrically, his grin wide. “You think?”
* * *
The change of clothing was simplified by the fact that John had already transferred some of his personal possessions to the travel trailer. Therefore, he was not only able to don suitably worn jeans and a T-shirt, he had a holster for his smaller holdout gun that slipped easily into his waistband at the small of his back where it didn’t show.
“About time.” Sam slammed the kitchen door, flew off the porch and joined him in the yard before he had time to fetch her. “Let’s go.”
“I take it you know where Bobby Joe lives,” John said, starting his truck.
“Yes. Head through town, go past the square then take the 395 cutoff. Their home place is that big, old, brick house on the left about five miles out.”
“That description rings a bell. Only I don’t remember the name Boland being associated with it.”
“It’s a long story. Bobby Joe’s two half sisters were taken in by their grandmother, Opal Fox, years ago, but they’re grown now. She added the three teenage boys shortly after you left for Texas.”
“Fox? Any relation to Charlie?”
“I think he may be Opal’s grandnephew or a distant cousin. Why?”
“Because Charlie is a part-time sheriff’s deputy.”
“Well, don’t hold his extended family against him,” Sam warned. “If you did that to every person in this little town you’d soon suspect everybody of something.”
“I suppose you’re right. Charlie has always seemed to be on the up-and-up.”
“Of course he is. I certainly wouldn’t want my reputation to be based on my parents’ actions. It’s bad enough that my dad shows up in jail on a DUI once in a while. He used to phone me to bail him out but I refused often enough that he apparently got the message. He mostly stays home to get drunk these days.”
Her matter-of-fact statement dredged up memories of their past; memories that were poignant even now. Chancing a sidelong glance at her, John noted the jut of her jaw, the stiffness of her spine and the way her hands were clenching the strap of the purse that lay in her lap.
Of course she had a wall built around her emotions. In her position, with her background, who wouldn’t? The sad part was that he had once held the keys to that wall, had had her unfettered, unguarded trust. He knew he had. And he had somehow lost that emotional connection.
Was it all his fault? He doubted it. There were some quirks to Samantha’s personality that had always been hard to anticipate and equally hard to overcome. He knew their current problems were not simply a case of their original disagreement being carried over into the present. That may have been the case when they’d initially met after the hostage crisis in the E.R., but that wasn’t all there was to it now.
She glanced his way and caught him staring. He averted his gaze. This was not the right time for a heart-to-heart with her no matter how strongly he wanted to talk through their differences. That would come later. He could wait. He’d force himself to bide his time, unlike the way he’d acted years ago when he’d kept pressing her to marry and leave town.