by Pamela Tracy
When he did, though, Leann was going to be a squeaky wheel. She’d done her time and was ready for a promotion.
Leann started her patrol vehicle and headed down the familiar road, driving by the town’s busiest convenience store, where she once prevented a robbery, then on past the high school, where the coach was always leaving lights on, either the stadium’s or his vehicle’s, and then she started thinking about lunch.
Oscar drove by in his cruiser, giving a honk and waving. She waved back. Why couldn’t he have been hired after Lucas retired?
She loved her job. Loved that as Sarasota Fall’s first and only female officer she had obligations that she met and that she made Sarasota Falls a better place, a safer place. Something changed inside her when she dressed for work. It was like she shed all her insecurities and became someone strong, someone to be respected.
Not because of who her parents were but because of who she was.
She needed that promotion, deserved it, so she could stand on her own two feet. Not that she didn’t appreciate her ex-husband’s parents, who provided free child care and unconditional love for her kids. Leann was the force that kept them from spoiling her boys the way they had their own son. Sometimes she succeeded.
She’d always be grateful for the school clothes they purchased, the sport fees they paid and the holiday meals. She just didn’t have the money—even with her job and with child support.
Ryan Bailey was an absentee father because of his military duties, but in his place were his very attentive parents.
They were a huge help. Although, the reality was that they were getting older and she had to think of the future. The extra income from the promotion would be enough to make a difference financially and help offset the cost of child care, if it came to that.
Until then she’d have to make do on her own.
Meanwhile, there was something—or rather someone—in her way. Gary Guzman, dog lover extraordinaire, had a brother named Oscar, who didn’t have her insecurities and who had a resume that made her work experience look like she was a trainee.
Goober. What a name for a dog?
Darn, here she was contemplating her promotion and thoughts of Gary Guzman interfered. Good thing he was aimless. Not a chance she’d ever be interested in him. She had a mortgage and two sons. She didn’t trust men as a rule, thanks to her own father and her ex-husband. She saw nothing to trust in Gary. And she was annoyed that he dared invade her thoughts—again. She stopped a driver and gave him a citation for having expired tags. Then, she wrote another quick incident report, circled Main Street once and headed for the Station Diner. She’d grab a bowl of soup and cup of coffee before continuing on. Who knows how many more expired tags she’d be battling today.
She pushed the door open and walked into the familiar diner. She’d started coming here in junior high with her best friend, Patsy, and Patsy’s family. Her parents wouldn’t deign to frequent a “dive” like this. Leann loved the place. If one of her children spilled a glass of water, a waitress handed over a towel and no white linens were ruined. Here, a person could joke with the folks at the next table because the tables were so close. The laughter was muted at the places her parents liked, and children were seen but not heard.
She shrugged out of her jacket, aware of the Glock 17 tucked in its holster, and looked down the aisle toward her favorite booth in the back.
William Benedict nodded at her and went back to his pancakes. If she’d just turned Peaches over to new owners, she’d be drowning her sorrows with chocolate. She supposed pancakes could do the trick, and Benedict did look a bit distressed.
“Coffee,” she called to Joe as he peeked his head around the door frame. He responded with, “You know where it is.”
She helped herself and headed for her favorite booth and the man who occupied it. “Mind if I join you?”
“Go ahead,” Benedict answered.
She settled in, added two packets of sugar to her coffee and studied the soldier across from her. He wasn’t lean like Gary. Benedict was more the compact but stocky type. He’d be fast and furious, she figured. Not like Gary, who’d be fast and fluid. Benedict had a regulation buzz cut and she wondered if Gary’s hair had stood up that straight. Now it was short, but not military short.
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the image of Gary. She wanted to talk to Benedict.
He apparently wanted to talk to her. “Will Goober be all right with Guzman? I mean, why were you there?”
Leann immediately flashed on Gary and Wilma from last night. Gary might not be the most polished handler, but he’d been out with his dog, trying his best. In her book, that took heart. She blew a mist of steam from the top of her coffee, took a sip, still too hot, and said, “Someone complained about barking. It’s nothing. Goober will be fine, but I really think it’s strange you took a chance driving all this way to drop off a dog with a complete stranger. What if Gary said no?”
“My orders were not to take no for an answer,” Benedict said, wiping a smudge of syrup from his shirt.
“Orders?”
“Guzman’s commanding officer is worried about him. He told me to take the dog, leave it in Gary’s truck if I had to, and retreat.”
Leann almost spit out the coffee she’d just inhaled. “Retreat? What?”
“Gary’s having a bit of trouble adjusting to civilian life. We all do. When Max told the commander how much time Gary was spending with Wilma, Commander thought another dog would be just the thing.”
“That’s pretty presumptuous,” Leann noted.
“You’re telling me. And, just how the commander knew I had a dog I didn’t want is pretty amazing, too.”
“How could you not want Goober?”
Benedict merely shrugged. “I’m never home.”
“Was Goober really your mother’s?”
“Nah, she was my sister’s, who really is pregnant with triplets. Her youngest boy, turns out, has asthma, so I took the dog to help them out. Which,” he added, “I have done.”
“Do you even know Gary?” Leann asked.
“No, we’ve had different deployments. I hear he’s a decent guy.”
Leann couldn’t respond to that. She knew a few decent men, worked with them. She didn’t want to continue that thread because one of those decent guys might get her promotion.
Benedict rolled his eyes. “I was going to put Goober up on Craigslist. Last time Goober had puppies, that’s what my sister did. But, I could never disobey an order from the commander.”
Leann thought back to Bianca’s Bed-and-Breakfast this morning and wondered what demons were chasing Gary that had his former commanding officer sending him dogs to take care of.
* * *
GARY REREAD CHAPTER FOUR AGAIN. It had a checklist for training an adult dog. Unfortunately, the author of How to Train Your Dog in Three Days hadn’t taken into account a dog that only understood German. So far today, Gary had requested that Wilma come a dozen times. Wilma ignored him a dozen times.
Instead, she ran back and forth across his aunt Bianca’s backyard, skidding up dirt and leaving a gift in the garden that Gary quickly cleaned up.
“Any progress?” Bianca called as she stepped onto the back porch.
“No.”
“It will happen.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I remember when your dad was about twelve, and he came home with some old mutt he’d found abandoned by the railroad tracks.”
Gary stopped. His aunt rarely mentioned his father. Sometimes he even forgot that his father was Aunt Bianca’s little brother. She seemed so much like everyone else, the good side, his mom’s side.
“The dog, oh, I don’t remember his name,” she continued, “but he’d obviously been on his own for a long time. He had no social graces.”
“Like Wilma?” Gary said, tryi
ng to bring the conversation back to now, these dogs, himself, not his dad.
“No, Wilma’s a good dog. She just misses her owner. Berto’s dog was missing half its fur and half an ear. It would run around in circles, jumping for hours.” Aunt Bianca laughed. “Drove our mother crazy. But, your father never gave up. By the time he got finished with that dog, you’d never have known he was a wild stray. Roberto was always trying to take care of animals and people.”
Gary almost pointed out how his father hadn’t taken much care of his own family. But, something in Aunt Bianca’s expression changed his mind, so instead he changed the subject and said, “Goober doesn’t act like Wilma.”
Aunt Bianca glanced over at Goober, who followed at Wilma’s heels, herding the other dog. “She’s older.”
He turned his attention back to Wilma, who’d given up trying to impress them with her running and turning skills and was now rolling on her back.
Gary patted his left leg and once again called for Wilma in German. The dog remained on its haunches. Goober, however, trotted obediently over and looked up at Gary.
“You so remind me of Berto,” Aunt Bianca said.
Gary felt a knot forming between his shoulder blades. He shook his head. “No, I’m not like him.”
“You are. More than any of the others—”
“Aunt Bianca, I’m not like him.”
“Anna’s about to graduate college. Hector’s finishing his doctorate. You and Oscar are here. It’s time to think about the past, about your father. I’ve never believed he just walked away. He came here all those years ago, and it was like he was on a mission. There was something going on. I just wish I knew what happened.”
The knot tightened and so did his stomach. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Aunt Bianca stopped rustling the fur on top of Goober’s head. “That’s the problem. We didn’t talk about it enough. Your mother and I were so careful not to upset you kids. We should have questioned things more when your father disappeared.”
Gary froze.
“Do you remember that your father was last seen here in Sarasota Falls?” Aunt Bianca queried.
Gary did know that.
“I just think,” Aunt Bianca continued, “there’s more to find.”
Gary really wanted to run, disappear, which he was good at. But he was stuck and, unfortunately, starting to think of a few what-ifs. “No,” he finally said. “My mom tried to find him, waited and...”
The expression on Bianca’s face said differently. “Aunt Bianca, I know that my dad’s leaving was bad, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t care or notice him gone. And, I’m sure the police—”
Aunt Bianca interrupted with “could have done more.”
Where was this coming from? Why now? Taking a deep breath, he walked toward his aunt and put an arm around her shoulder. “Aunt Bianca, your family helped settle Sarasota Falls. No way would an effort not be made to find him. As for me and my siblings, we missed him every single day. But, we got by. Sometimes that’s the best you can do.” Gary bent down, picked up one of Wilma’s toys and threw it as far as he could. Wilma took off running.
“No.” Bianca’s voice was now matter-of-fact. “It’s not the best. It’s the easiest.”
Gary hated this, hated that she was taking him to a dark place he’d not revisited in a long, long time.
“Your mother too easily believed that he’d left her. I questioned his leaving, and at first she listened. But as more time went by, she stopped believing in him. But why? Something kept him from coming back.”
“Maybe because he had a girlfriend,” Gary ground out. It’s what he’d always thought, feared, but never mentioned to his mother. Instead, he’d internalized it. Maybe that’s why he’d never wanted to marry and made darn sure to never get close to someone who wanted to marry him.
Aunt Bianca shook her head. “No, not a girlfriend.”
“Maybe it was because he was tired of having all us kids. Oscar remembers the last fight our parents had.”
“He’d never walk out on you children.”
“He did,” Gary insisted. “My mother was beyond hurt and she didn’t declare him dead for years.”
Aunt Bianca raised her hand. “The family needs closure. Think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”
Wilma whined a bit and this time when Gary took the toy and threw it, it sailed over the back fence, no chance for Wilma to retrieve.
“Look,” Aunt Bianca said, relaxing a little, “Goober’s owner said it best. You have time. So, I’m now asking for a favor. Figure out what really happened.”
“Almost twenty years later?”
“Yes, if anyone can do it, you can. You can ask Leann to help. She’s trying to make a name for herself. Solving a cold case might be the very thing.”
Working a cold case alongside a pretty detective was not a good idea. Of that, Gary was sure.
CHAPTER FOUR
WEDNESDAY WAS LEANN’S day off.
In truth, as she turned into the elementary school’s parking lot, she mused how this day probably wouldn’t be too relaxing. Number one on her schedule was to switch her cop persona for her mom persona.
If she were lucky, she’d do a decent job.
The problem with being a cop, Leann thought while standing at the back of her son’s sixth-grade classroom, was she’d grown used to issuing orders and having them immediately obeyed.
That didn’t work in a sixth-grade classroom, especially when she was dressed in tennis shoes, old jeans and a bright red button-down.
“Mom,” Tim whispered, “don’t embarrass me.”
She shot him a look that had just last week sent a computer hacker to his knees in fear. Tim, however, was made of sterner stuff and huffed away. Honestly, working a ten-hour shift yesterday bringing down bad guys—Gary, dog owner extraordinaire; the outdated tag guy; and two speeders—was easier than helping in her older son’s class. And, to add insult to injury, she was helping with a Valentine’s Day art project. First problem—Leann wasn’t artistic. Second problem—she’d not been anyone’s Valentine in—she quickly counted in her head—five years.
No, six.
“Mom,” came a groan.
For the next hour, Leann worked her station. Every fifteen minutes she got a new group of eleven- and twelve-year-olds. She provided paint, clean paintbrushes and wipes to clean their hands with. Pinecones went from brittle brown to bright pink or red. Some pinecones were saturated; others were spotty. Most of the girls didn’t get any paint on their hands but cleaned them anyway. Most of the boys got paint on their hands, shirts and pants. Tim—she was no longer allowed to call him Bug, her pet name for him—managed to get paint on his ear. She quickly whipped out her cell phone and took a photo, which earned yet another roll of the eyes and an exasperated, “Moooom!”
Finally, the kids trudged off to PE and she and Patsy, the mother who’d thought up this punishment, helped the teacher clean up. In two days—once the paint dried—the students would glue on fake eyes and kissy lips and add pipe cleaners for arms and legs. Then they’d add a heart to the Valentine people. Leann figured it would have been easier to hand them a piece of paper and some colored pencils.
Patsy Newcastle, mom and Pinterest fan extraordinaire, never lacked for ideas. She’d found the Valentine’s people art project on Pinterest and had fallen in love. No surprise. Last year, Leann had helped the sixth-graders—then fifth-graders—make flowerpot people for Christmas, pinto bean turkeys for Thanksgiving and giant, hanging black licorice spiders for Halloween.
Leann felt sorry for Aaron in fourth grade. Anything art related was really limited, so Leanne usually took home extra unused material from Tim’s class so she and Aaron could make the projects. He liked making the giant licorice spider the best and probably would still have it hanging from his ceiling if he hadn�
��t eaten it.
She wasn’t so sure she still liked Patsy, who was saying, “I’ve already got an idea for Easter.”
“Are we even allowed to celebrate Easter in school?” Leann cautioned.
Patsy narrowed her eyes. “I’ll take responsibility.”
And, Leann would back her up. Patsy had been her best friend since their own sixth-grade year. The only private school in town had closed down, and, gasp, the Crabtree children had been forced into attending public school.
Leann loved it. The first day, she’d sat across from Patsy, who secretly passed her a stick of gum, and their friendship had been cemented. They’d become even closer when they gave birth to their first babies on the same day. Ryan hadn’t made it back to town and to the hospital until it was time to drive Leann and little Ryan—her ex insisted on naming the baby after himself—home. Patsy’s husband, however, had bounced between rooms, handing out chocolate cigars to visitors—Patsy had dozens; Leann had two: Patsy’s husband and Gail—and making sure both women had plenty of chocolate. Later, Patsy confided that half the time when he handed out a cigar, he’d said, “We have a boy! And so does Leann.”
The day Leann’s divorce finalized she stopped calling Ryan by his first name and switched to his middle name of Timothy, now Tim. So far, he hadn’t questioned it.
Exiting the classroom, they made their way past the playground—earning Leann a “Hi, Mom!” from Aaron, who was swinging and not embarrassed of her at all—and through the school office to their cars. Patsy wasn’t going back to work. She’d married a doctor and now acted as his receptionist, meaning she could make her own hours.
“I’ve got your boys after school,” Patsy reminded her. “Don’t worry. I’m thinking pizza and Star Wars.”
