The small town of Getaway was known for two things. First, its name. Legend had it that the first settlers wanted to keep strangers out of the area, so they named it Getaway. Despite some people taking the name the opposite way, claiming they’d found their own getaway in Getaway, the name had stuck.
The other thing was that syndicated advice columnist Myrna Maple lived on a farm about ten miles outside the city limits. Though eccentric, the older woman had been known to dispense random gems of wisdom to people she met on the street.
One of the reasons Nicole had detoured to Getaway had been a hope of meeting Myrna. Therefore, Parker felt talking to the advice columnist would be a good place to start.
Except he didn’t know how to find her. He’d done an internet search of the county property tax records and nothing had come up under her name. Which only meant that Myrna Maples wasn’t her real name or she’d purchased property under a corporation. Hell, she might even be a renter, for all he knew.
He’d bet the sheriff had her location. They’d probably even talked with her. Though Parker knew he could simply call her, the thought of seeing the gorgeous redhead again felt infinitely preferable.
Plus, he needed to keep an eye on things in person, right?
Signaling for the check, he slugged down the rest of his coffee. When the check came, he handed the waitress a twenty and told her to keep the change. He’d managed to kill an hour, which put it a little after eight.
Outside, the early-morning temperature only hinted at the heat to come. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, inhaling the unpolluted air, and then climbed onto his motorcycle. Even with the single stoplight turning red, he made it from the motel to the sheriff’s office in just under three minutes. It wasn’t until he pulled into the parking lot that he wondered if the sheriff would even be on duty this early.
If not, he’d wait until she came in.
Parking his bike, he removed his helmet and strode in through the front door.
“May I help you?” An older woman with steel-gray, close-cropped hair, small silver glasses and a no-nonsense expression greeted him. Her name tag proclaimed her name to be Mary Leeds, dispatcher. She held a disposable up of coffee and took gulps from it as she eyed him. She appeared to be the only person in.
“I’m looking for the sheriff,” he said, taking a second look around the place just in case he might have missed her the first time.
“She’s not here right now,” Mary said. “I can take a message or perhaps Officer Newsome can help you?”
A uniformed man pushed up from his desk behind a cubicle and joined them. Judging from his bloodshot eyes, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. His name tag read Larry Newsome. Eyeing Parker, Officer Newsome patted his paunch. “What can I do you for?” he asked.
Parker repeated himself. “I’m looking for the sheriff. She and I spoke yesterday and she’s checking into something for me.”
Appearing unconvinced, the deputy scratched the back of his neck and yawned. “Why don’t you let me check on that for you? Rayna—the sheriff—always logs everything into the system. That’s how we work. That way, if something happens to one of us, the others can still work the case.”
Which made sense. “Okay,” Parker conceded. “She’s looking into a missing-person case.”
“Oh, you must mean Nicole Wilson.” Straightening, Officer Newsome nodded. “Actually, she assigned that one to me. I refamiliarized myself with the files all last night. I got about four hours’ sleep because I got so caught up in poring over them. I’m not even supposed to be here yet, but I’ve got so many people to talk to that I figured I’d give it a head start.”
While Parker appreciated the other man’s work ethic, one thing stood out to him. Sheriff Rayna Coombs, the woman his uncle Sam said could be relied on, didn’t even care enough to work Nicole’s case personally. She’d assigned it to this guy, Larry Newsome.
Infuriated and disappointed, he bit back a sharp response. “Any idea when the sheriff will be in?”
The other two exchanged glances. “Her daughter is sick,” Mary finally said. “She’s taking the day off to stay home with her.”
“But in the meantime—” the deputy leaned forward, elbows on the counter “—I’ll be more than happy to keep you in the loop on the case.”
Jaw clenched so hard it hurt, Parker forced himself to nod. “That would be awesome,” he managed to say. “When do you plan to start talking to people?”
“Unfortunately, it won’t be today,” Mary chimed in, her tone brusque. “With the sheriff out, we like to have an officer here at all times, just in case. We’ve got a couple others who are out patrolling.”
The phone rang just then and Mary went off to answer it. Both Parker and Officer Newsome watched her go.
A moment later, Mary came back. “Well, you’re in luck,” she told Parker. “That was Rayna. Her little girl’s fever broke. Wanda’s going to keep an eye on her, so Rayna is on her way in.”
“Wanda?” Parker asked before thinking better of it.
“Rayna’s mother,” Mary answered. “She lives with Rayna and Lauren.”
Interesting. Though he knew he shouldn’t have cared, Parker filed this information away.
“I see.” Parker walked over to one of the hard metal chairs in the waiting area. “I’ll just sit here and wait until she arrives.”
Copyright © 2021 by Karen Whiddon
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ISBN-13: 9780369713605
Rescued by the Colton Cowboy
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Deborah Fletcher Mello for her contribution to The Coltons of Grave Gulch miniseries.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Rescued by the Colton Cowboy Page 24
