Finding the Road Home

by Tina Radcliffe

  “Can’t say you took the words out of my mouth on that one.” He stared into the depths of his coffee cup and frowned. “What happened to the Rebel Roast? I can’t drink this sludge.”

  “You’re drinking it faster than our budget can keep up,” Henna said.

  Daisy resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the cranky senior officer. Roscoe had definitely poured himself a heaping bowl of his brand of negative before he showed up to work. That meant another interesting eight hours on patrol. She headed to the coffeepot for a fill-up while praying under her breath for patience.

  “I don’t understand how the county can renege on a promise,” he groused. “Sounds unconstitutional to me.”

  “It is what it is. Your attitude isn’t helping,” Henna said. She looked him straight in the eye. “If we want to keep Daisy’s position and ensure a cost-of-living raise, we’ve got to come up with an idea that’s better than anyone else’s.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” Roscoe asked. “The last good idea that came out of this office was twenty years ago when they got rid of white Stetsons with the duty uniform.”

  “I heard that, McFarland,” Mitch called from his office.

  “Am I right?” Roscoe shot back.

  “I like to think that a few good ideas have emerged in the last four years,” Mitch said. He stepped into the staff area of the department with a coffee cup in hand.

  Daisy’s back was to Mitch, and she kept it that way. She wasn’t certain how she felt after their conversation on Saturday. She’d been in a male dominated job for over nine years, and it never presented a problem before. So why did her pulse quicken in his presence? Why now? And why this man? He was her boss, and she needed to remember that.

  “I do have some good news,” Henna said in a singsong voice. Her dark eyes sparkled as she faced her coworkers.

  Henna was most definitely on the far end of the optimism spectrum. She was a contrast to Roscoe the pessimist and Mitch the cynic. The woman managed to transform the atmosphere everywhere she went into something bright and shining.

  “I’ll take good news,” Mitch said.

  “Pastor Tuttle has offered to let us use the church activity room free of charge for the safety education classes.” She offered a mischievous grin. “And there’s more.”

  “Uh-oh,” Roscoe muttered. “Maybe I ought to sit down.”

  “Drumroll, please. So far, we have fifty sign-ups. Can you believe it?”

  “Fifty?” Daisy asked. Her idea was a success.

  “That’s right,” Henna returned.

  “We haven’t even made it official,” Mitch said.

  “Daisy and I discussed it on Sunday before church. I thought she said that you liked the idea.” She glanced between Daisy and Mitch. “Was I wrong?”

  “No. I guess not,” Mitch said almost hesitantly.

  Henna picked up a glazed donut. “The Henna train is coming through. Get on board or get run over.”

  Daisy hid a grin behind her coffee mug. She was right. Daisy might have talked a good one to Mitch on Saturday, but clearly Henna was conducting this train.

  “Why are there so many sign-ups?” Mitch asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

  “Safety education is a hot topic,” Daisy said.

  “Or maybe our police chief is,” Henna murmured.

  Mitch’s eyes rounded. “You didn’t put my name out there, did you?”

  “Of course not.” Henna smiled. “I said that you and Daisy are teaching the class.”

  Daisy winced. Uh-oh.

  “No, way,” Mitch returned.

  “All you have to do is stand at the back of the class and nod. A small price to pay to save our budget and Daisy’s job.”

  “How many of those eager sign-ups are of the female persuasion?” Roscoe asked.

  “All of them.”

  Roscoe burst out laughing, nearly spilling his coffee.

  “Nope. No way,” Mitch said.

  “Chief, you know every woman in a fifty-mile radius will sign up if your name is attached to the project.”

  Roscoe continued to laugh. “Sounds like they already did.”

  While Mitch’s attention was focused on Henna, Daisy allowed herself to assess her boss. Her gaze skimmed over the broad shoulders and handsome profile. He was definitely the complete package.

  Henna’s plan was solid, though the idea of teaching a room filled with love-struck women was oddly annoying.

  “Ignore Roscoe,” Henna said.

  “No problem,” Daisy said. “I get that the chief is the draw.”

  Mitch crossed his arms and pinned his gaze on Henna. “So that’s your plan. You want me to just stand at the back of the class?”

  Henna shrugged. “Unless you have a better idea.”

  “I’d be happy to review my curriculum with you,” Daisy said. “I mean if you’d like to teach.”

  His gaze met Daisy’s, and then he nodded in dismissal. “Sure. Fine. We can discuss this later.”

  Daisy swallowed. Mitch was definitely not fine.

  “Anything else?” he asked, obviously eager to move along.

  “Daisy and I took the kids on a road trip after church yesterday,” Henna added. “We drove through a few of the towns in the area and picked up the local newspapers.” She pulled a stack of weeklies from a tote on her desk. “There are a lot of good things going on in the county.”

  “And...” Mitch prompted.

  “One word,” Henna said. “Ride-along.”

  He raised his mug as if in toast. “I’m all for great ideas. Ride-alongs are not one of them.”

  “Chief, you can’t veto everything.” Henna offered a loud scoffing sound. “A ride-along would foster good community relations. Everyone is doing it.”

  “First, sure I can. That’s why my name is on that door. And second, ride-alongs are absolutely something to look into. For the future. The liability issue alone is going to take some time to work through.”

  Daisy nodded. She had to admit he was right about the legal aspect.

  Mitch rubbed his chin in that way that was becoming familiar to Daisy as code for him carefully considering his words.

  “This department should have stepped up our game a long time ago. I take responsibility for that. Now it’s the eleventh hour for Rebel. We need to do something bigger and better than the competition. Make no mistake, every small town in this county is vying for those funds. It will take a remarkable plan to secure the pot for us.”

  “You’re right, Chief,” Henna said. “We have to do something that will stand out when our paperwork is turned in.”

  “Exactly,” Mitch said. “Think long-term benefit and continued liaison between the police department and the community.”

  Daisy observed the exchange as ideas ping-ponged through her mind. Finally, unable to listen quietly, she cleared her throat. “I haven’t been here long enough to be very knowledgeable about Rebel, however, it seems to me that we have to figure out what the citizens need.”

  “Need?” Roscoe echoed. He frowned as though she was speaking a foreign language.

  “Yes. What’s missing in this town? What project will also be a unifying factor that will bring everyone together?”

  “That’s easy,” Henna said. “We need a place where everyone can meet. A town hall or community center for special events and meetings. Something that offers opportunities for every demographic of Rebel.”

  “Yes,” Daisy murmured. Henna seemed to get what she was trying to say.

  “That’s pie in the sky because we don’t have the time or the funds to build anything,” Roscoe grumbled. “Didn’t you hear the chief? We have less than three months.”

  “Repurpose.” Henna snapped her fingers. “What about the old library building?”

  When Mitc
h’s face lit up, Daisy knew he was starting to get it.

  “You’re right,” he said. “The building is just sitting there empty.”

  “Where is Rebel’s library now?” Daisy asked.

  “It expanded and is now part of the county system. They moved around the corner to Second Street about five years ago,” Henna said.

  “The former library building belongs to the city, and it’s got some historical relevance we can play on. The old-timers in this town would love to see it being utilized again. All we’d have to do is raise money for utilities and cleanup. We can staff the place with volunteers,” Mitch continued. “I think you have something here, Henna.”

  “Not me. This was definitely a collaborative effort,” Henna returned with a nod toward Daisy.

  “It’ll give the kids a place to congregate after school and in the summer,” Mitch mused.

  “If the police department offered a few programs, even better,” Daisy said.

  “What kind of programs could we offer?” Roscoe asked.

  “Oh, you know,” Daisy said. “First aid, babysitting. That sort of thing.”

  “Maybe you’ve got something there, Daisy.”

  Daisy blinked at Roscoe’s words of approval. When Mitch offered a thoughtful shake of his head, she realized that everyone was engaged with the idea. So maybe, just maybe, they were on their way to a solution.

  “Lots of towns offer a junior police academy for teens and preteens,” Daisy continued, buoyed by the interest. “They do cleanup and food drives and other community service activities. It has the added benefit of changing kids’ perception of law enforcement, as well.”

  “Daisy, that’s really a great idea,” Henna said.

  Mitch nodded. “I like it.”

  Her gaze spanned the room and the eager faces, encouraging her to continue.

  “The thing about a community center is it serves all age groups,” she began. “Women’s groups, senior citizens, small business. We start by securing a building, and then this will be an ongoing initiative.”

  “The mayor will be on board,” Mitch said. “Next year is an election year. We get it rolling, and he can take credit. All we have to do is get his approval to use the building and appoint a citizen committee to oversee the project.”

  “Will the local businesses step up?” Daisy asked.

  “Eagle Donuts will,” Henna said. “I’m certain the other business owners in town will follow suit. It’s good for business. This will bring our rural community to town beyond tourist season.”

  “You’re right, Henna. Just remember to delegate. We want to involve as many people in the community as possible,” Mitch said.

  “You got it, Chief. I can tell you that this is the most interesting challenge I’ve had on the job since I started here.” Henna clapped her hands together. “I’ve always wanted to give back to Rebel in a way that will make a difference. This is just that opportunity.”

  “How do we raise the funds to get this off the ground?” Daisy asked. Though she was thrilled with everyone’s response, she didn’t dare get her hopes up until all the details were ironed out.

  “Car wash?” Roscoe suggested.

  “That can work,” Henna said. “I’m sure the high school kids will get behind that.”

  “I’d love to organize a bake sale,” Daisy said.

  “Are you sure?” Henna asked. “You’re already teaching classes.”

  “I’ll take your lead and delegate,” Daisy said. “I’m thinking Luna Diaz and my grandmother.” That combination was a guarantee of success.

  “I’ll help with a bake sale,” Roscoe said.

  “Roscoe, that is so sweet of you,” Henna said.

  “Nah, don’t be giving me too much credit. I follow the food.”

  “How can I get Rebel Ranch involved?” Mitch asked. “And when I say Rebel Ranch, I mean my brother.”

  “Would Reece consider an event at the ranch?” Henna asked.

  “Sure,” Mitch said. “Reece is the social butterfly in the family.”

  Daisy smiled at the remark. Having met his brother, she had to agree.

  “You know, when the church needed a new roof, they held a fancy per plate party.” Roscoe glanced at everyone. “I’m just saying.”

  “Dinner and dancing and Luna’s food,” Henna said.

  When the department admin looked at Mitch, he held up his hands. “I said I’d ask Reece, but I’m not the person you want handling dinner and dancing.”

  “Fine. I’ll coordinate with Reece.”

  “And I’ll talk to the mayor,” Mitch said. “Are we set?” he asked Henna.

  “Yes. I’ll work up a business plan to use the old library building and officially draw up everyone’s assignments.” She turned to Daisy. “That funding is ours.”

  Daisy wanted to believe her. Either way, she couldn’t discount the fact that this was her second week on the job, and despite the looming budget issues she’d never felt so part of a community. She only prayed that today’s brainstorming meeting hadn’t lulled her into a false sense of hope. Despite Henna’s encouraging words, there was no guarantee she’d be here at the end of summer.

  Mitch turned and headed into his office. “I’ll call the mayor’s office now before the morning gets old.”

  The desk phone rang, and Henna reached for it. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. We’ll put out a BOLO immediately. Yes. ma’am. We’ll keep you posted.”

  She hung up the phone and turned to the officers. “The cherub is missing. Summer has officially begun.”

  “Yeah, howdy,” Roscoe said with a punch of his fist into the air. “How about we offer a reward this year? Maybe a dozen Eagle maple bars to the first officer to spot the cherub.”

  “I can do that,” Henna said with a grin.

  “What’s going on?” Daisy asked. Just when she thought she was beginning to fit in, she realized that the department had a backstory she was clueless about.

  “The cherub is missing from one of our senior citizens’ front yard.” Roscoe rinsed out his coffee cup and placed it on the counter.

  Daisy blinked, searching both Henna’s and Roscoe’s face for the punchline. “The what?”

  “Cherub,” Roscoe said. “It’s a statue of a chubby, naked—”

  “I know what a cherub is. Why would someone steal a cherub statue?”

  “This is summer in Rebel,” Roscoe said. “The town is full of kids with nothing else to do but make my hair gray.”

  Daisy assessed his shiny scalp.

  “That’s a saying, missy.”

  “They stole a cherub.” Daisy assessed her fellow officers once again. Sure, the crime stats in Rebel were much lower than in Denver, but this bordered on laughable. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not kidding. It’s happened every single summer for as long as I can remember,” Henna said. “The cherub going missing signifies the official start of summer.”

  Roscoe grabbed the keys to the patrol vehicle off the wall. “We take a report from the vic, and then we wait for the stolen property to show up.”

  Daisy downed her coffee and grabbed her ball cap. “You know it’s going to show up? How?”

  “Same story every year,” Roscoe said.

  “Another reason why we need a community center,” Henna called after them. “The Rebel Police Department could use some good publicity instead of this cherub business that goes on every year.”

  “So we’re going to spend the next eight hours looking for the statue?” Daisy followed him out the door to the patrol vehicle.

  “Naw. That’s a waste of time. It’ll show up in a few day...or weeks. They like to torment us.”

  She opened the passenger door of the Crown Vic. “So you never find out who the culprit is?”

  “Nope and I’m not expending
any energy trying to figure it out, so don’t get any ideas.”

  “Why not investigate? That is our job, Roscoe.”

  “Not worth the time. They’d only get off with a warning anyhow.”

  “You’re telling me Mitch is okay with this?”

  “Mitch’s little brothers were the instigators that started this ten or so years ago. The whole thing puts him in a bad mood.”

  Daisy released a chuckle. “I get that it might be embarrassing, given Mitch’s family history, but come on. A crime has been committed. We are the enforcers of the law, correct?”

  “I’m telling you, that’s a lousy idea. If we stir things up, the chief will be real unhappy. Have you ever seen Mitch Rainbolt unhappy? Trust me, you don’t want to.”

  Daisy shook her head while considering Roscoe’s words. She didn’t know Mitch very well, that much was true. Still, the idea of letting the prankster go without even a stern warning didn’t set with her either. She’d vowed to uphold the law, not look the other way.

  She stared out the window as Roscoe pointed the vehicle down Main Street. Poking the bear who was trying to save her job might not be in her best interest. This was definitely a moral dilemma to which she’d have to give some thought and prayer. Shooting herself in the foot was never a good plan.

  Chapter Five

  He should have called first. Mitch drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his pickup truck. Maybe she’d believe he was “just in the neighborhood.” Which would be the truth, if his neighborhood was ten miles closer and he was on duty. Despite the fact that it was seven o’clock on a Friday night, he had good news and the first person he wanted to share it with was Daisy, because she deserved that much.

  Was it to assuage his guilty conscience? Or because he wanted to relieve a little of the stress on her shoulders? Then again, maybe he just wanted to be the one to tell her something that would make her smile. All of the above, if he was honest with himself.

  Mitch stepped out of the truck and glanced around. The minivan was parked in the drive, but it was quiet, with only the sound of a lonely cicada calling.

  He strode up the gravel drive and turned the corner toward the back of the house, where a ladder was propped against the clapboard. Daisy stood on the very top platform of a weathered wooden ladder.