by Grace, Carol
She pictured the look on Brady’s face when she told him she’d met Mr. Right at the diner just as she’d planned. The shocked look in his eyes, the way his mouth would fall open in disbelief. That alone would be worth all the long hours and the aching muscles, she thought gleefully as she took the salad out of the refrigerator and set it in front of him.
“I hope you won’t think I’m forward,” he said, “but I wonder what single people do for fun around here.”
“Fun? Well there’s a dance once a month at the grange. Lots of the wranglers come into town for that.”
“Wranglers. But what about women?”
“Oh, yes, women go, too.”
“You, too?”
“I haven’t gone for quite some time,” she admitted, “but I hear it’s very lively.” So lively that Brady was often called to break up a fight or two.
While the stranger ate his salad, a young couple came in and sat at the end of the counter. Suzy took their orders, went to the kitchen and came back with Kyle’s lunch.
“That was real tasty,” he said, pointing to the empty salad bowl.
Suzy felt as flattered as if she’d made it herself. While she was trying to look modest, she glanced up to see Brady come through the door with a grim expression on his face.
She looked away before their eyes could meet. And willed him to take the booth in the corner, or the table by the kitchen. Anywhere but the counter. But she knew without looking he was heading straight for her and the counter. Just when she’d met the man of her dreams. His timing couldn’t have been worse.
Chapter Nine
Not only did Brady come to the counter, he sat next to Kyle. Talk about sabotage. She wished she could ignore him, but the counter was all hers today. She slapped a menu down in front of him and took her pencil from behind her ear.
“Yes?” she said.
“It’s a good thing they don’t pay you to be friendly,” he said.
“They pay me to take orders and deliver food.”
“Hot roast beef sandwich on French bread.”
She turned on her heel to deliver the order to the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kyle’s surprised reaction to their curt conversation. But she didn’t delay or try to explain. The faster she got Brady’s order, the faster Brady would be out of the diner. He wouldn’t dare linger over his coffee during the busy lunch hour with customers standing behind him waiting for a seat. When she got back she overheard him strike up a conversation with Kyle, the new man in town.
“Where’re you from originally?” Brady asked.
“Who wants to know?” Kyle answered.
“Name’s Brady Wilson.”
“Brady is the sheriff,” Suzy said. “Sheriff, this is Kyle Henderson.”
“Really.” With his head tilted to one side, shaggy hair falling over his forehead, Brady gave Kyle a strangely suspicious look. “Looks a lot like Bart Henly to me.”
“What?” Suzy said. But she had no time to ponder this bizarre situation. As the counter filled up she was handing out menus, taking orders, filling glasses with iced tea, and explaining specials. She could only hear snippets of the conversation between the two men. From what she heard it seemed as though Brady was asking all the questions, and the new man was doing his best to dodge them.
“I’ve got a warrant out for your arrest, Henly.”
“You don’t say,” the stranger said with a careful ease.
“I do say. I’ve got a set of fingerprints that’ll match yours,” Brady said.
Surprised at this accusation, Suzy strained to hear Kyle or Bart’s response, but she couldn’t. Not with a customer asking to change his order from liver and onions to chicken pot pie. In fact, she strained so hard she sloshed gravy on her uniform from a side order of mashed potatoes. She had to keep her mind on her work. When she didn’t it was disastrous. But what was Brady up to anyway? Did he really have evidence to prove this pleasant-looking man was a crook? The next time she got close enough, Brady was closing in, verbally anyway. His voice was low but had a definite threatening tone.
“You want to come with me under your own steam, or will I have to take you in?” he asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Bart said.
Suzy glanced up from the cherry pie she was removing from a pie case to see Bart get to his feet.
“Just hold it, Henly,” Brady said mildly. “You’re wanted in Yolo County for robbing a jewelry store. So come quietly, and nobody will get hurt.”
Suzy’s eyes widened to the size of salad plates. When Brady took out a pair of handcuffs, Kyle, or Bart or whatever his name was, shoved Brady forward onto the counter and ran out of the restaurant. Before he’d even finished his creamed carrots. Brady went after him, leaving half a sandwich on his plate. As the entire diner watched through the window, Brady tackled the man, threw him to the ground, cuffed him and hauled him away.
In a state of total shock, Suzy stood staring at the door. She expected the diner to erupt in pandemonium, but in reality, after an initial increase in the volume of voices, everyone went back to eating their lunches. A few minutes elapsed during which Suzy tried to make sense of what had happened, then normalcy returned. To the rest of the diner, but not to her. With shaking hands she cleared their plates and the two seats were quickly filled.
Her mind was spinning. Was the charming, mild-mannered man really a jewel thief? She’d worked for Brady long enough, she’d hung enough wanted posters on the wall, to know that all criminals didn’t look like criminals. But she’d talked to this man. She’d been considering him as a possible candidate for a husband and father. How could she have been so wrong? When would she ever learn to judge men?
She went through the motions of waiting on customers and clearing the counter, but in her mind she replayed the scene between Brady and Kyle, or Bart Henly, or whatever his name was. Wondering what she should have said, what she could have said to convince Brady that man couldn’t be a thief. He just couldn’t be. He was too nice.
She had a chance to tell Brady this when he came in later to reorder his roast beef sandwich. Most of the customers had left, the ones remaining only glanced up briefly as Brady came in the door.
“You can’t be serious about that guy being a jewel thief,” she said before he’d even sat down.
“Dead serious. Just got the message this morning over the net that he was headed this way. His partner was waiting for him out at the Stewarts’. They specialize in small-town robberies.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Why not?” he asked, taking the same seat he’d vacated before he rushed out a few hours ago.
“Because, because...he was too nice,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
He shook his head. “How would you know?”
“I was talking to him before you came in.”
He frowned. “I know. I saw you through the window.”
“How long were you out there?”
“Long enough to see him come on to you.” Brady’s stomach knotted, remembering how interested in the thief Suzy had appeared to be. How, even in profile, he could see her face was flushed, her lips curved in a smile. “What was so nice about him?” he asked.
“Well, he asked where he could buy his mother some silver jewelry for her birthday.”
“Steal his mother some silver jewelry,” Brady corrected.
“Whatever. It’s the thought that counts. Even if he invented the story, it shows he cares about his mother,” Suzy said defiantly.
Brady knew Suzy, and he knew that she’d never admit she’d made a mistake in character judgment. She was probably afraid he’d tease her about it for years. And he would. He was just getting warmed up when the bell rang from the kitchen indicating his order was ready. Suzy seemed only too happy to take a break and leave him.
“So you believed him,” Brady said when she finally returned with his sandwich. “When he said he was going to give the jewelry to his mother.”
“Who knows?” Brady said. “I know. Because I read the background on him. He’s got priors a mile long. Come back to the office with me and I’ll show you.”
“No, thanks. I’ll take your word for it I have to work.”
“How long?”
“Until five.”
“And then what?”
“And then I’m going home and soak my feet, that’s what. Why?”
“Because I need somebody to bring the dinner over to your friend BarL”
“He’s in jail?”
“What did you think, I’d let him go on his own recognizance?”
“I thought you had somebody else in jail. There’s hardly room for two. You don’t want them suing you for cruel and unusual punishment.”
“He left yesterday, transferred to the county facility. Good timing, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Got plans for the weekend?” he asked.
“My mother’s taking Travis to Reno with her,” Suzy said. “It’s her sister’s birthday.”
“Where does that leave you?”
“That leaves me free to do whatever I want. Take in the flea market out at the old drive-in, rent a video or stay in bed all day reading a novel if I want, why?”
“You ought to go hunting with me.”
“Hunting? I don’t hunt. How can you kill innocent birds or deer or anything?”
“I can’t. Not anymore. I stopped shooting animals with a gun a few years ago. Now I go up in the hills, hunt animals and shoot them with my camera. If I’m lucky enough to find them. It’s an even bigger challenge than shooting them with a gun. And I sleep better at night.
“Yeah,” he continued. “I had everything ready this morning, food, sleeping bags, a cooler, and my buddy backed out. So I thought...” He took a bite of his sandwich, trying to formulate a casual invitation. Trying to make it sound like it didn’t matter if she came or not. But it did. It mattered. Much too much.
“You thought I’d fill in?” she asked indignantly, her hazel eyes blazing. “You ought to know by now that women don’t like being second choice.”
He almost choked on his bread. Her words brought all the recriminations and his wife’s accusations flooding back. I’m second choice. Your job comes first. You don’t love me. “Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you,” he said. “Never mind, forget what I said.”
Suzy gave him a puzzled look, and for a moment he saw some emotion in her eyes he couldn’t define. She was probably thinking he was crazy to drop the subject so fast. But before he could assure her he didn’t need anybody to go with him, that he liked being alone in the high desert with only his camera for company, she went to wait on someone else.
He finished his lunch, left an outrageous tip and marched out of the diner. Somebody from the diner would deliver the prisoner’s food that night, and with any luck, they’d send Suzy. He’d lined up Hal to man the office Saturday and Sunday and that way he could go off and forget about his job for a change. Forget about everything and everybody. Especially Suzy.
It was Suzy who came to the door at precisely five o’clock with a box filled with food. He stood up so fast he jammed his knee into the side of the desk. His heart drummed out a warning. It doesn’t mean anything. She didn’t come to see him. It’s just part of her job. He turned off his computer and took the box out of her arms.
“Here you are,” she said and turned quickly as if she couldn’t wait to get out of there. As if she didn’t remember the times they stood around talking about nothing or everything, forgetting the hour. As if she didn’t miss it as much as he did.
“In a hurry?” he asked, unable to keep the caustic tone out of his voice. “Don’t you want to say hello to your friend out there?” He pointed to the small jail house out of the window. “No, never mind. You go home and soak your feet, watch your video, read your book.”
“Thanks, that’s just what I will do,” she said. But instead of marching out the door, she hesitated. He willed her to turn around. To stop and talk. Just for a minute. He couldn’t believe how much he missed having her around eight hours a day. When did he discover that she’d left a hole in his life he couldn’t fill?
“Ever find that picture?” she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.
“Sony. No.”
“Oh. Well, there’s another box in the car with the drinks in it.”
“I’ll get it.”
When he came back she was standing in front of his desk watching him with a strange look in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said but there were bright pink spots staining her cheeks. Something happened while he was out at the car. He didn’t know what. “I’ll help you carry the stuff back to the jail,” she said.
“So you do want to say hello to Bart,” he said.
“I just want to finish this job and go home and rest,” she said firmly.
Brady strapped his holster to his belt and picked up the box with the food. Suzy followed with the drinks, and they walked out to the small cinderblock building behind the office. Brady shifted the box to his shoulder, unlocked the door, walked down the narrow hall, then unlocked the door to the cell.
“Sheriff,” Bart said pleasantly. “Good to see you. You too, Miss Suzy.”
“Here’s your dinner, Bart,” Brady said, dumping both the boxes on the floor of the small cell..“My deputy will be by tomorrow and Sunday to check on you and bring in your food. On Monday you’ll be transferred.”
“Too bad. I’m just getting used to your jail here.” He tore open a corner of the box and sniffed appreciatively. “Good food, too,” he said, reaching his hand inside. “If I’d known about this, I would have headed for Harmony years ago.”
“Hey,” Brady said. “You eat it all now, you won’t have any left for later. It’s gonna be a long evening.” Brady swung his keys, keeping one hand on his holster, just in case.
“There’s even a piece of lemon meringue pie,” Suzy said, peeking into the other box. Then before she knew what was happening Bart lunged at her and grabbed her around the waist, pinning her to him. He squeezed her so tightly he forced the air out of her lungs. She couldn’t speak. But Bart could.
“Gimme the keys, sheriff,” he said.
Brady fingered the gun.
“See this knife?” Bart said, waving a kitchen knife. Very carefully he traced the blade along Suzy’s tbroat.
“Yeah, I see it,” Brady said in such a flat voice Suzy wondered if he knew that she was in danger of having her throat slit. “Let her go, Bart.”
“As soon as you give me the keys and your gun.”
Brady tossed the keys first and then the gun. The prisoner shoved Suzy so hard she stumbled backward and Brady caught her before she slammed into the wall. Bart walked out the door and padlocked it behind him. He pocketed the keys and the gun and stood there for a moment, looking at them with a smug smile on his handsome face.
“You won’t get away with this,” Brady said.
“No?” he asked. “A silver dollar says I will. Have a nice weekend, you two,” he said. “I will. Oh, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Then, whistling to himself, he went down the hall, let himself out of the jail and disappeared.
There was a long silence inside the cell. Suzy stood there, breathing hard, her back pressed against Brady’s chest. His arms were still wrapped tightly around her, her bottom was cushioned against his manhood, as if he was afraid she’d collapse if he let go. She was afraid of the same thing. She’d never been so scared in her life. So scared she was shaking like the fall leaves outside the jail. Slowly, with his hands on her shoulders, Brady turned Suzy around to face him. “You okay?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.
She nodded, unable to speak. There was a lump in her thro
at the size of a golf ball. He ran his hand gently down the side of her neck. So gently she wanted to cry.
“Sure?”he asked.
“Fine,” she said, finding her voice at last But she wasn’t fine. She’d managed to steady her hands and her voice, but on the inside she was still shaking. She wanted to throw herself back in his arms, to feel warm and safe, but she didn’t dare. Because once she was there, she wouldn’t want to leave. “Just a little scared,” she admitted.
“Nothing to be scared of,” he said.
“Just a man with a knife and a gun.”
“Where’d he get the knife?” Brady asked.
“It must have been inside the bags.”
“Who packed the food?”
“Celia. I thought she knew it was for a prisoner, but maybe...”
“Maybe she thought it was some ordinary citizen’s take-out supper,” Brady said.
“What do we do now?” Suzy asked. For some strange reason, she wasn’t worried. She knew Brady would get them out of there.
“Wait.”
“For how long?”
“Till tomorrow morning. No big deal. It’s Hal’s weekend on duty.”
The thought of spending the night with Brady in the small cell made her feel chills on the outside and a burning heat on the inside. She sank down on the narrow bed and gripped the edge of the thin mattress.
“Why don’t you get us out of here?” she asked.
“How?”
“I don’t know. Yell. Scream. Maybe someone will hear us.”
“Go ahead,” he said. “Be my guest.”
She stood up and screamed. And yelled. The sound bounced off the thick walls and echoed through the small space. She sat back down on the bed, deflated.
“Be my guest,” she repeated with a reluctant smile. “Under the circumstances, that’s funny.”
He shook his head then returned her smile.
“Why are you so calm?” she asked. “Aren’t you mad, aren’t you upset that he tricked you, don’t you feel foolish? I mean you’re the sheriff.”
“Thanks to you. If I’d lost the election, it would be Darryl in this jail with you.”
She gave a little shudder at that awful thought.
