Bluff—exploded in quick succession at Claire’s feet. A little girl laughed and shot off on swift bare feet, jostling tourists out of her way. Thinking that she’d be lucky to get through this day without murdering some firecracker-crazy kid, Claire went into the cafe and discovered she would have to wait to even get a seat at the counter.
Once she found a space, she ate her lunch with patient determination, forcing herself to smile and wave greetings whenever she saw someone she knew. Claire was just polishing off the last of her bacon-and-tomato sandwich when Sheriff Dan Brawley slid his ample bulk onto the stool next to hers.
“ Hey, Short Stuff. Where’s my smile?” The sheriff had always called her Short Stuff. He and her father had been close friends. When Claire was a child, Sheriff Dan and his wife, Ardette, often came over for Sunday dinner at the Snows’ house. “Hey, Short Stuff!” Sheriff Dan would shout, and then he’d pick Claire up and toss her, giggling, toward the ceiling. Since then, Claire had grown to an above-average height, but Dan Brawley had never relinquished his pet name for her.
Claire pasted on a smile for him. “Hi, Sheriff Dan.” She looked into his crinkly blue eyes. He’d been the sheriff for as long as Claire could remember. He was levelheaded and kind, and yet everyone in town knew that he could be tough when he had to be. Every four years, they voted him back in like clockwork.
Seeing him made her think of last night, when Alan Henson had attacked her and she’d considered calling her old family friend in his professional capacity.
“ Claire?” the sheriff was asking, “are you okay?”
She nodded. “Fine.” She realized she must have looked very strange right then, or Sheriff Brawley would never have called her by her real name. Claire shrugged, thinking it was no wonder if she looked strange. The past twenty-four hours had been nothing short of grueling, as far as she was concerned. “Just having...one of those days, that’s all,” she told him feebly. She glanced at the big clock on the wall.
It was three minutes to twelve. She’d told Henson to be out by noon—and then forgotten all about him once she’d seen the results of the pregnancy test. She should get back. If he hadn’t checked out by now, she was going to have to deal with him.
She put her money on the counter and signaled to Mandy, who gave her a nod. “Gotta go,” she told the sheriff. “See ya.”
“ Take care, Short Stuff.”
“ You bet.”
Back at the motel, Claire took over from Amelia and asked if Alan Henson had checked out during the past hour.
Amelia, eighteen years old and under strict instructions not to chew bubble gum while working the desk, now unwrapped a piece. “Uh-uh.” She stuck the gum in her mouth. “Was he supposed to?”
“ Yes.” Claire picked up the desk phone and punched Henson’s extension. It began to ring. Amelia was already turning for the door, on her way to begin cleaning the rooms. “Amelia?”
Chomping Bazooka, Amelia looked back. “Yeah?”
Claire put the mouthpiece below her chin and asked, “Could you wait? Just a minute?”
“ Sure.” Amelia sat down in a straight chair by the door and stared at Claire, her jaw working industriously at the pink wad of gum.
Alan Henson’s phone went on ringing.
Finally, Claire gave up. She put the phone down. “Amelia, would you come with me to Mr. Henson’s bungalow, please?”
Amelia cracked her gum and looked at Claire with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”
Claire explained carefully, “It’s nothing terrible, really. Mr. Henson and I had a ... disagreement last night. I asked him to be out by noon today. Since he’s not, I’ll have to talk to him again. And since he doesn’t seem to be answering the phone, I’m going to have to do it face-to-face. I’d just feel better if someone went with me. However, if you feel uncomfortable about it...”
Amelia didn’t need to hear more. She
Once she found a space, she ate her lunch with patient determination, forcing herself to smile and wave greetings whenever she saw someone she knew. Claire was just polishing off the last of her bacon-and-tomato sandwich when Sheriff Dan Brawley slid his ample bulk onto the stool next to hers.
“ Hey, Short Stuff. Where’s my smile?” The sheriff had always called her Short Stuff. He and her father had been close friends. When Claire was a child, Sheriff Dan and his wife, Ardette, often came over for Sunday dinner at the Snows’ house. “Hey, Short Stuff!” Sheriff Dan would shout, and then he’d pick Claire up and toss her, giggling, toward the ceiling. Since then, Claire had grown to an above-average height, but Dan Brawley had never relinquished his pet name for her.
Claire pasted on a smile for him. “Hi, Sheriff Dan.” She looked into his crinkly blue eyes. He’d been the sheriff for as long as Claire could remember. He was levelheaded and kind, and yet everyone in town knew that he could be tough when he had to be. Every four years, they voted him back in like clockwork.
Seeing him made her think of last night, when Alan Henson had attacked her and she’d considered calling her old family friend in his professional capacity.
“ Claire?” the sheriff was asking, “are you okay?”
She nodded. “Fine.” She realized she must have looked very strange right then, or Sheriff Brawley would never have called her by her real name. Claire shrugged, thinking it was no wonder if she looked strange. The past twenty-four hours had been nothing short of grueling, as far as she was concerned. “Just having...one of those days, that’s all,” she told him feebly. She glanced at the big clock on the wall.
It was three minutes to twelve. She’d told Henson to be out by noon—and then forgotten all about him once she’d seen the results of the pregnancy test. She should get back. If he hadn’t checked out by now, she was going to have to deal with him.
She put her money on the counter and signaled to Mandy, who gave her a nod. “Gotta go,” she told the sheriff. “See ya.”
“ Take care, Short Stuff.”
“ You bet.”
Back at the motel, Claire took over from Amelia and asked if Alan Henson had checked out during the past hour.
Amelia, eighteen years old and under strict instructions not to chew bubble gum while working the desk, now unwrapped a piece. “Uh-uh.” She stuck the gum in her mouth. “Was he supposed to?”
“ Yes.” Claire picked up the desk phone and punched Henson’s extension. It began to ring. Amelia was already turning for the door, on her way to begin cleaning the rooms. “Amelia?”
Chomping Bazooka, Amelia looked back. “Yeah?”
Claire put the mouthpiece below her chin and asked, “Could you wait? Just a minute?”
“ Sure.” Amelia sat down in a straight chair by the door and stared at Claire, her jaw working industriously at the pink wad of gum.
Alan Henson’s phone went on ringing.
Finally, Claire gave up. She put the phone down. “Amelia, would you come with me to Mr. Henson’s bungalow, please?”
Amelia cracked her gum and looked at Claire with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”
Claire explained carefully, “It’s nothing terrible, really. Mr. Henson and I had a ... disagreement last night. I asked him to be out by noon today. Since he’s not, I’ll have to talk to him again. And since he doesn’t seem to be answering the phone, I’m going to have to do it face-to-face. I’d just feel better if someone went with me. However, if you feel uncomfortable about it...”
Amelia didn’t need to hear more. She
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