shirt.
“Well,” she said, mortified.
“Looks like you got a little on you,” he said, and winked. Winked.
She heard a sound that she knew was Tom stifling a laugh and she contemplated many punishments for him also. “Well, hi there! I wondered when I’d run into you. Welcome back.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to—”
“Oh nuts,” she said, reaching for the pager attached to her belt. She pressed a button on it which lit up the last number phoned in. But he wouldn’t know that, right? “I’m sorry, Chris. We’re going to have to continue this later.” She reached out to shake his hand. “Good to see you, though.” Then to Tom, “I’ll talk to you about that other matter tomorrow,” she said. She grabbed her plate and headed to the counter where George met her with a cardboard to-go box; he was a very well-trained café owner. She dropped her hamburger in and zipped out the door.
Five minutes later she was again at her desk, this time finishing her dinner, when she looked up to see Tom leaning in the door frame. Her mouth was full, but at least the food was all in her mouth. She chewed, swallowed and lifted the napkin to her lips to blot them. All the while Tom just watched, a slight curve to his lips. He was so damn patient! And his quiet appraisal seemed accusatory.
“Well, I didn’t want to talk to him. And definitely not right after I’d spilled my dinner on my shirt, okay?”
“You’re not a good liar,” he said. “He knows you bolted.”
“He does not! He thinks I bolted, but he’ll never be sure.”
“Eventually, you’ll have to talk to him, because he’s going to be living here now. And he’s been asking if you’re seeing anyone.”
She seethed. What nerve! Two angry red patches grew on her cheeks. “Did you see what he did? He winked at me!”
“He’ll learn,” Tom said. But what he thought was, This is going to be good!
Five
P art of Tom’s routine was cruising Grace Valley, both the town and the outlying rural community. In town, a mere ten blocks held one hundred small homes and a half dozen businesses, including the police department and the clinic. Grace Valley was mostly rural and didn’t even have its own grocery store. The schools were located west of town, and the high school was shared with the town of Rockport. Beyond the town, Tom had to be familiar with all the back roads, the dirt paths, the abandoned roads from the logging and mining days, the trails between farms, the cow and horse paths. He regularly inventoried the outbuildings on farms, abandoned storage sheds on the edges of property as well as those in use. If he ever had the need to chase someone, he should know where they might find a route away from him and where they might hide.
Tourism was on the rise in all of northern California. People came to hunt, fish, camp and just enjoy thebeauty. They had been spared the insult of big resorts, but quaint bed-and-breakfasts had sprung up all over the place. That meant a lot of the cars, trucks and campers on the roads did not belong to locals. It was hard enough to take care of a town as spread out as Grace Valley, but with strangers continually passing through, it increased the load tenfold. The police department was still just three men—Tom and deputies Ricky and Lee.
Tom thought it wise to be a visible presence, and his two young deputies also toured the roads with regularity, especially the roads that connected major thoroughfares and highways to the town. To strangers, it might look as if there were a lot more than three of them.
The time Tom spent at the café was more for the benefit of contact with the people than for the food, though he thought George Fuller’s cooking at least passable. Tom liked to take his meals at home whenever possible, and on his way to and from he would take different routes so he could have a look around. He covered a lot of territory just getting himself fed every day.
On this particular day he came across a
“Well,” she said, mortified.
“Looks like you got a little on you,” he said, and winked. Winked.
She heard a sound that she knew was Tom stifling a laugh and she contemplated many punishments for him also. “Well, hi there! I wondered when I’d run into you. Welcome back.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to—”
“Oh nuts,” she said, reaching for the pager attached to her belt. She pressed a button on it which lit up the last number phoned in. But he wouldn’t know that, right? “I’m sorry, Chris. We’re going to have to continue this later.” She reached out to shake his hand. “Good to see you, though.” Then to Tom, “I’ll talk to you about that other matter tomorrow,” she said. She grabbed her plate and headed to the counter where George met her with a cardboard to-go box; he was a very well-trained café owner. She dropped her hamburger in and zipped out the door.
Five minutes later she was again at her desk, this time finishing her dinner, when she looked up to see Tom leaning in the door frame. Her mouth was full, but at least the food was all in her mouth. She chewed, swallowed and lifted the napkin to her lips to blot them. All the while Tom just watched, a slight curve to his lips. He was so damn patient! And his quiet appraisal seemed accusatory.
“Well, I didn’t want to talk to him. And definitely not right after I’d spilled my dinner on my shirt, okay?”
“You’re not a good liar,” he said. “He knows you bolted.”
“He does not! He thinks I bolted, but he’ll never be sure.”
“Eventually, you’ll have to talk to him, because he’s going to be living here now. And he’s been asking if you’re seeing anyone.”
She seethed. What nerve! Two angry red patches grew on her cheeks. “Did you see what he did? He winked at me!”
“He’ll learn,” Tom said. But what he thought was, This is going to be good!
Five
P art of Tom’s routine was cruising Grace Valley, both the town and the outlying rural community. In town, a mere ten blocks held one hundred small homes and a half dozen businesses, including the police department and the clinic. Grace Valley was mostly rural and didn’t even have its own grocery store. The schools were located west of town, and the high school was shared with the town of Rockport. Beyond the town, Tom had to be familiar with all the back roads, the dirt paths, the abandoned roads from the logging and mining days, the trails between farms, the cow and horse paths. He regularly inventoried the outbuildings on farms, abandoned storage sheds on the edges of property as well as those in use. If he ever had the need to chase someone, he should know where they might find a route away from him and where they might hide.
Tourism was on the rise in all of northern California. People came to hunt, fish, camp and just enjoy thebeauty. They had been spared the insult of big resorts, but quaint bed-and-breakfasts had sprung up all over the place. That meant a lot of the cars, trucks and campers on the roads did not belong to locals. It was hard enough to take care of a town as spread out as Grace Valley, but with strangers continually passing through, it increased the load tenfold. The police department was still just three men—Tom and deputies Ricky and Lee.
Tom thought it wise to be a visible presence, and his two young deputies also toured the roads with regularity, especially the roads that connected major thoroughfares and highways to the town. To strangers, it might look as if there were a lot more than three of them.
The time Tom spent at the café was more for the benefit of contact with the people than for the food, though he thought George Fuller’s cooking at least passable. Tom liked to take his meals at home whenever possible, and on his way to and from he would take different routes so he could have a look around. He covered a lot of territory just getting himself fed every day.
On this particular day he came across a
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