I’m doing my job."
She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she thought up another retort. If she could stand up to Sam Peckenbush’s angry pit bull, she could stand up to Gray, too. "Just because you're the police chief doesn't mean I have to answer every question you ask me."
"I'm not asking as a police chief. I'm asking as a son. Whatever concerns my father, concerns me."
"Does he know this?" Cara made her voice testy even though she admired his stance. She'd spent years caring for her own ailing parents, years believing their problems were her own.
"It doesn't matter if he knows it or not. It's the truth." His gaze met hers, and Cara couldn't look away. For a moment, she couldn't even breath. "Now why do you want to talk to him?"
A booming voice that carried from halfway across the office nearly obliterated Gray's question, breaking the strange spell. She turned and saw a tall, heavyset man walking slowly toward them.
"Gray, my son. I hope I haven't kept you waiting long." He had an abundance of snow-white hair and tinted glasses that partially obscured his face. He was wearing dark pants in a stretchy material that paid more attention to comfort than fashion. Over his long-sleeved white dress shirt was an eye-catching sterling silver bolo tie imprinted with a turquoise stone in a starburst setting. "I know I'm late again, but I got to talkin' to Mamie over at the tackle shop, and I lost track of the time."
He didn't acknowledge Cara until he was a few steps away. His leathery face had been abused by the sun, but when he smiled she saw the resemblance between father and son in the squareness of his jaw and the even whiteness of his teeth. Cara judged him to be in his early seventies.
"Well, well, well. What have we here? I haven't seen you around before. Please tell me you're with Gray. I have this hankering for grandchildren, but I won't get any if this son of mine doesn't get married again soon."
Married again? Not once since they’d met had it occurred to Cara that Gray could be married. Now she wanted to know everything about him, including what had happened to his wife. She forced herself to remain silent. Gray DeBerg already thought she asked too many questions.
"Your hankering for grandchildren is not a good enough reason for me to get married," Gray said dryly. "And the lady is not with me."
"Is it because he’s a police chief?" Bergie asked, disappointment clearly stamped on his face. "Because, I've got to tell you, police work isn't as dangerous here in Secret Sound as it is in other cities. Sure, we have crime, but I can't remember the last time we had a shootout."
"Dad..."
"Mr. DeBerg, I barely know your son," Cara interrupted. "My name is Cara Donnelly, and I’m here to see you."
"Me?" Bergie pointed to his barrel chest. "If you're here to see me, you must have a problem. That's why people come to me. Problems. They all have problems. And they all need help."
"Actually, I don't need help." Cara slanted a look at Gray. If only he'd go away so she could speak freely. "What I need is information.""Information?" Bergie covered what looked like momentary puzzlement with a grin that crinkled his eyes and the deep, well-used creases around his mouth. "You've come to the right place for that. Information is my business. But I'm not discussing anything on an empty stomach. If I don’t get some dinner in me soon, I'm going to raid the vending machine and wreck my diet. Your name's Cara, right. Well, Cara, join us."
She hesitated. Although she wanted an audience with Bergie, she didn't need his too-suspicious son listening in. "That's very kind of you, Mr. DeBerg, but I wouldn't want to intrude."
"First of all, call me Bergie. Secondly, it's nonsense to think you'd be intruding. The more the merrier is my motto."
"Then I'd very much like to have dinner with you." She slanted a skeptical look at Gray. "That is, if your son doesn't mind."
"Of course he doesn't mind," Bergie said. "Gray’s
She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she thought up another retort. If she could stand up to Sam Peckenbush’s angry pit bull, she could stand up to Gray, too. "Just because you're the police chief doesn't mean I have to answer every question you ask me."
"I'm not asking as a police chief. I'm asking as a son. Whatever concerns my father, concerns me."
"Does he know this?" Cara made her voice testy even though she admired his stance. She'd spent years caring for her own ailing parents, years believing their problems were her own.
"It doesn't matter if he knows it or not. It's the truth." His gaze met hers, and Cara couldn't look away. For a moment, she couldn't even breath. "Now why do you want to talk to him?"
A booming voice that carried from halfway across the office nearly obliterated Gray's question, breaking the strange spell. She turned and saw a tall, heavyset man walking slowly toward them.
"Gray, my son. I hope I haven't kept you waiting long." He had an abundance of snow-white hair and tinted glasses that partially obscured his face. He was wearing dark pants in a stretchy material that paid more attention to comfort than fashion. Over his long-sleeved white dress shirt was an eye-catching sterling silver bolo tie imprinted with a turquoise stone in a starburst setting. "I know I'm late again, but I got to talkin' to Mamie over at the tackle shop, and I lost track of the time."
He didn't acknowledge Cara until he was a few steps away. His leathery face had been abused by the sun, but when he smiled she saw the resemblance between father and son in the squareness of his jaw and the even whiteness of his teeth. Cara judged him to be in his early seventies.
"Well, well, well. What have we here? I haven't seen you around before. Please tell me you're with Gray. I have this hankering for grandchildren, but I won't get any if this son of mine doesn't get married again soon."
Married again? Not once since they’d met had it occurred to Cara that Gray could be married. Now she wanted to know everything about him, including what had happened to his wife. She forced herself to remain silent. Gray DeBerg already thought she asked too many questions.
"Your hankering for grandchildren is not a good enough reason for me to get married," Gray said dryly. "And the lady is not with me."
"Is it because he’s a police chief?" Bergie asked, disappointment clearly stamped on his face. "Because, I've got to tell you, police work isn't as dangerous here in Secret Sound as it is in other cities. Sure, we have crime, but I can't remember the last time we had a shootout."
"Dad..."
"Mr. DeBerg, I barely know your son," Cara interrupted. "My name is Cara Donnelly, and I’m here to see you."
"Me?" Bergie pointed to his barrel chest. "If you're here to see me, you must have a problem. That's why people come to me. Problems. They all have problems. And they all need help."
"Actually, I don't need help." Cara slanted a look at Gray. If only he'd go away so she could speak freely. "What I need is information.""Information?" Bergie covered what looked like momentary puzzlement with a grin that crinkled his eyes and the deep, well-used creases around his mouth. "You've come to the right place for that. Information is my business. But I'm not discussing anything on an empty stomach. If I don’t get some dinner in me soon, I'm going to raid the vending machine and wreck my diet. Your name's Cara, right. Well, Cara, join us."
She hesitated. Although she wanted an audience with Bergie, she didn't need his too-suspicious son listening in. "That's very kind of you, Mr. DeBerg, but I wouldn't want to intrude."
"First of all, call me Bergie. Secondly, it's nonsense to think you'd be intruding. The more the merrier is my motto."
"Then I'd very much like to have dinner with you." She slanted a skeptical look at Gray. "That is, if your son doesn't mind."
"Of course he doesn't mind," Bergie said. "Gray’s
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