The Cottage on the Corner by Shirlee McCoy Page B

Where’s your coat, Zuzu?” Zim asked.
    â€œThere,” Zuzu pointed to the egg-stained afghan.
    Zim met Charlotte’s eyes, and she shrugged. “Max must have forgotten she needed one.”
    â€œHumph!” Zim responded, yanking the blanket off the ground and tossing it around Zuzu’s shoulders. “Saw a car seat in the living room. I’ll grab it on the way out.”
    â€œHumph!” the little girl replied, smiling at Charlotte over Zim’s shoulder.
    Obviously, Zim wasn’t the best influence on an impressionable little girl. Oh, well. Max should have thought of that before he’d pawned her off on Charlotte.
    â€œNo,” she muttered one more time for good measure as she grabbed the baked goods and followed them out to the station wagon.

Chapter Four
    Max avoided the office for as long as he could.
    First he patrolled the rural routes just outside of town. Then he made a trip to the local elementary and middle school to check for vandals and loiterers. He didn’t find any. He stopped for a cup of coffee and a doughnut at the local coffee shop and carried them into Riley Park. The sun had crested the mountains and the town was waking up. A few people waved as he walked the path around Riley Pond and looked for trouble that he knew he wouldn’t find.
    Apple Valley was a quiet town filled with quiet people.
    Most of them got along. Those who didn’t pretended to.
    Sure there was crime. By and large, though, it was petty stuff. Missing livestock from the farms at the edge of town. Vandalism by kids with too much time on their hands and too little brain in their heads. There were a few thefts every year. One or two assault and battery charges. Nothing to write home about and nothing to keep him out on patrol for eight hours straight.
    Sixteen.
    He was working a double.
    Too bad he couldn’t find a few cases to pursue and didn’t have a few criminals to track down. He’d have been happy to spend the remainder of his shift on patrol and out of the office. In a town the size of Apple Valley, there was no reason for it, though. Besides, it was cold in eastern Washington, the late-November air sharp edged and bitter. He’d grabbed his coat on the way out the door, but he’d forgotten gloves.
    Had he put Zuzu’s coat on?
    Damn if he could remember doing it. She’d been fighting him tooth and nail by the time he’d carried her from the apartment. He’d grabbed her and a blanket, and . . .
    No coat.
    â€œDamn it,” he muttered, and an old lady walking her chubby mutt frowned.
    â€œLanguage,” she said as she and her dog waddled past.
    Yeah. Right. Language. He was on duty, wearing his uniform and badge, carrying a firearm, and representing the sheriff’s office.
    Otherwise, he might have let loose with a few other choice words.
    Charlotte probably thought he was an idiot, bringing a little girl outside in pajamas and a blanket. He thought he was an idiot. Nothing he could do about it now. He’d pick the coat up on the way back to Charlotte’s.
    He walked out of the park and crossed Main Street. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t avoid it any longer. There was paperwork to do, a few phone calls to make. He had to go into the office.
    The one-story brick building that housed the sheriff’s department loomed ahead. He braced himself for what he knew would come.
    Emma Bailey sat at the reception desk, her light brown hair pulled into a neat ponytail, her police uniform hugging slender curves. She had a sweet pretty face and a cutting tongue. People who’d known her while she was growing up said that the first was from her deceased mother and the second from her father, a mean drunk who’d spent more time in the bottle than he had in his home.
    Max had never had reason to question the gossip.
    As far as he could tell, Emma was tough as nails. She worked as dispatcher and planned to attend law school