SIERRA GRABBED HER CHEST. She tried to keep her head even though her heart was hammering. “Come in,” Sierra said. “Let’s talk about this.”
“I’m not going to change my mind,” the older woman said.
The social worker introduced herself. “I’m Jeanne Blasette,” she said. And then she looked down.
“I didn’t say come in and change your mind. Just please come in. Sam’s having a nap but he won’t be asleep long. Please,” Sierra said, holding the door open. She thanked God the house was perfect. She’d thought about leaving the clean laundry on the sofa to fold, all the shoes scattered, dishes in the sink. But she’d had a spurt of energy and knew she’d better make use of it. There were even vacuum cleaner tracks on the carpet.
Molly sauntered into the room, and when she saw they had company, her back end began to wag and wiggle ferociously. “Molly, sit,” Sierra commanded. Molly must have heard the panic in her voice because she instantly sat with no argument.
“Can I get you something to drink? At least a water?”
“I’ll have a water,” Mrs. Jergens said, leaning on that cane with two hands.
“Please, sit down. I’ll get you both water.”
When she got to the kitchen, she grabbed her phone off the counter and texted Connie. Can you come home? They’re taking Sam from us! I’ll text Cal. And to Cal she texted, Help! Sam’s grandmother is here to take him away from us! Can you come?
Then she grabbed two bottled waters from the fridge and two glasses, taking them back to the living room. “I texted my husband, Mrs. Jergens. I’m sure if he’s not out on a call, he’ll be here soon. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I just couldn’t sleep over it,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “I should at least try to take care of Sam. He’s mine, after all.”
“I know it must have been a very difficult decision, but we won’t take him away from you. You’ll be a part of our family.” When she said the word family, she hiccuped a little.
“My cousin’s girl, Sandy—she said she’d stay with me and help with the baby. That should make it easier.”
“But what if you get sick?” Sierra asked. “Or have a particularly bad day and just can’t lift him? Or hold him? He’s already a hefty little guy.”
“I know you’re disappointed but I can’t take a chance that I’d have terrible regrets! I had to make a decision before the adoption is final. Once it’s final... You wouldn’t want me to wait until then. Then we’d have to go to court and I don’t know that I’d do so well, with the arthritis and all.”
“Mrs. Jergens, you did a very brave thing, letting us apply to adopt him. I know you wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t suffering from medical issues. You wouldn’t have had to, I know that. But where will you be in five years? I don’t know too much about rheumatoid arthritis—is it likely you can get stronger? Or weaker? Will Sam have to be given up then because of health reasons?”
“Well, there’s the thing. If Sandy works out, maybe Sam will stay in the family!”
“Do you have a lot of confidence of that?” Sierra asked nervously. “How old is Sandy?”
“She’s nineteen,” Mrs. Jergens said. “My daughter was twenty!”
“Tell me about Sandy,” Sierra asked. “Please?”
“My cousin’s daughter,” Mrs. Jergens said. “I’ve known her since she was born.”
“But I thought you didn’t have much contact with your extended family,” Sierra said. “You said there were cousins, but they lived far away and you hadn’t had much contact.”
“Sandy’s people live in Nashville. She’s looking for a chance to get away, make something of herself, get out of Tennessee. She’ll like it here.”
“But what will happen in a year or two years when Sandy doesn’t want to be a babysitter and caregiver? What will you do? At two, Sam is still going to need so much tending.” Sierra turned her watering eyes toward the social worker. “Ms. Blasette? Have you talked with Mrs. Jergens about all the possibilities?”
Jeanne Blasette sat forward on the sofa. “We’ve talked at length. She wants to try to raise Sam. She wants to honor the memory of her daughter. I’ve suggested she leave Sam in foster care in that case. You both could agree not to finalize the adoption, her cousin’s daughter could come and help around the house, you could bring Sam to her for visits and if all is well and it looks like it could work out with her cousin’s daughter, then she could claim her grandson permanently.”
“Yes,” Sierra said. “Leave things as they are awhile longer, let’s see how—”
“But that’s not what I want,” Mrs. Jergens said. “I spent about five hours on the phone with Sandy and her mother. We’re all straight on what we’ll need. If I have a baby to tend, my grandson, there will be added disability to help with the cost of having another member of the household. We’ve been working this out for a week. She’s getting to my house today. She just called from Colorado Springs and said she’s almost here.”
“Please think this over,” Sierra begged. “I’m afraid that even with help, Sam could be too much for you. He’s a lot of baby. He’s the best baby in the world, really, but even the best baby—”
“I’ve made plans,” the woman said.
“Do you have furniture and supplies for him?” Sierra asked.
“I’d like to have back what I gave you,” she said. “My neighbor loaned a crib. Jeanne brought a car seat for him. We’ll need formula and—”
Sierra shot a glance at Jeanne Blasette. “Why didn’t you call me and warn me this was going to happen?”
“We were talking about it, trying to work out the details, and then Mrs. Jergens decided she wanted to pick him up today. She didn’t ask me to come along but I didn’t want you to have questions and not be here to answer them. I had to move around some appointments but I wanted to be here for this. I know the shock is difficult. I wish I could say this sort of thing never happens, but...”
“It happens all the time,” Mrs. Jergens said. “My own kid was in foster care for a couple of years way back when...I had some money problems. I got it straightened out and got her back...”
“Oh dear God,” Sierra said.
“You’ll need a little time to put together a bag for him,” Ms. Blasette said. “I brought a gym duffel for you to use if you don’t have one.”
“We’re going to wait until my husband and brother get here,” Sierra said.
“Why?” Mrs. Jergens said.
“My husband loves his son, ma’am. I’m not letting him leave this house without Connie here. And my brother is my lawyer. Hopefully he’s on his way. Let me check my phone.” Sierra went to the kitchen and picked up her phone. “Yes, they’re both coming.”
“Go get him right now,” Mrs. Jergens demanded. “Grab some diapers and clothes. My neighbor can help me with the rest. They have a teenager who drives—he can come back here and pick up things. I’m not waiting around. I know the law, I know my rights.”
“He’s asleep,” Sierra said. The woman was so dispassionate that Sierra became afraid of what she or this cousin might be like if Sam wasn’t easy, wasn’t perfect, if they were tired or inconvenienced. “Please, I beg of you, let’s not end our relationship like this, in one afternoon. Let’s go more slowly. Let me care for Sam, bring him to you for visits, have some trial time to see if you really want to take on a full-time baby.”
“No,” Mrs. Jergens said. “Would you like to pack his things or should I just go get him out of his crib right now?”
“Don’t do that,” she begged. “He’ll be cross if you wake him. Connie will be shattered if you just take him without—”
“Then get him,” she said, giving her cane a stamp on the floor for emphasis.
Sierra jumped. “I’ll get some of his things ready,” she said weakly.
“I’ll help,” Jeanne said, standing to follow Sierra.
When they got to the baby’s room, Sierra turned on the social worker. “My God, you have to know how terrifying this looks! Mrs. Jergens isn’t capable of taking care of a heavy, rambunctious little boy! And this cousin? We don’t know anything about this cousin!”
“I’m going to try to keep an eye on things, but remember, she’s not under the scrutiny of child welfare. She hasn’t done anything wrong and she’s his closest living relative.”
“She hasn’t done anything yet,” Sierra said. “She’s mean! And careless!”
“I’m afraid I’m without options, Mrs. Boyle. She can refuse to complete the adoption process at any time. But I will check on her. On them.”
“This can’t be happening,” Sierra said. “We love him so much. He’s so happy with us.”
“I’m sorry. Let’s put a few things in the duffel for him. Let’s at least make sure he has what he needs.”
Tears rolled down Sierra’s cheeks. “I can’t,” she squeaked.
“Yes, come on. Here we go,” Jeanne said. She opened the duffel on the changing table and filled it with disposable diapers, wipes, onesies, pajamas. She went to the bureau and opened a drawer to reveal a full complement of little outfits. “Can you tell me which ones came from his grandmother? So we can give them back?”
Sierra felt as though she was wading through quicksand as she took the few steps to the bureau. She picked through the stacks and pulled out a few small items. “He’s grown since he came to us. I don’t think these will even fit him anymore.”
“Can you please part with some clothes that will fit? Shoes? Not for her—for him.”
Some fussing and squirming sounds came from the crib. “This can’t be happening,” Sierra said, lifting Sam into her arms and snuggling him close. “Oh God.”
Sam protested being hugged so tightly and he started to cry.
“Let’s get his things together,” Jeanne said. “How about some formula and baby food? Just enough to get them through a couple of days?”
“I need to change him,” she said, her heart ripped to shreds. “He’s going to be hungry. Please, can I change and feed him? Please?”
The sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard.
“What’s going on here? Sierra! Sierra!” Connie burst into the baby’s room and enfolded Sierra and Sam in his big arms. “What the hell?”
“The adoption isn’t final,” Sierra said, choking on the words. They’re taking him away!”
“Maybe not,” Connie said. “Cal is on his way. He’s calling Mrs. Jergens’s lawyer.”
“Connie, please,” she sobbed. “Please don’t let her take him. Go talk to her, please. Please. She hates me.”
“Did he just wake up?” Connie asked. Sierra nodded against his broad chest. “He’s soaked,” Connie said. “Go ahead and change him. I’ll talk to Mrs. Jergens.”
By the time Connie was back in the living room, Sierra heard her brother’s voice, as well, both of them pleading rational arguments, trying to change her mind, dissuade her from taking the little boy.
“Sierra, do I have to take the baby?” Jeanne asked. “Shall I change him and make him a bottle? Are you too upset to—”
“I’ll do it,” Sierra said. She carried on, changing him, finding some outfits that would fit him and dressing him in one, putting his bitty shoes on his feet, crying the whole time. Her emotions had Sam fretting, whimpering and wiggling around, making it all the harder.
She carried him to the kitchen to find a bottle. Jeanne had followed her, raiding the baby supplies in the kitchen and adding some to her duffel.
“Can we have the rest of this formula?” Jeanne asked. “Cereal and jars of fruit? You don’t seem to have much...”
“Sam eats food I make,” Sierra said. “I just have these jars for those days I don’t have time to make his food for him. He likes mashed bananas and oatmeal. He likes to pick Cheerios off his tray. I cook his vegetables and smash them with a fork. He loves potatoes, loves smashed sweet potatoes. I make applesauce,” she said, ending with a sob.
A short distance away Connie and Cal continued to argue with Mrs. Jergens, pleading with her to give the Boyles a few days to prepare, asking Mrs. Jergens why she hadn’t contacted her lawyer to tell him she was backing out of the adoption. Sierra gave Sam his bottle while they argued. And then Mrs. Jergens had had enough.
“Do I have to call the police to get my grandson turned over to me?”
The room went suddenly still. Quiet.
“Don’t get crazy,” Cal said. “Is there nothing we can do to make you reconsider? This young family is heartbroken, as you can see.”
“As heartbroken as I was to learn my daughter was dead? I have to do this. I can’t give up my grandson.”
“Will you at least call your lawyer?” Cal asked.
“I’ll call him,” she said. “Not in front of all of you.”
“Okay,” Cal said. “Let’s not make things harder. I want you to hear me on this, Mrs. Jergens. The Boyles are very bonded with your grandson. They want nothing so much as to give him a strong, loving family and to watch him thrive. If you get him home and have a moment of doubt, please don’t hesitate to call on any of us. We’d all be happy to step in and help. We’ve all grown to love the boy.”
Connie went to Sierra. She sat on a kitchen chair in the corner of the room, as far away from them as she could get. “Come on, baby,” he said gently. “Let me have Sam.”
She held him against her shoulder. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, Connie, no.”
“Baby, we don’t have a choice,” he said, gently pulling the little boy into his arms.
“No,” Sierra cried. “Oh God.”
Connie carried the baby to Mrs. Jergens, kissed him on the head and handed him over.
Mrs. Jergens struggled to hold him in one arm and hang on to her cane with the other. For a tense moment it looked like she might drop him, but she managed to get out the door. Jeanne Blasette scrambled along behind, opening the back door of the car for her and helping her get the baby situated. They could hear Sam crying as they took him away, Mrs. Jergens driving her car. When the sound of the car engine could no longer be heard, the house was silent but for the sobbing of Sierra.
Connie went to her and pulled her into his arms.
“Thanks for trying, Cal,” he said.
“I’m not giving up,” Cal said. “I’ve left messages with her lawyer. Maybe he can talk some sense into her.”
“Thanks. We’ll take any help we can get.” He dropped back onto the couch, holding Sierra on his lap. “I’ll stay home the rest of the shift. I just have to call my captain and tell him. He’ll understand.”
“What can I do for you right now?” Cal asked. “Can I get some food together? I can call Maggie and ask her for a tranquilizer or something.”
Connie was stroking Sierra’s hair, rocking her. “Nah, Sierra’s pregnant. She won’t take anything now. I’ll take care of her.”
“Pregnant?” Cal said in a whisper.
“An accident, but we’re happy about it,” Connie said. “Okay, we’re not happy about anything right now. It’s safe for you to leave. I can take care of my wife.”
“I’ll keep at it, Connie.”
“Great. Just don’t tell us anything that will get our hopes up only to have him torn away from us again.” He kissed Sierra’s head. “We love him. We want him to be okay.”
“Me, too,” Cal said.
* * *
Sierra cried for hours. In early evening at the urging of Connie she agreed to eat a little canned chicken soup and drink some water for the baby’s sake. “You can’t get dehydrated, it could hurt the baby.”
“I can’t stop crying,” she said.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’m here. Let’s take care of you and the baby. We don’t need any more heartache.” He spooned the soup into her as if she were the baby.
“I’ve gotten a bunch of texts,” he said. “No one wants to get in our space and bother us, they don’t want to call and wake anyone if they might be sleeping, but there are offers of food, company, prayers, anything. Cal told the family—Maggie, Dakota and Sully. My captain told some of the guys. Lisa and Rafe want to offer comfort when you’re up to it. They’re waiting to be told the coast is clear.”
“Do you want company?” she asked. “Because I don’t.”
“I don’t need company,” he said. “I need to take care of what’s left of my family.”
After a few hours and a little food and water, Sierra fell into an exhausted, troubled sleep. She woke in the dark of night and the clock by the bed said it was 2:00 a.m. She heard some fussing and for a split second she thought the baby was back, fussing in his crib. She sat up with a start.
A dim light from the living room illuminated the crack in the bedroom door. She pulled herself out of bed and went toward the sound. She found Connie sitting bent over on the living room chair, his head pushed into a soft toy, muffling his cries. He sat, alone, sobbing his heart out.
She went to him, kneeling at his feet, rubbing a small hand over his back.
Connie raised his head. “We didn’t give him any of his toys.”
“We’ll take some to him,” she said. “Come to bed and let me hold you.”
“I’m okay,” he said, sniffing back his tears, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.
“Neither one of us is okay,” she said. “Come to bed with me. I need to take care of what’s left of my family.”
He stroked her cheek. “You okay?”
“God, not at all,” she said. “But we’re going to hang on to each other and get through this. There isn’t anything they can throw at us that will break us. Because we’re a really powerful team.”
“Lotta tears on this one,” he said.
“Yeah. It might take us a while to get through it.”
* * *
“I can’t imagine what I was thinking, saying I liked being around family, after all,” Dakota said. “My family is falling apart.”
“Some rough times have been had,” Sully said. “How’s my little Sierra getting by?”
“Connie says she cries way too much, but in deference to her pregnancy, she’s eating and resting. And she took some toys to Mrs. Jergens in Fairplay. She said everything looked okay and the cousin was a nice enough girl. Sam was as excited as a puppy to see her and then didn’t want to let her go. The cousin said, ‘Y’all visit any old time.’ Connie said Sierra cried for hours afterward.” Dakota shook his head. “Those poor kids.”
“This Jones family has had some high drama,” Sully said. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“There’s a rumor going around that you’ve had some drama, too. Your girlfriend is out of town and you had yourself a stalker?” Sully chuckled. “That’s pretty interesting stuff.”
“Yeah, there was this woman vandalizing my property,” Dakota said. “She must’ve thought that would make me desire her. It did not. Sid thought that was a perfect time to go to California and do some work for her old boss. She’s been gone a week. I don’t love it, but Sierra is my main concern now.”
“I wish she’d come out here,” Sully said. “You know, Maggie’s mother divorced me and took Maggie away when she was about six. I didn’t see her at all for years and I grieved something terrible. I think that was the right thing for her mother to do—that girl needed better schooling and parenting than she was getting here. But that didn’t make it any easier. I don’t know that I can entirely relate to what she’s going through, but I’d sure like to see her.”
“I’ll tell her that, Sully,” Dakota said. “And for what it’s worth, even with all the drama, I like the connections I’ve made here.”
“Don’t fret too much, son. That girl will come back to you.”
“I hope so.”
“And Sierra is strong. She’ll get through this, but I wish she’d come and see me.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Despite Dakota’s worry and concern over Sierra, Sid was constantly on his mind, as well. He talked to her every evening. She sounded tired but happy. She was putting in long days but she said it was so wonderful to work beside Dr. Faraday again. “He reminds me that I have abilities I shouldn’t take for granted.”
“Is he almost done reminding you of that?” Dakota asked. “Because I miss the hell out of you. And everyone is falling apart back here.”
“And no sign of Neely?”
“Did you expect there to be?” he asked. “She’s a ghost.”
* * *
Neely had been invisible for nine days and she was ready to reemerge. It had been her experience that, given a little time, people didn’t remember things. If they did remember, they doubted themselves if a question was thrown at them. They would begin to think, Oh, maybe that wasn’t exactly what happened. I could be mistaken. She sauntered into the bar and grill, hopped up on her favorite stool and looked around. Not many people present. It was Dakota’s day off and from diligently watching she had learned that he liked to visit the bar early in the afternoon, sometime between lunch and dinner, so he could be mostly alone with the bartender.
She’d gone to a lot of trouble with her appearance today. She always did.
She tapped her finger on the bar, waiting. The last nine days had been dull and she was ready for a little fun. She hadn’t been having much fun. She shopped. She’d done a little shoplifting, simply for the thrill. She’d picked up a couple of guys, but they were so eager and willing it just hadn’t been much of a challenge. She’d had a lot to drink and amused herself with the idea that she’d played this AA crowd with her hard youth and difficult sobriety, so she went to a couple of meetings in Denver, picked up one of her guys there. It took him five minutes to fall in love with her. She was bored out of her skull.
Finally someone came out of the kitchen. He slapped the napkin on the counter. Then he looked at her. They connected eyes.
“Where’s the usual bartender?” Neely asked. “Sid?”
“My sister? She’s away.”
“She’s your sister?”
He lifted a brow. “Something you didn’t know.”
“Well, of course I didn’t know. I don’t spend very much time here!”
“And I’m afraid you won’t be,” Rob said. “We won’t be extending service to you. I’d like you to leave.”
“You can’t do that!” she said.
“Well, look at that. You are completely flabbergasted. The police are looking for you. Maybe you should check in with them to get the full story.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded.
He chuckled. “Oh, man, you are not nearly as smart as everyone thinks, are you? The police department put a video on Facebook and Twitter, looking for this woman who likes to slash tires and pour acid on vehicles. That would be you, correct?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“The local news picked it up. You’re wanted, it seems. I knew exactly who it was but didn’t know your name, just that you’d been in the bar. Looking into it a bit further, turns out you like to vandalize the property of my patrons and my sister. That makes it personal.”
“You’re out of your mind,” she said, pulling her phone out of her purse. “You’re going to be pretty embarrassed...” She started clicking away on her phone. “Why are you just standing there?” she asked hotly.
“I’m so interested to see your expression when you find it. The Facebook post from the police has gone viral.”
“You better be kidding,” she grumbled.
“Just search for ‘Woman pouring acid on Jeep’s hood,’” he suggested with a bland smile.
It took a couple of moments, then she gasped. Her eyes narrowed. Her features suddenly relaxed. “This is contrived. Photoshopped.”
“I doubt it,” he said. “You might want to check in with the police.”
“What for?” she asked. “It’s some kind of hoax. Give me a club soda with a twist of lime. Now.”
He stood there for a second, then he called a kid from the kitchen. “Trace, you know who this is?”
“The woman from the news? Looks like her.”
“Thanks,” Rob said. He turned back to Neely. “No club soda. No lime. No service. You’re not welcome here.”
“And if I don’t leave?” she asked.
“I’ll call the police. They’d be happy for the call.”
She grunted and left.
Neely stomped down the street to the police department. This was outrageous. She would get this straightened out. She walked in. “Where’s the chief?” she demanded of the two people behind the counter.
Stan came out of the back, stirring a cup of coffee. “Well, hello there,” he said. “And how can I help you?”
“You can start by putting up a retraction of this bogus video you have on your Facebook page!”
“Come in, Ms. Benedict,” he said pleasantly. “Have a seat here at my desk. I can see you’re upset.”
“I’m not at all upset,” she said. But when a female police officer opened the little half door at the end of the counter, she entered and went to the chief’s desk. “I’m going to sue you, that’s all. And you’ll not only run a retraction, you’ll pay through the nose.”
“I doubt that,” he said. “Both videos have been verified as authentic. I guess you didn’t notice the camera at the back of the bank building. That one’s a little fuzzy, since you had your head down a lot. But with a little help we got a couple of good close-ups.”
“You’re full of shit,” Neely said.
“And that little cabin that Dakota Jones rents? Well, some strange things have been happening to Dakota’s car and on his property so he worried about something happening to the place while he was away. He has some nice furnishings in there. He had a surveillance camera sitting right up in the corner, right behind a bird’s nest. Convenient.”
“You’re just lying,” she said. “It’s all Photoshopped!”
“From what?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows. “Nah, it’s the real deal. And our sister cities in the valley were kind enough to run the videos, too. Including Aurora. A few of them ran it on their local news. It’s made the rounds. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it sooner.”
She relaxed into her chair. She smirked at him. “If you think you have a case, why aren’t you arresting me?”
The female police officer stood from behind a desk. “Boss?”
“You can go. I know you have things to do, Tippin. Thanks.” He looked back at Neely. “I’m sorry. What was that question? Oh—I got it. Arrest, right. Well, to tell the truth, that took some thought. See, I can charge you with malicious mischief and malicious destruction of property. I think it’s a terrible thing you did. Our judge will think so, too. But the penalty that goes with it,” he said with a shrug. “Just not satisfying enough. So I thought about it and decided I wasn’t going to charge you this time. Instead, I’m going to save these videos in case there are more. I hate the thought there could be more, but I wouldn’t be surprised. It seems to be your pattern. You know—those restraining orders, vandalism, breaking into houses, stalking...” He scratched his head. “I wasn’t too surprised to learn this wasn’t your first brush with the law. Disappointed but not surprised.”
She smiled at him. “I wasn’t even on probation,” she said. “So, pffftt.”
“You were, too,” he said. “So, we’re just watching. Everyone is going to be watching now that they all know what you’re capable of. I did talk to your brother. He said he sympathized with us but there was nothing he could do.”
She growled low in her throat before she could stop herself. She bared her teeth. But she regained control quickly. “If you knew who I was, why ask the public to identify me? That’s going to get you into big trouble.”
“It won’t get me in any trouble. But now that you mention it, I should probably run your picture and say you were found and that no arrest has been made at this time.”
“You. Wouldn’t. Dare,” she ground out. “I have a very good lawyer!”
“I bet he cherishes the day he ran into you,” Stan said. He cackled. “You must be making him rich.”
“You’ll be sorry you tried to ruin my reputation with all these false accusations,” she said.
“Good. Sue me. I need the publicity. And you sure do. People are already looking at you sideways, so if you bring a big fancy lawyer in here to try to do hurt to the people in this town, you’ll get more unpopular real fast.” He got a harsh look on his face. “I don’t want this shit in my town.”
“It wasn’t me,” she said.
“It was. There’s so much evidence it makes me tired. But I don’t feel like putting you through the boring effort of writing a check to make it all go away. I’d just as soon you go away. But in case you’re fool enough to think you can test me on this, bear in mind, we’ll be watching you. Closely. All of us. The Timberlake police, other police, citizens who don’t like that sort of thing, everyone will be watching.”
She got to her feet, her expression serene. “You better make this go away before you’re sued.”
She strode toward the door.
“I’m going to keep track of you,” he said to her back. She stopped suddenly. “But I’ll give you a tip. If you were to leave, I wouldn’t be bothered to track you out of state.” She took two more steps. “You might want to check and see where Officer Tippin put that GPS tracker on your car.”
She stiffened before she could stop herself. She turned around. “He came on to me,” she said angrily.
The chief stood. “No, he didn’t,” he said. “It’s all on the video. Dakota Jones is a decorated war hero. In my town that just fucking trumps lying trust fund babies. You’re done here.”
Neely stormed out of there before she said one more thing. She drove down the main street a little too fast, leaving that shithole town in her dust. She took a slight detour to a rather isolated lookout with some parking. No one was there. She parked and turned off her engine. She got her mirror out of her purse—it was a sterling silver compact mirror. She held it under the wheel wells, front and back bumpers, under the car doors. She groaned in equal parts anger and frustration. Then she eased down on her back and slid under the car with her compact mirror and her phone flashlight, looking for the GPS tracker. While she was under there, she saw the tires of a car pull up behind her car.
Neely wiggled out from under her car and stood face-to-face with Officer Tippin. Officer Tippin, Neely thought, was homely and mannish, so she sneered at her. Tippin was a cow, Neely thought meanly.
“Car trouble, ma’am?” the officer asked.
“No, thank you very much,” she said, brushing off her short satin skirt. “Can you move your car so I can be on my way?”
“Absolutely, ma’am,” she said. And she smiled.
Neely thought she’d sue her also. After she traded in this car.
* * *
Stan sat behind his desk, staring at the computer screen, tired. The door opened and a grinning Officer Tippin stepped in.
“Boss, it was classic. She actually rolled under her car looking for a tracking device.”
Stan grinned but it wasn’t a big grin. “I’d have loved seeing that.”
“You don’t need a tracking device—she’s easy to follow. She’s kind of a ninny.”
“No,” Stan said. “She’s pretty smart. She just has no empathy and very little fear. She’s arrogant and malicious. And she has some tools—looks and brains being primary.” He took a breath. “She’s a psychopath.”