Carol Ericson - Single Father Sheriff

The room tilted and Sheriff Sloane’s handsome face blurred at the edges. The pink hair ribbon that she’d found in the drawer of the cabinet burned a hole in her pocket where she’d stuffed it.

What did this mean? Who had put the ribbon in the drawer? What was the significance of the ribbon left at the scene of the kidnapping?

She swallowed. “A dinosaur?”

“You didn’t know that, did you?” He reached over and took the glass from the counter. “When Stevie Carson was kidnapped, his parents insisted that one of his dinosaurs from his collection was missing. When Harrison Keaton was taken from his bedroom, the same kind of dinosaur as Stevie’s was on the floor.”

“The boy’s parents confirmed the dinosaur didn’t belong to him...to Harrison?” She twisted her fingers in front of her.

He gulped down half of the water. “No. That’s why the FBI isn’t looking at this angle. Harrison’s parents can’t say whether the dinosaur belongs to him or not.”

“And the p-pink ribbon?”

“Same thing. The ribbon was on the little girl’s dresser. Cheri Douglas wears ribbons. She likes pink.”

Kendall eked out a tiny breath. Sounded like a coincidence to her. Lots of little boys played with plastic dinosaurs. Lots of little girls wore ribbons, especially pink ones, in their hair. Sheriff Sloane was grasping at straws, perhaps trying to stay relevant as the FBI moved into Timberline and took over the investigation.

She hooked her thumb in the front pocket of her jeans, the ribbon tickling the end of her finger. “Your theory is a stretch.”

“Could be.” He downed the rest of the water. “I’ll let you get back to work, Kendall. If anything comes to you while you’re still in town, give me a call.”

He plucked a white business card from the front pocket of his khaki shirt and held it out between two fingers.

Taking it from him, she glanced at the embossed letters before shoving it in her back pocket. “I’ll do that.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the ribbon or dinosaur to anyone else—just in case they mean something.”

“My lips are sealed. As a therapist, I’m good at keeping secrets. It’s part of my job description.”

“I figured you were, or I wouldn’t have told you. I think you’re probably very good at keeping secrets.” He jerked his thumb toward the living room. “I’m gonna head on out.”

She followed him into the other room and then scooted past him to open the front door. “It was nice meeting you, Sheriff Sloane—Coop. I sure hope you can help those families, and I wish I could do more.”

“I appreciate your time, Kendall. I’ll probably be seeing you around before you leave.” He stopped on the porch and did a half turn. “Watch out for those...spiders.”

She squinted through the heavy mesh of the screen door at the sheriff as he climbed into his SUV. He beeped his horn once as he backed down the drive.

He hadn’t bought her story about the spider. She did hate the creepy crawlies, but that mad flight from the house would’ve been over-the-top even for her.

Shutting the door, she dug into her pocket, the ribbon twining around her fingers. She pulled it free and dangled it in front of herself.

The soft pink had a slight sheen to it that caught the lamplight. It couldn’t be the same one yanked from her pigtail that night or even its companion. A twenty-five-year-old ribbon would be faded and frayed, not buoyantly dancing from her fingertips.

She dropped it on top of the cabinet and shuffled through the drawer where she’d found it. Nothing else jumped out at her, not even a spider.

Although the ribbon had spooked her, there was probably a good, reasonable explanation for its presence in the drawer—not that she could think of one now.

She grabbed another handful of papers and shoved them into the plastic garbage bag. The sooner she got Aunt Cass’s place ready, the sooner she could get out of this soggy hellhole.

And the sooner she could escape the tragedies of Harrison and Cheri. Damn Sheriff Sloane for naming them and making them human—a boy who liked dinosaurs and a girl who liked pink hair ribbons.

And damn Sheriff Sloane for peeling back her facade so easily. He’d just given her another reason to run back to Phoenix.

A man like that spelled trouble.

* * *

A FEW HOURS LATER, Kendall scrubbed the grit and dust from her skin under the spray of a warm shower—her first since arriving in Timberline because she’d forgotten to contact the gas company until she got here. If she’d known she would be having a meet and greet with the hunky sheriff in town, she would’ve gotten on that sooner.

She’d been dreading the social engagement tonight but after finding that ribbon and answering the sheriff’s prying questions, she was glad for the distraction.

Melissa Rhodes, a friend of hers from high school, had invited her over for a dinner party. Even if she didn’t plan to stay in Timberline longer than she had to, she’d use the time to catch up with some old friends—the few that still remained.

The dinnertime conversation had better not revolve around the current kidnappings or she’d have to cut the evening short.

She stepped into a pair of skinny jeans and pulled some socks over the denim and finished off with knee-high boots. Topped with a sweater, the outfit pretty much defined the casual look for the Washington peninsula.

Her flip-flops and summer skirts called to her, but she hadn’t even packed them for this cold climate.

She braided her long hair over one shoulder, brushed on a little makeup, and then yanked a wool shawl off the hook by the door.

Crossing her arms, she faced the living room and took a deep breath without worrying about choking on the dust for the first time since she’d arrived. After Sheriff Sloane had left, she’d gotten down and dirty with a rag and a can of furniture polish. She even took a vacuum to the drapes at the windows.

Rebecca, her Realtor, would be thrilled with the progress.

After locking up, she slid into her aunt’s old truck and trundled down the drive to the main road. The lush forest hugged the asphalt on either side, the leaves still dripping moisture from the rain shower an hour ago.

The brakes on the truck had seen better days, and Kendall mentally added the sale of the vehicle to her list of to-do items. There had to be some local kids who wanted to practice their auto shop skills on an old beater.

She drove the few miles on slick roads and pulled behind a line of cars already parked on the street in front of Melissa’s house—Melissa and Daryl’s house. Daryl had come to Timberline almost two years ago to take a job with Evergreen Software and had fallen for a local girl. Melissa had never left Timberline since she’d had to take care of her mom who’d had Parkinson’s disease. She’d found her prince charming anyway, in the form of a software engineer.

As she ground the gear shift into Park, Kendall winced. Anyone interested in this truck had better be a good mechanic.

She jumped from the truck and wrapped her shawl around her body as she headed up the pathway to the house. Warm lights shimmered from the windows and smoke puffed from the chimney.

She knocked on the door, tucking the bottle of cabernet under one arm.

A man—presumably Daryl—opened the front door and broke into an immediate smile. “You must be Kendall.”

“I am.” She stuck out her hand. “And you must be Daryl.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her over the threshold. “Honey, Kendall’s here.”

Kendall’s gaze shifted over his shoulder to the living room, and her fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle as several pairs of eyes focused on her. The few friends Melissa had mentioned looked like a full-scale party, and it seemed like she’d just interrupted their conversation.