Jodi Thomas - Lone Heart Pass

Lauren nodded. “That’s it. How about you, Thatcher? At the old age of almost fifteen you’re probably looking for a girlfriend, right? Maybe already have the lucky future Mrs. Jones picked out?”

Leaning on the corner of the desk, he crossed his arms. She was probably talking down to him, like a lot of townsfolk did, but he needed a few answers and she might know enough to help him. “I thought that girl whose dad found the body in the canyon a few days ago wasn’t so bad looking.” He shrugged. “Or she might have been cute if she hadn’t been all wet and shaking like a coyote with his ear shot off.”

“You see a lot of coyotes with their ears shot off?”

“I seen a few.”

Lauren closed her laptop looking as if she didn’t believe him. “The girl with her father that night is named Kristi Norton. Her dad took over as the new high school principal on Monday. He and his wife grew up around here. I think Kristi is your age, so you should have seen her in school.”

“I ain’t been to school lately. That’s why I’m here today. I made the mistake of telling the sheriff that I was too embarrassed to go to school because I didn’t have lunch money. I was thinking he’d loan me some, but instead he offered me a job. If I’d turned it down, he’d know I was lying and there weren’t no telling what he’d do. I swear the past few years I seem to have my own guardian cop and I ain’t sure if he’s from heaven or hell.”

“Tough life, kid,” Lauren said as she went back to filing. “I’m basically here for the same reason. My father doesn’t believe in loaning money, not even to his only daughter. For once, before I get out of college, I’d like to go somewhere for spring break besides Crossroads, Texas. Maybe a beach.”

“What about your mom?” Thatcher moved over to the coffee pot and mixed half coffee with half milk. “Did she run off or something?”

“My folks are divorced. Mom would give me money, but it comes with strings. She’s in that do-I-still-look-like-I’m-in-my-early-thirties stage. If I told her I wanted to go to the Gulf for spring break, she’d probably buy the exact same bathing suit and go with me.”

Thatcher nodded but had no idea what she meant. He wasn’t even sure what she meant by divorce. “My mom has been common-law married four times—all the guy does is move in and she starts calling him her husband. Then, when he moves out, she considers herself common-law divorced. She claims it’s cheaper that way, but I never called a one of them Dad. I figured, judging from my mom’s taste in men, that I’m better off not knowing who the bastard was that fathered me.”

Lauren’s light blue eyes stared at him. “You’ve got to go to school, Thatcher. I think, somewhere beneath all the dirty hair, there just might be a brain.”

No one had ever said that to him. He wanted to tell her that he made two thousand three hundred and fourteen dollars last year selling snakes, and almost eight hundred selling eggs to farms too lazy to bother with chickens.

But he didn’t say anything because one of his mother’s boyfriends told him if he told anyone he was selling snakes or eggs the government would come after him for taxes.

“Lauren, could I ask you a question?”

“If it’s about how to impress Kristi, I’d say start with a haircut, a bath and clean clothes. You’ve already got the brains and that cute smile.”

“No, it’s not that,” Thatcher said as he stored the information away for later. “Could you tell me where the grid is? Mr. Fuller told me once that I lived off it.”

Lauren laughed. “You mean old Mr. Fuller who retired years ago?”

“Yeah. He came in to substitute when Mr. Franks ran off with Miss Smith-Williams back before Thanksgiving.” Thatcher scratched his head. “That was strange. Mr. Franks was old and mean and Miss Smith-Williams always seemed confused. Couldn’t even pick a last name. And, no matter where she was—her class, the hallway or the parking lot—she’d jump when the bell rang. You’d think after teaching high school for twenty years she’d get used to it ringing.”

Lauren giggled. “Wonder where they are now?”

He winked at her. “Probably on a beach where there are no bells to ring or kids for Mr. Franks to yell at. I can see them wearing matching bathing suits and listening to country swing.”

Lauren winked back at him. “You might want to keep that vision to yourself.”

They both laughed.

He leaned over the desk and figured it was time to risk another question. “See that bottom drawer of your dad’s desk?”

“Yes.” She was back to working.

“You have any idea what he keeps in it?”

“Papers, I guess.”

Thatcher knelt down and tugged on the handle. “Then why is it locked?”

Now he had her attention. She swiveled around and also tried the drawer. “I don’t remember him having a locked drawer. He has a safe to keep evidence in. Why would he need a drawer?”

Thatcher shrugged. “Letters from a lover. Weapons. Drugs. Body parts.”

She frowned. “My pop doesn’t have time for lovers. He carries his weapon. Drugs would be locked in the safe and body parts would smell.”

Before he could ask any more questions, the phone on the sheriff’s desk rang.

Lauren answered, nodded a few times and said yes once, then hung up.

Thatcher moved closer.

She’d turned eggshell-white.

“What?” he said.

Lauren stood slowly. “The coroner has the report ready on the man they found dead in the canyon. He’s faxing it over. He said he wants my pop to see it immediately.”

“So call him up and tell him.” Thatcher might not have a cell phone, but everyone else in the world seemed to.

“I can’t. He’s down in the canyon looking for clues. No cell service in that tiny sliver of canyon behind Lone Heart Pass.” Lauren looked worried as the fax machine spit out three sheets of paper. “I have to get this report to him. I know there’s nothing down there, but going to where someone died gives me the creeps.”

Thatcher set his cup in the sink and washed his hands. “Don’t worry about anything, I’m going with you.” He lowered his voice, trying to sound older. “This is official police business and you might need backup.”

“But...”

He moved a few feet, blocking her exit. “The sheriff told you to keep an eye on me, didn’t he?” Thatcher saw the truth in her eyes before she had time to think of a lie. “Well, the only way to watch me is to take me with you.”

She grabbed her purse. “Then come on.”

Thatcher exploded. “Wow! We’re on a job. Do I get a gun?”

“No,” she shouted as she bumped his shoulder on her way out.

“Well, fine,” he yelled back. “But we’re picking my truck up on the way back. The last bit of paint is probably rusting off right now from being left out in the rain.”

When she didn’t answer, he tried asking another question as they reached the small parking lot beside the county offices. “Any chance I could drive your car? I could use a little practice with something that I don’t have to shift.”

“No,” she answered as she climbed into the driver’s side.

Lauren started the car and shoved the gear into drive before he had a chance to close the passenger door.

Thatcher didn’t care. He was on official police business. This was exciting. He might have to rethink becoming a coroner.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Charley

February 27

THE MORNING WAS COOL, but Charley could feel spring coming as he saddled his horse, Dooley, and prepared to ride out. The calves he’d bought yesterday at the auction would arrive after lunch and he wanted to cross the pasture on horseback a few times just to make sure there were no surprises. A leftover round of wire or a nest of snakes could kill a calf. He had the feeling Jubilee couldn’t take much of a loss.