Stella Bagwell - The Deputy's Lost and Found / Her Second Chance Cop - The Deputy's Lost and Found / Her Second Chance Cop

Brady sighed. “Yeah. I see. So where are your notes? I understand that you’ve been tied up most of the day, so if you’ve not had a chance to type them up, we’ll worry about that later. Just give me what you have and I’ll try to decipher your handwriting.”

Hank’s expression turned sheepish. “I ain’t got no notes. Nobody knew nothin’. So there wasn’t any use in taking down notes.”

Screwing his hat back onto his head, Brady narrowed his eyes on the hapless deputy. Hank was usually a dedicated deputy. And ever since he’d been hired on at the department, he’d been a good friend to Brady. But at this moment he wanted to wring the man’s neck.

“No use, huh? I don’t know what makes me angrier at you, Hank. Not following orders or using double negatives!”

His face red, Hank cringed back in his seat. “Brady, that’s not fair! I talked to a bunch of people. Waitresses and clerks and cleaning people. You name it and I talked to ‘em. They all looked at Lass’s photo and none of them remembered her.”

Frustration boiled over and Brady’s hand slapped down so hard on his desk that the coffee came dangerously close to slopping over the rim and spilling onto the ink blotter.

“Since when did Sheriff Hamilton decide to change department policy around here?” Brady boomed at him. “Maybe we should call him out here and ask him? He might need to know that you’ve taken it upon yourself to decide what information is worthy of being noted or ignored.”

“No! Oh, hell, Brady, please don’t tell him about this!” Hank pleaded, then suddenly his expression turned hopeful and he dug into the front pocket of his jeans until he pulled out a small scrap of paper. Tossing it onto Brady’s desk he added, “I almost forgot. That’s for you.”

With a cursory glance at the paper, Brady asked, “What is it?”

“A telephone number. From that little redhead at the desk at the Aspen Hotel. She asked me to give it to you.”

His back teeth grinding together, Brady wadded the paper into a tight ball and threw it at the junior deputy. “I’m not interested in some little redhead!” He regained control, stabbing a finger toward the outer office. “Go type up your work, and if nobody knew anything, then put it down that way! And I expect you to list each business you walked into and each person you said one word to. Got it?”

Hank jumped up from the chair so fast that it tipped over and clattered loudly to the hard tiled floor. Before Brady could say more, he scrambled to right the chair, then scurried from the room as though a bolt of lightning was nipping at his rear.

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