[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
was hunched over the phone, talking hurriedly. He wondered how long it would
take for everyone in town to know.
ABC Amber Text Converter Trial version, http://www.processtext.com/abctxt.html
He cut across the street with Amanda keeping stride beside him. She didn't
ask and he was grateful, but as he opened the door of city hall for her, he
saw her look of concern and remembered her dislike for cops and her fear that
he'd turn the ledger over to the police.
"Trust me," he whispered. Her look was half plea, half warning.
He'd hate to ever cross this woman.
The police station was an anteroom off city hall, just large enough for two
desks. A skinny redheaded young man stood behind the short counter, his
freckles seeming to leap off his pallid face. A pair of red-rimmed pale-blue
eyes peered at them with obvious interest as they entered. He wore a deputy's
uniform and his name tag read: Deputy Lane Waller.
Lane Waller had just hung up the phone. Jesse suspected that Aimee
Carruthers had called him. Now why would she do that, he wondered with a
growing uneasiness.
"I'm looking for Sheriff Art Tucker?" Jesse said stepping up to the
counter, hoping that the sheriff might still be around after all these years.
"Well, he shouldn't be hard to find." On closer inspection, the young man
didn't look old enough to drive, let alone carry the loaded weapon at his hip.
"You can find him where he always is this time of day."
"And where might that be?" Jesse asked when the deputy didn't go on.
"Oak Rest Cemetery on the edge of town," Lane said and chuckled heartily at
his own joke.
Funny. Jesse tried to squash his disappointment in the sheriff's demise,
but after all it had been thirty years. "How about the coroner?" Jesse
recalled his name from the newspaper article. "Gene Wells?"
Again Lane shook his head. "Pushing up daisies as well."
"I suppose there isn't anyone around still who worked in this office thirty
years ago?" Jesse asked, feeling like he'd hit a dead end already.
Lane Waller chuckled. "Not unless you count Hubert Owens."
"Who is he?" Jesse asked.
"Tucker's former deputy but he's "
"If he's still alive, where can I find him?" Jesse asked, before he could
be assaulted by another of Lane Waller's bad jokes.
He glanced at his watch. "He should be having his third beer by now over at
the Corral Bar. He might even be half sober. Or awake."
The Corral was wedged between the local garage and the drugstore.
Rough-hewn cedar covered the front in a western-looking log fence design.
Beer signs glowed in the dusty window, illuminating a handful of spiky
cactus plants covered with cobwebs and red Texas dust.
The bar was empty except for an elderly man on a stool, hunched over a
glass of draft and a younger man washing glasses behind the bar. At the back,
an old Patsy Cline tune played on the jukebox.
"Hubert Owens?" Jesse asked as he took the stool next to the man and Amanda
pulled up one on the other side. Of course Amanda drew the man's attention.
Owens gave her a blurry, near toothless smile. "Most people just call me
Huey," he said brightly and sat up a little straighter. He hadn't shaved in
days and reeked of stale beer, sweat and tobacco.
"Mr. Owens, I understand you were a deputy in town thirty years ago," Jesse
said.
Owens reluctantly turned to squint at Jesse, his look instantly suspicious.
"What of it?"
"We're trying to find out about that little baby that was left near the old
Duncan place thirty years ago," Amanda said turning on the charm, which was
considerable. "Out on Woodland Lake Road?"
Hubert Owens swiveled his head back around to her. "Sure, sweetie, but what
would a young thing like you care about that for?"
"I think that little baby might be someone I know," she said, her brown
eyes turning to gaze at Jesse challengingly. "You probably don't remember much
about the case& "
"The heck I don't, little lady. 'Member it like it was yesterday. Strangest
ABC Amber Text Converter Trial version, http://www.processtext.com/abctxt.html
damn 'scuse me strangest darned thing to happen around here."
Jesse sat back on his stool and watched Amanda in the mirror with a mixture
of irritation, amusement and gratitude. She was smart enough to have put two
and two together and figure out what he was looking for. His admiration of her
grew.
"What was so strange about it?" she asked conspiratorially.
Owens leaned toward her. Jesse could smell his beer-soaked breath from
where he sat and knew Amanda was getting the full force of it. Well, she'd
asked for it.
"Who'd leave a little baby like that in a box beside the road?" the old man
asked. "Didn't make no sense at all." He leaned closer to her. "And the note "
He shook his head.
"What note?" Jesse mouthed to Amanda in the mirror.
"There was a note?" she asked in a hushed, sexy voice.
The old man nodded smugly. "That part never got into the paper. Ya know ya
always got to keep one piece of evidence back. That way when someone comes
forward, wanting the baby, ya got something secret. If they can tell ya what's
in the note, then "
''What was in the note?" she asked trying to steer him back on track.
He glanced down the bar at the bartender. He didn't seem to be paying any
attention but Jesse knew he was listening to every word.
"Guess after all these years it don't make no difference," Owens said. "And
you seem like a nice enough girl." The old man seemed to zone out for a
moment.
"Was the note handwritten?" Amanda prompted.
He blinked, then nodded. "Handwritten and kinda scrawled like the person
writing it had been in a hurry. Said and I'll never forget this 'Take care of
my precious baby. I will go to my grave loving him.'"
The words squeezed at Jesse's heart.
"You probably had your suspicions about whose baby it was," Amanda said. "I
mean, it would be hard in a town this size to hide being pregnant."
Jesse watched her work in the mirror, admiring how easily deception came to
her. Must be something in the genes. The thought brought him up short as he
wondered about his own genes.
Owens stared down into his beer. "Weren't no local gal, I can tell you
that." Owens glanced over at Amanda. "You know, you're the second person who's
asked about that baby. Couple weeks ago "He seemed to catch himself. He
reached for his beer and drained it.
"Who else was asking about the baby?" Jesse asked.
Owens didn't answer. He looked around the empty bar. The bartender was busy
washing glasses and didn't look up.
Amanda laid a hand on the old man's arm. "Who else was asking?" she
whispered.
"That's just it," Owens said, dropping his voice. "What's a guy like that
coming around here asking a lot of questions after all these years about some [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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was hunched over the phone, talking hurriedly. He wondered how long it would
take for everyone in town to know.
ABC Amber Text Converter Trial version, http://www.processtext.com/abctxt.html
He cut across the street with Amanda keeping stride beside him. She didn't
ask and he was grateful, but as he opened the door of city hall for her, he
saw her look of concern and remembered her dislike for cops and her fear that
he'd turn the ledger over to the police.
"Trust me," he whispered. Her look was half plea, half warning.
He'd hate to ever cross this woman.
The police station was an anteroom off city hall, just large enough for two
desks. A skinny redheaded young man stood behind the short counter, his
freckles seeming to leap off his pallid face. A pair of red-rimmed pale-blue
eyes peered at them with obvious interest as they entered. He wore a deputy's
uniform and his name tag read: Deputy Lane Waller.
Lane Waller had just hung up the phone. Jesse suspected that Aimee
Carruthers had called him. Now why would she do that, he wondered with a
growing uneasiness.
"I'm looking for Sheriff Art Tucker?" Jesse said stepping up to the
counter, hoping that the sheriff might still be around after all these years.
"Well, he shouldn't be hard to find." On closer inspection, the young man
didn't look old enough to drive, let alone carry the loaded weapon at his hip.
"You can find him where he always is this time of day."
"And where might that be?" Jesse asked when the deputy didn't go on.
"Oak Rest Cemetery on the edge of town," Lane said and chuckled heartily at
his own joke.
Funny. Jesse tried to squash his disappointment in the sheriff's demise,
but after all it had been thirty years. "How about the coroner?" Jesse
recalled his name from the newspaper article. "Gene Wells?"
Again Lane shook his head. "Pushing up daisies as well."
"I suppose there isn't anyone around still who worked in this office thirty
years ago?" Jesse asked, feeling like he'd hit a dead end already.
Lane Waller chuckled. "Not unless you count Hubert Owens."
"Who is he?" Jesse asked.
"Tucker's former deputy but he's "
"If he's still alive, where can I find him?" Jesse asked, before he could
be assaulted by another of Lane Waller's bad jokes.
He glanced at his watch. "He should be having his third beer by now over at
the Corral Bar. He might even be half sober. Or awake."
The Corral was wedged between the local garage and the drugstore.
Rough-hewn cedar covered the front in a western-looking log fence design.
Beer signs glowed in the dusty window, illuminating a handful of spiky
cactus plants covered with cobwebs and red Texas dust.
The bar was empty except for an elderly man on a stool, hunched over a
glass of draft and a younger man washing glasses behind the bar. At the back,
an old Patsy Cline tune played on the jukebox.
"Hubert Owens?" Jesse asked as he took the stool next to the man and Amanda
pulled up one on the other side. Of course Amanda drew the man's attention.
Owens gave her a blurry, near toothless smile. "Most people just call me
Huey," he said brightly and sat up a little straighter. He hadn't shaved in
days and reeked of stale beer, sweat and tobacco.
"Mr. Owens, I understand you were a deputy in town thirty years ago," Jesse
said.
Owens reluctantly turned to squint at Jesse, his look instantly suspicious.
"What of it?"
"We're trying to find out about that little baby that was left near the old
Duncan place thirty years ago," Amanda said turning on the charm, which was
considerable. "Out on Woodland Lake Road?"
Hubert Owens swiveled his head back around to her. "Sure, sweetie, but what
would a young thing like you care about that for?"
"I think that little baby might be someone I know," she said, her brown
eyes turning to gaze at Jesse challengingly. "You probably don't remember much
about the case& "
"The heck I don't, little lady. 'Member it like it was yesterday. Strangest
ABC Amber Text Converter Trial version, http://www.processtext.com/abctxt.html
damn 'scuse me strangest darned thing to happen around here."
Jesse sat back on his stool and watched Amanda in the mirror with a mixture
of irritation, amusement and gratitude. She was smart enough to have put two
and two together and figure out what he was looking for. His admiration of her
grew.
"What was so strange about it?" she asked conspiratorially.
Owens leaned toward her. Jesse could smell his beer-soaked breath from
where he sat and knew Amanda was getting the full force of it. Well, she'd
asked for it.
"Who'd leave a little baby like that in a box beside the road?" the old man
asked. "Didn't make no sense at all." He leaned closer to her. "And the note "
He shook his head.
"What note?" Jesse mouthed to Amanda in the mirror.
"There was a note?" she asked in a hushed, sexy voice.
The old man nodded smugly. "That part never got into the paper. Ya know ya
always got to keep one piece of evidence back. That way when someone comes
forward, wanting the baby, ya got something secret. If they can tell ya what's
in the note, then "
''What was in the note?" she asked trying to steer him back on track.
He glanced down the bar at the bartender. He didn't seem to be paying any
attention but Jesse knew he was listening to every word.
"Guess after all these years it don't make no difference," Owens said. "And
you seem like a nice enough girl." The old man seemed to zone out for a
moment.
"Was the note handwritten?" Amanda prompted.
He blinked, then nodded. "Handwritten and kinda scrawled like the person
writing it had been in a hurry. Said and I'll never forget this 'Take care of
my precious baby. I will go to my grave loving him.'"
The words squeezed at Jesse's heart.
"You probably had your suspicions about whose baby it was," Amanda said. "I
mean, it would be hard in a town this size to hide being pregnant."
Jesse watched her work in the mirror, admiring how easily deception came to
her. Must be something in the genes. The thought brought him up short as he
wondered about his own genes.
Owens stared down into his beer. "Weren't no local gal, I can tell you
that." Owens glanced over at Amanda. "You know, you're the second person who's
asked about that baby. Couple weeks ago "He seemed to catch himself. He
reached for his beer and drained it.
"Who else was asking about the baby?" Jesse asked.
Owens didn't answer. He looked around the empty bar. The bartender was busy
washing glasses and didn't look up.
Amanda laid a hand on the old man's arm. "Who else was asking?" she
whispered.
"That's just it," Owens said, dropping his voice. "What's a guy like that
coming around here asking a lot of questions after all these years about some [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]