Speed Trap. Patricia Davids

he’s just shy.” Aaron Turner appeared at the hood of Mandy’s truck. Slightly above medium height with dirty, dark blond hair that needed trimming, he exuded the confidence his partner seemed to lack. His red shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and tucked into tight-fitting faded jeans.

      “Maybe he doesn’t like cops,” Mandy suggested.

      “I think he has a crush on you.”

      Flabbergasted, Mandy didn’t know how to respond. Aaron moved to take the pump nozzle. His hand brushed down her arm.

      She drew back. “I thought this was the self-serve pump.”

      He leaned toward her with a knowing smile. “We try to give law enforcement special consideration.”

      Mandy doubted Fred, Ken or anyone else in her department had been treated to the man’s too-familiar charm. She folded her arms over her chest. “My officers don’t expect or condone special considerations.”

      Aaron’s smile faded. “I meant no disrespect, Sheriff. Have you caught the man responsible for running that poor woman off the road?”

      Hating to admit she had almost nothing to go on, she said, “Not yet, but we will.”

      “I heard her ex-husband is a suspect.”

      Shooting him a sidelong glance, Mandy asked, “Where did you hear that?”

      “Oh, you know. People talk.”

      “We’re still working the case.”

      “How about the farm supply store robbery? Any leads there?”

      She didn’t need reminding that her unsolved caseload was mounting. “We’re checking into several leads.”

      “A lot of the merchants in the area are getting worried. Crime is going up.”

      “Do you have a point, Mr. Tucker?”

      “Personally, I’ve got nothing against women police officers, but I thought you should know that some people are saying you can’t do the job.”

      The smirk in his tone told her exactly how much he enjoyed repeating the gossip.

      The pump dinged to signal her tank was full. Aaron replaced the handle. “Will that be cash or charge, Sheriff?”

      “Cash, Mr. Tucker. And should anyone else be wondering if I can do this job, the answer is yes.”

      Fuming, Mandy climbed in her truck and headed down the highway. First, Garrett accused her of not doing her job and now, if Aaron Tucker was to be believed, the whole town was wondering if she was up to the task.

      God, I know I can do this job, but I need your help. Give me something to go on.

      Drawing a cleansing breath, she blew it out and felt the tension in her body ease. God was on her side. She should never doubt that.

      She also knew what good police work was. The logical place to start solving Judy Bowen’s murder was with the victim’s coworkers and neighbors. The first name on her list of people to interview was the Reverend Carl Spencer, a pastor of a small church in a poor section of the inner city where Judy Bowen had worked.

      Intermittent showers gave way to clearing skies on the long drive into the city. The country music flowing out of her radio did little to distract her thoughts. The person she couldn’t stop thinking about was Garrett Bowen.

      She was starting to believe he wasn’t involved in his ex-wife’s death. A guilty man would be laying low, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself, not walking into her office and demanding she do more.

      His dark eyes, so wary and watchful, were impossible to read. At times, she felt he looked at her more deeply than other men did. As if he wanted to see some part of her she didn’t show the rest of the world. As if he knew her tough attitude was a cover for feelings she didn’t care to share.

      At other times, he looked past her, as if afraid of what he saw.

      Shaking off her preoccupying thoughts, Mandy was relieved when the outskirts of the city finally rolled into view. Finding her way to the South Broadview Community Church proved to be easy enough, but as she pulled into a pothole-filled parking lot, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

      Garrett stood, shaking hands with a small, white-haired man dressed in a dark gray suit. Garrett’s dog, his pink tongue hanging out, sat between them.

      Mandy threw open her truck door and slammed it shut before marching up to Garrett. “Bowen, I thought I told you to stay out of my way.”

      He stiffened. She sensed his defiance, but his reply was calm. “I’m here to visit with a friend of Judy about funeral arrangements. I’m not looking to get in your way.”

      If he’d just get good and mad, she’d feel better about him. His icy control made her wonder what he was thinking.

      He wasn’t breaking the law, but the urge to slap him in cuffs was getting stronger by the minute. His dog chose that moment to yip at her and beg for attention, straining at his leash.

      Garrett pulled him back. “Behave, Wiley, or the sheriff will lock you up for disturbing the peace.”

      The black-and-white fur ball sat obediently, but his little body wiggled with suppressed excitement.

      Mandy turned her attention to the elderly man who was watching them intently. She held out her hand. “Good afternoon, sir, I’m Sheriff Amanda Scott of Morrison County. Are you Pastor Spencer?”

      He took her hand in a firm grip. “That would be me. I’m pleased to meet you, Sheriff, but I certainly wish it were under happier circumstances. Judy was a member of my congregation and a dear friend.”

      “I’m sorry for your loss, Reverend.”

      “Thank you.”

      “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

      “Certainly.”

      She shot a sideways sour look at Garrett. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private, sir?”

      Garrett tipped his hat in her direction. “Wiley and I were just leaving. Thanks for your time, Pastor Spencer.”

      “Certainly. I appreciate how difficult a time this is for you. Just know that Judy is at peace with our Lord at this very moment.”

      Mandy caught a glimpse of deep sadness in Garrett’s eyes and saw a muscle twitch in his cheek. He didn’t reply. He merely nodded and turned away.

      “It’s hardest on the ones who don’t believe,” the reverend said softly. “Now, Officer, what questions do you have for me?”

      “I understand Judy worked for you.”

      “Yes. She started coming to church here about six months ago. It was her enthusiasm for our work with abused women and children more than her typing skills that prompted me to offer her a job.”

      Mandy fell in step beside the reverend as he began walking toward the church. “Did you know Judy had several arrests for drug use when she lived in Timber Wells and in Kansas City?”

      “She was a very troubled young woman when I first met her. She’d witnessed the murder of a friend at the hands of their drug dealer. It was her friend’s death and Judy’s narrow escape that finally forced her to confront and kick her habit.”

      At the side of the church was a small stone bench. He sat and indicated the space beside him. “Were you aware that Judy had an inoperable brain tumor?”

      Startled, Mandy shook her head as she sat down.

      Pastor Spencer sighed heavily. “When she found out about her condition, she became determined to see that Colin was taken care of.”

      “What about the baby’s father?”

      “You’re asking the same question Mr. Bowen asked.