Lone Heart Pass. Jodi Thomas

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.

      One bite from a rattler on a horse or cow’s neck could cut off the windpipe and suffocate the animal. There would be nothing a cowboy could do to help.

      He also wanted to check the quality of the water. Sharon’s parents had taken Lillie to the farm and ranch show in Amarillo, and on this rare Saturday without her, he planned to put in an extra five or six hours of work. He knew his daughter would have fun with her grandparents, and he needed every daylight hour he had to get this place ready for spring. He was making progress, but not fast enough. On Monday he’d hire men to help him work the cattle but today he was working on his own.

      Grinning, he remembered Jubilee mentioning twice yesterday that she was glad it was Friday. She wouldn’t be helping him today. City people might take off Saturdays and Sundays, but most farm and ranch folks kept working. Livestock don’t know it’s the weekend.

      He’d spent more time explaining things to her this week than working. He should have added in the bargain that he would get paid double for every day she helped. Yesterday, when he’d gone in for breakfast, he noticed she’d turned what had been a living room/bedroom for Levy into an office. Calendars, maps and goals for each month were taped to the walls.

      The woman was as much a puzzle to him as she’d been the first day when she’d stormed out in her raincoat and socks. Bossy one minute and completely confused the next. She was her own private merry-go-round of emotions.

      What made it worse was that he felt the need to help her, watch over her. She seemed adrift, without any friends or family. As far as he knew, not one person had called to check on her. Now and then he had to fight the need to just hold her and tell her it was going to be all right. She didn’t have to fight so hard or always put on such a brave face.

      Only Charley wasn’t sure he believed that himself. He knew what it was like to have few friends and no family that cared. Sometimes being brave was the only choice because the other alternative was too dark to think about.

      Jubilee did look good in her jeans and boots, though. He’d give the crazy lady that. And she always took the time to stop and talk to Lillie, even if she barely spoke five-year-old.

      He’d found them sitting in the middle of Jubilee’s dirt garden one afternoon. They were laughing about all the strange vegetables they could grow if plants mixed.

      “If an apple married a carrot,” Lillie had said, “I’d call it a carropple.”

      Jubilee made several suggestions for new plants and that night she brought over a tower of vegetables for Lillie to eat with her supper.

      Her being kind to Lillie mattered to Charley.

      The second day, when Lillie mentioned to Jubilee that her daddy was sleeping on the couch because there was no bed in his room, Jubilee insisted they go shopping in the upstairs rooms of her house. Four bedrooms were completely furnished and looked as though no one had slept in any of them for over fifty years. Plus, extra furniture lined the walls of the attic.

      When the three of them moved furniture out of the old place, Charley looked around. The big old house wasn’t in bad shape even if it did seem haunted