Page 41 of Risk of a Lifetime
“Appears to have a good grasp on the community.”
“Came with good references from a sheriff up in Illinois.”
“Why’d he choose here?”
The sheriff shook his head. “Smooth, JB. But you asked one question too many to be passing time.”
JB didn’t care if he was smooth or not. Anybody could be focused on Marcy. “I’m not ruling anyone out I don’t know.”
“It’s not one of my men.” Davis’s tone held authority, conviction, and understanding. “Trust me. I’d know.”
JB scanned the restaurant as the lowering sun glared through from the outside. “Sorry. Next thing you know, I’ll be interrogating dust specks in the air.”
Starting at the front door and working his sight-field around section-by-section, he visually and mentally scrutinized everything. Top to bottom, bottom to top, stool to stool, table to table, booth to booth. He tensed. Coincidences topped the list of things he didn’t like. Convenient details were number two.
Why was the guy in the second booth still in town? Why here? Was he really having pie? Or, rather, conveniently nursing a cup of coffee while he pushed uneaten pieces of crust around a plate?
JB made no pretense of friendliness as he walked to the booth. “Who are you?”
The broad-shouldered man who’d pulled up on his motorcycle and had carried Betsy from the car earlier in the day didn’t bother to look up. He motioned the waitress for a coffee refill. “Didn’t say.”
Pushing himself where he shouldn’t go was a technique JB had mastered. Right now, he didn’t give a damn if he used tact or not. In fact, a good knock-down fight might clear his mind. He braced his arms on the table then leaned into the man’s space. “I want an answer. What are you doing in Crayton?”
The man’s jaw worked, and his expression said “back off” when he raised his head, but he kept his cool. “I don’t believe you’ve showed me your badge, officer. If you are an officer.”
JB reached for his FBI credentials, but Sheriff Davis’ firm and gentle hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind. Finally, JB blew out a sigh and leaned against a stool at the counter behind him. Hell. He had no credentials. And he’d pushed too far.
Realizing he needed to let the police focus on the case, he glanced out the plate glass window. Wilson had been right, he was too emotionally involved. But, then again, how could he stay out of the way?
Sheriff Davis slid into the conversation as he sat on the cushion on the opposite side of the stranger’s booth, popping his finger on the table…tap, pause, tap, tap.That used to be the code the sheriff used to meanwatch what you say. “My friend here didn’t mean anything by his questions. We’re working a case right now, and he’s just a little over imaginative.”
The man sat his cup down, glanced at the sheriff, then grinned. “Once I heard about the trouble going on around town, I figured you’d be looking for me. Seeing as I helped at the scene this afternoon.” Hands splayed in a don’t-get-excited attitude, he stood, then held out his hand to JB. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Cain Connery.”
JB grasped the man’s hand and didn’t let go. “Cain…Cain Connery. Seventh grade, I pummeled you for swiping my lunch.”
The men stepped apart, eyeing each other with memories.
“A guy’ll do what he has to when his belly’s empty.” Cain eased back into the booth. “Besides, I prefer to remember junior high when I crushed you into the ground every chance I got on the football field. Of course, Marcy was so infatuated with you, she still never gave me a second glance.”
The sheriff shuffled his pen and notepad to one hand, and shook Cain’s with the other. “As I recall, by the time you two got to high school, you’d both learned how to communicate. Good thing, ‘cause I’m not sure which one of you’d have whooped the other.”
JB grabbed a chair from the closest table, crossed his leg over the seat, and folded his forearms on the back. Yeah, he remembered Cain from years ago, but the man still hadn’t said what he was doing in town. Last JB heard, Cain and his dad had been in some trouble down in the Gulf area. Maybe somewhere along the line he’d decided to hire his gun out to the highest bidder.
Sheriff Davis leaned back as if comfortable with the whole situation at hand. “Sorry to hear your dad has gone and moved to Alaska for good. I always loved hearing his stories on hunting.”
Cain tensed, then eased. “Yeah, well…he’s got some new stories now. Like the one where the polar bear didn’t back down.”
“What made him go to Alaska?” JB remembered Cain’s old man. He hadn’t been much, but at least the guy had stuck around until his son had joined the Army and shipped out. Had never made him a punching bag, either.
“After my discharge, it seemed like every place I landed, he showed up a few months later.” Cain took a gulp of coffee. “When my job got relocated to the Anchorage office, I actually thought he wouldn’t follow me that far north. Of course, I hadn’t expected him to show up when I worked on the oil rigs in the Gulf, either.”
Kennett returned with Joanie.
“Some of the staff needs to clock out,” Joanie said. “Okay to send them home?”
“Not yet,” Sheriff Davis and JB spoke in unison.
“Looks like I’d better get out of your way.” Cain laid a ten on the table and stood.
