Page 67 of Mountains Divide Us

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth and stared at me for fifteen seconds, but she didn’t respond to my comment.

I changed the subject. “There’s a ranch on the edge of town called Milson’s—”

“I know it. One of my book club ladies said her husband works there.”

“Who’s that?”

“Carly Eaton.”

“Yeah,” I said, “that’s Buckey Mann’s girl. He’s the friend who’s gonna help me with the youth football thing.”

“Doesn’t Max work there too?”

“Yep. They called Carey out there recently, and I followed up. They had some supplies go missin’. I think our burglar might’ve made a stop out there, lookin’ for somethin’ to eat, but there’s also a bottle of antibiotics they can’t seem to find. We found those bandages in the trash at the library, so I’m thinkin’ this kid is hurt somehow. I don’t think it’s bad though. Or at least, I hope it ain’t.”

She sighed, frowning, and looked out the window as I slipped the truck into gear and headed for the street behind the library, the one that intersected with the back alley. There was a nice nook for us to park in by an old, unused one-horse stable at the back of the Zimmerman’s property. I’d already called them to get their permission to park out there overnight. I’d had to do some quick thinking to come up with an explanation about why I needed to do it. If they knew someone had been breaking into the library, that shit would’ve spread through Wisper like diesel fire. I told them there was a menacing racoon on the rampage, and I didn’t want to wait for Game and Fish to deal with it. It wasn’t the best excuse I could’ve come up with, but it worked in a pinch.

“I can’t imagine being on my own like that at his age. He must be so scared.”

“He is.”

She looked at me. “Do you know something about this?”

I didn’t want to lie outright, but I also didn’t want to bring my traumatic past into the equation. That was a conversation for another time, although it did occur to me that I kept finding reasons to delay the inevitable. “Just my experience on the job.”

“Oh, well, what do you see happening? I mean, if we catch him breaking in, what will we do?”

“I’ll have to bring him in.”

“What? Frank! You can’t arrest him. He’s just a kid.”

“We think, but he’s also a thief. He didn’t just steal books, Samantha. He stole money and medication. I have to at least pick him up to find out why, and the safest way to do that is to take him down to the station.”

She was glaring at me now. “We could just ask him.”

“That ain’t the law.”

“Frank, sometimes laws need to be broken.”

“Not by me.”

She was pissed now, and she sat back into the passenger seat as I parked between two big fir trees and killed my headlights. We had a perfect view of the library’s back door and east-facing windows. “You live your life by the book, don’t you?”

I laughed in my head when it occurred to me what she was accusing me of, this beautiful lover of books. “I do.”

“Why? I mean, don’t you ever break a rule?”

“No.” Breaking rules was what landed me in a situation much like the one Murphy was in, though it wasn’t me who’d broken them.

She sighed again, but this time, frustration clogged her voice. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she snuggled into her coat. “Well, before you came back to pick me up, I put food on the table in the conference room, and I left a hat, scarf, and gloves on the check-in desk.”

“What? Why would you do that? I told you we don’t wanna do anything to spook him, and I distinctly remember tellin’ you to act normal.”

“I know that, Frank, but I also know that it’s wet and cold outside. Besides, I left them in a pile, made it look like I’d just forgotten the hat and scarf. And the food is all snacky stuff. It looks like I was eating my lunch but left the rest on the table.”

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