Page 4 of In Her Sights

Cyril let out a squawk that sounded suspiciously like laughter, but to Jenna’s and Jake’s relief, the bird fluttered down a few branches, inching closer to investigate.

“Easy does it,” Jenna whispered, watching Jake crouch and extend his arm, offering seeds up to the parrot like an olive branch.

“Come on, buddy,” Jake murmured, his voice surprisingly soothing. “Just a little bit closer.”

Cyril hopped along the branch, descending farther, drawn by the promise of food. Jenna tensed, preparing to swoop in with the net at the right moment.

“Anytime now,” Jake muttered under his breath, glancing toward Jenna with a raised eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin.

“Patience,” Jenna replied, though she too fought back a smirk. The absurdity of the situation wasn’t lost on her—the sheriff and her deputy engaging in a contest with a parrot.

Then Cyril descended to the lowest branch, tilting his head at Jake, who held perfectly still, save for the gentle rustling of seeds in his palm.

“Now, Jenna!” Jake hissed as Cyril took the bait, hopping down onto his outstretched arm.

With reflexes honed by years on the force, Jenna lunged forward, net sweeping through the air. Cyril, sensing the trap, took off—but Jenna ensnared him mid-flight.

“Gotcha!” she exclaimed, securing the net around the flustered parrot as he flapped wildly, a blur of gray and red. Cyril squawked a torrent of expletives in protest.

“Good catch,” Jake said, joining her side.

“Easy there, Cyril,” Jenna coaxed in her most soothing tone, which seemed to have an effect even through the din. “You’re okay.”

Jake edged closer, his hands ready to assist. Together, they gently bundled the net, ensuring the parrot couldn’t hurt himself in a panic. It was not unlike defusing a ticking bomb, where precision and calm were crucial.

“Well done!” Arnold Henley called out, having followed them from some distance.

“Let’s get him home,” Jenna said. They walked toward Thelma Rigby’s cottage, just a few blocks away.

As they walked, Jenna cradled the netted bundle in her arms. Cyril had quieted down, sensing that his escapade had come to an end. Townsfolk peered from their windows, their earlier agitation replaced by smiles and waves. The sheriff and her deputy had once again ensured tranquility in their small corner of Genesius County.

They arrived at the quaint little house, where Mrs. Thelma Rigby was pacing the porch. Her anxious face broke into relief as she saw them approach. Her hands fluttered to her heart when she spotted her beloved pet, safe within the confines of the net.

“Oh, bless your hearts!” Thelma exclaimed, rushing to meet them at her front porch. “My Cyril, my sweet boy!”

“Safe and sound, Mrs. Rigby,” Jenna assured her, handing over the net carefully.

Once they were indoors, Thelma’s fingers worked quickly to release Cyril, who immediately perched on her shoulder and nuzzled against her cheek. Overcome with gratitude, Thelma enveloped Jenna and Jake in a warm embrace.

“Thank you both so much,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I would have come out looking with you, but I wanted to be at home in case he decided to come back on his own. I don’t know what I would have done without you two. Such a splendid thing you did!”

“It’s all part of the job, ma’am,” Jenna replied, feeling a hint of embarrassment at the praise.

“Please, let me at least offer you some lemonade. You must be parched after all that excitement,” Thelma insisted.

“Maybe just for a minute,” Jenna conceded, aware that the real work of the day was still ahead, but recognizing the value of these small moments of connection in the fabric of Trentville.

A few moments later, they stood on the front porch, chilled glasses frosted in the warmth of the late June sun. Thelma thanked them again and disappeared back inside to take care of her pet.

“Parrot wrangling,” Jenna mused aloud, watching Jake finish his own drink with an amused smirk. “Didn’t see that in the job description when I signed up.”

Jake chuckled, leaning beside her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You know, for a sleepy town, Trentville sure keeps us on our toes.”

“Maybe we should add ‘exotic bird expertise’ to our resumes,” Jenna said.

“Let’s hope the rest of today’s emergencies are more… terrestrial,” said Jake, leaving his empty glass on the porch table. “Ya know, Jenna,” he mused with a grin, “hunting down Cyril was fun and all, but it’s not quite the same thrill as the Shannon Mine case this spring, huh?”

Jenna nodded. She remembered all too well—the cold walls of the cavernous tunnels, the damp earthy smell that clung to the air, the darkness that seemed to press in from all sides.

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