“You’re glaring at me.”
“I was thinking about Dana,” he blurted out. “We went to the dance together last year. We had sort of an argument, and she hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“An argument?” she prodded.
He moved restively. “I thought her clothes were too seductive and I said so. She said how she dressed was none of my business and asked what century I lived in.”
Meadow moved closer. “I used to wear sexy things, too,” she said. “Well, not really sexy, but more revealing than what I wear now. I had to interview a prisoner in a jail outside St. Louis. The prisoner seemed very nice and quiet, so I had them uncuff him while we talked. I even had them bring him coffee.” Her expression hardened. “It was a sexual assault case. I asked him a question that set him off. He said that I dressed like a woman who really wanted it bad, and he came at me. When I fought, he beat me up.” She swallowed hard. The memory was painful. “I never wore revealing things again.” She looked up at him, reading the sympathy in his hard face. “I guess Dana has been very lucky. Or maybe I’m just in the wrong sort of profession.” She smiled. “Maybe I should hit Dana up for a job selling flowers.” She laughed. “If I’m not armed, I’m not really a danger to the public.”
“You’re not a danger to anything,” he said softly. “You had a bad experience, several of them, and you’ve lost your self-confidence. I’m going to help you get it back. I promise.”
Her expression was revealing. “What if I’m not cut out for law enforcement after all? You know, when I was with the police department, all I did was paperwork. They let me train under a patrol officer, but I heard later that he said I’d be a disaster if they turned me loose in a car.” She shrugged. “He was right. I wrecked a patrol car. After that, I did mostly investigative work and searched down leads. The Bureau took me on faith, but I think they were sorry about it afterward. The agent who recruited me was a friend of my father’s. He helped me get into the academy.”
“None of us start out well in law enforcement,” he said, but he was thinking she might be right about her choice of professions. He wasn’t going to put her in the line of fire, that was for sure.
“Do you want me to keep on the lamp case, or . . . ?”
“I’d like you to run down these forged checks, if you don’t mind. You can speak to the security chief at the bank. His name is Tom Jones. He’ll help.”
She gave him a wide-eyed look. “He didn’t retire from a singing career ... ?”
“Get out of here,” Jeff shot at her.
“It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone . . .” She warbled on the way out.
“If you sing that song to him, wear track shoes!” he called after her. “You can take it from me that he has absolutely no sense of humor!”
She just laughed.
She realized that he wasn’t giving her cases that would put her in the path of violent men. She was grateful in one way and sad in another. He didn’t trust her not to mess up. He was probably right. It hurt, just the same.
But it was her job to follow orders. So she did.
* * *
Tom Jones looked nothing like the famous singing star. He was big and stocky and had thick black hair and hands the size of plates. He didn’t smile. His dark eyes narrowed on her face, as if he was assessing her.
“The sheriff sent me over to ask you about some forged checks,” she began.
“Come into my office and we’ll talk.”
He led the way into a glass-fronted office, offered her a padded leather chair, and sank into the leather of his own desk chair. “One of those suspects has done time already,” he told her. “And both of them do private duty as caretakers for the elderly in our community. They stole checks from their employers and learned to forge the names. We were fortunate that both their clients noticed the erroneous charge on their bank statements and called us. We discovered the thefts pretty quickly.”
“Nice work.”
He smiled, if that faint drawing up of one side of his mouth could be called a smile. He laced his fingers on his chest. “The other suspect is a friend of the one we fingered,” he added. “He only got a couple of thousand. His friend, the one with the rap sheet, stole thirty thousand from his client. We can put together all the information you need to prosecute them, and I’ll testify in court if you need me to.”
“Thanks,” she said sincerely. “I’ll get back to you on that. Right now, I have to do some interrogations.”
“The first suspect, Russell Harris, served time for assault,” he returned. “If you interview him, don’t go alone. The victim was a woman.”
She felt her heart jump, but she smiled. “Thanks for the advice.”
“We heard about what happened to you in the Bureau,” he said, surprising her. “We’ll look out for you here. If you can’t get a deputy to go with you, I’ll go. I’m licensed to conceal carry and I’m not afraid of men who hit women.”
The smile grew bigger. He was nice. “Thanks.”
“It’s a small community, Raven Springs,” he commented. “We don’t have many newcomers, so when we do, we start asking questions. In a nice way,” he added. “We don’t really pry, but we like to know who our neighbors are. I’m sorry for what happened to you,” he added. “They should have sent a male agent with you on that interrogation. When I was with the Bureau, I made sure that female agents had backup.”