the end of the counter were taken by the crew from Slim’s barbershop, with Slim himself at the end chewing on a breadstick. Paul Nesbitt, the town mayor, was there with his wife, Chrissy, sitting alongside Ricki Dillinger.
And that was the only empty seat, right next to Ricki. Sam hesitated as he unzipped his jacket and considered grabbing dinner at the saloon instead. He didn’t have anything against Ricki. Hell, growing up best friends with her brother Colton, he’d ridden and corralled cattle alongside that girl. There’d been years of campfires and competitions, shooting matches and horse races. Ricki had been like a sister to him, and he’d missed her when she flew out East to be a city girl.
But now, Ricki was back, and Sam wasn’t feeling so brotherly anymore. It pissed him off. Feelings. Shifting tides of emotion that were about as easy to stop as a cold front coming down from Canada.
“Sheriff?” The mayor twisted around on his stool. “Pull up a stool and grab some grub.”
“Sounds good.” Sam shook off his jacket and hung it on a hook, trying to grow a thick skin in the process. “I’ve been passing these around town.” He held up the stack of flyers, then passed a few out to the patrons at the counter. “We’ve got a missing person, last seen at Big Bart’s.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Paul held the flyer away to accommodate his farsightedness. “I heard there was some commotion out by Big Bart’s today. A search party?”
Sam nodded. He’d spent most of the day organizing the search, but even with men and women from all the nearby law enforcement agencies, the county was a huge parcel of land to scour, and snowdrifts and freezing temperatures didn’t help.
Leaning close to her husband, Chrissy sighed. “Pretty girl. These things always scare me.”
“She got any friends in the area?” asked Henry, who’d been cutting Sam’s hair since he was five.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m hoping someone might come forward once we get the word out. Her car was abandoned with a flat tire, and it would be great if a friend picked her up.” Safe and sound. That’s what Sam had told his own daughter when she used to wake up from a nightmare. Don’t worry, you’re safe and sound. He wished he could say the same for Amber Barstow.
“When was the last time we had a missing person here?” someone asked.
“Never happened while I was sheriff.” Sam took the empty stool beside Ricki, who was studying the flyer, staring at the photo in the same way he had.
“That’s a question for the town archives,” Paul said. Running an insurance agency with Chrissy, Paul was a big fan of facts and statistics.
“There was a guy in the sixties,” Slim offered. “Vietnam vet. Turned out he went off in the woods and shot himself.”
Sam saw that Ricki was halfway through a roast beef platter. “How’s the beef tonight?” he asked.
“Melt in your mouth.”
“I’ll take one of those, Cordelia. And water.” He turned to Ricki, who was usually not part of the Friday night crowd at Molly’s. “What are you up to?”
“Treating myself to dinner. Just dropped my daughter off at the high school for the basketball game.”
“That’s good. Glad she’s making friends.”
“Well, actually I had to force her to go, mean mother that I am.” Ricki pushed the flyer back on the counter and picked up her fork. “What are you working, four to twelve?”
“I started at six-hundred hours with the search party out by Big Bart’s. I’m down one deputy with another on maternity leave, a few more are out with the flu, but this isn’t something I can put off till after Christmas.”
“Does the state have a missing persons unit?”
“Naw. Highway patrol is more focused on the highway. Right now I’m coordinating the multistate search, but if we don’t find her the FBI is probably going to get involved.”
“Coordinating a multistate search and passing out flyers
And that was the only empty seat, right next to Ricki. Sam hesitated as he unzipped his jacket and considered grabbing dinner at the saloon instead. He didn’t have anything against Ricki. Hell, growing up best friends with her brother Colton, he’d ridden and corralled cattle alongside that girl. There’d been years of campfires and competitions, shooting matches and horse races. Ricki had been like a sister to him, and he’d missed her when she flew out East to be a city girl.
But now, Ricki was back, and Sam wasn’t feeling so brotherly anymore. It pissed him off. Feelings. Shifting tides of emotion that were about as easy to stop as a cold front coming down from Canada.
“Sheriff?” The mayor twisted around on his stool. “Pull up a stool and grab some grub.”
“Sounds good.” Sam shook off his jacket and hung it on a hook, trying to grow a thick skin in the process. “I’ve been passing these around town.” He held up the stack of flyers, then passed a few out to the patrons at the counter. “We’ve got a missing person, last seen at Big Bart’s.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Paul held the flyer away to accommodate his farsightedness. “I heard there was some commotion out by Big Bart’s today. A search party?”
Sam nodded. He’d spent most of the day organizing the search, but even with men and women from all the nearby law enforcement agencies, the county was a huge parcel of land to scour, and snowdrifts and freezing temperatures didn’t help.
Leaning close to her husband, Chrissy sighed. “Pretty girl. These things always scare me.”
“She got any friends in the area?” asked Henry, who’d been cutting Sam’s hair since he was five.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m hoping someone might come forward once we get the word out. Her car was abandoned with a flat tire, and it would be great if a friend picked her up.” Safe and sound. That’s what Sam had told his own daughter when she used to wake up from a nightmare. Don’t worry, you’re safe and sound. He wished he could say the same for Amber Barstow.
“When was the last time we had a missing person here?” someone asked.
“Never happened while I was sheriff.” Sam took the empty stool beside Ricki, who was studying the flyer, staring at the photo in the same way he had.
“That’s a question for the town archives,” Paul said. Running an insurance agency with Chrissy, Paul was a big fan of facts and statistics.
“There was a guy in the sixties,” Slim offered. “Vietnam vet. Turned out he went off in the woods and shot himself.”
Sam saw that Ricki was halfway through a roast beef platter. “How’s the beef tonight?” he asked.
“Melt in your mouth.”
“I’ll take one of those, Cordelia. And water.” He turned to Ricki, who was usually not part of the Friday night crowd at Molly’s. “What are you up to?”
“Treating myself to dinner. Just dropped my daughter off at the high school for the basketball game.”
“That’s good. Glad she’s making friends.”
“Well, actually I had to force her to go, mean mother that I am.” Ricki pushed the flyer back on the counter and picked up her fork. “What are you working, four to twelve?”
“I started at six-hundred hours with the search party out by Big Bart’s. I’m down one deputy with another on maternity leave, a few more are out with the flu, but this isn’t something I can put off till after Christmas.”
“Does the state have a missing persons unit?”
“Naw. Highway patrol is more focused on the highway. Right now I’m coordinating the multistate search, but if we don’t find her the FBI is probably going to get involved.”
“Coordinating a multistate search and passing out flyers
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