front and center on the right side so she’d be next to the driver’s window as the car came through. I reluctantly followed.
As the vehicle got closer, there was no doubt it was the sheriff’s vehicle and Jerry was behind the wheel. We exchanged glances, but there was no opportunity for much else as media people swarmed the truck.
Butting aside seasoned news reporters, Lucille grabbed on to the truck’s door. “Now, Jerry Don Parker, I need to have a word with you. I want to know just exactly what’s going on around here. What makes you think something’s happened to Bob?” Lucille leaned closer to the car window. “And who’s that in there with you? Is that a witness in there with you? Is she the one that saw the foul play? ”
Lights flashed and reporters shoved microphones toward the open sheriff’s car, the swarm trying to nudge Lucille aside. Mother didn’t budge and Jerry didn’t respond to any of their questions immediately. The gritty glare he sent in my direction, however, spoke volumes as he has been down this road with Lucille before. When he still said nothing, I figured I should get a look at his passenger and foul play witness for future reference. About a year ago I would have assumed that none of this was my concern and I would have kept my nose out of it. I am much wiser now.
Engaging my journalistic objectivity, I jostled myself away from a pushy cameraman who was filming a reporter giving the short version. I finally heard what she was saying, “Local businessman and rancher Robert John Little is believed to be missing. The Little Ranch is the site of a proposed private camping park that has drawn protests from some local residents. The Bowman County sheriff’s office has been at the home investigating.” The well-dressed woman turned around and shoved the microphone toward the vehicle where Jerry sat. “Can you tell us what you found, Sheriff?”
I leaned around Mother to get a better look at Jerry.
I blinked, frowned and then looked again.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head.
A barely-out-of-her-teens girl with auburn hair peeked out from beneath a floppy straw hat. She was clearly trying to avoid the cameras, but I still saw her put her finger to her lips in a universal signal to keep my mouth shut.
I am very certain that I did not keep my mouth shut. In fact, I’m pretty sure it was flopping open and shut like a carp sucking reeds. She didn’t need to worry about me saying anything though. I couldn’t. In fact, I could barely gasp.
Jerry Don Parker mumbled something to the reporters that amounted to “no comment,” then promptly sped away.
With my daughter in the passenger seat.
Chapter
Seven
“ Now, Jolene, don’t you be getting all upset,” Lucille said, racing along behind me. “Remember what I told you yesterday at the cemetery, about people doing things and needing to hear their explanations before you go jumping to conclusions. You remember that?”
Oh, I remembered. I’d also just had a refresher in what it feels like to be gutted like a fish too. I was remembering that really well at the moment and I didn’t like it. “I suggest you start explaining,” I said, hurrying toward the car. She didn’t respond immediately, but I knew she was still right behind me. “You’d better start talking, and fast.”
“Now, Jolene,” Lucille hollered, sprinting along quite deftly behind me. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” I said, pulling the car keys out of my pocket as I marched toward the car.
“Well, with that imagination of yours, and your insecurities and such, well, I suppose you might be thinking there’s something untoward going on with Sarah and Jerry Don, which of course there isn’t, it is strictly business.”
I shot her a glare and kept walking. “And exactly what business would that be and how would you know about it?”
“Well, I guess I don’t exactly know.”
Oh, she knew. My
As the vehicle got closer, there was no doubt it was the sheriff’s vehicle and Jerry was behind the wheel. We exchanged glances, but there was no opportunity for much else as media people swarmed the truck.
Butting aside seasoned news reporters, Lucille grabbed on to the truck’s door. “Now, Jerry Don Parker, I need to have a word with you. I want to know just exactly what’s going on around here. What makes you think something’s happened to Bob?” Lucille leaned closer to the car window. “And who’s that in there with you? Is that a witness in there with you? Is she the one that saw the foul play? ”
Lights flashed and reporters shoved microphones toward the open sheriff’s car, the swarm trying to nudge Lucille aside. Mother didn’t budge and Jerry didn’t respond to any of their questions immediately. The gritty glare he sent in my direction, however, spoke volumes as he has been down this road with Lucille before. When he still said nothing, I figured I should get a look at his passenger and foul play witness for future reference. About a year ago I would have assumed that none of this was my concern and I would have kept my nose out of it. I am much wiser now.
Engaging my journalistic objectivity, I jostled myself away from a pushy cameraman who was filming a reporter giving the short version. I finally heard what she was saying, “Local businessman and rancher Robert John Little is believed to be missing. The Little Ranch is the site of a proposed private camping park that has drawn protests from some local residents. The Bowman County sheriff’s office has been at the home investigating.” The well-dressed woman turned around and shoved the microphone toward the vehicle where Jerry sat. “Can you tell us what you found, Sheriff?”
I leaned around Mother to get a better look at Jerry.
I blinked, frowned and then looked again.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head.
A barely-out-of-her-teens girl with auburn hair peeked out from beneath a floppy straw hat. She was clearly trying to avoid the cameras, but I still saw her put her finger to her lips in a universal signal to keep my mouth shut.
I am very certain that I did not keep my mouth shut. In fact, I’m pretty sure it was flopping open and shut like a carp sucking reeds. She didn’t need to worry about me saying anything though. I couldn’t. In fact, I could barely gasp.
Jerry Don Parker mumbled something to the reporters that amounted to “no comment,” then promptly sped away.
With my daughter in the passenger seat.
Chapter
Seven
“ Now, Jolene, don’t you be getting all upset,” Lucille said, racing along behind me. “Remember what I told you yesterday at the cemetery, about people doing things and needing to hear their explanations before you go jumping to conclusions. You remember that?”
Oh, I remembered. I’d also just had a refresher in what it feels like to be gutted like a fish too. I was remembering that really well at the moment and I didn’t like it. “I suggest you start explaining,” I said, hurrying toward the car. She didn’t respond immediately, but I knew she was still right behind me. “You’d better start talking, and fast.”
“Now, Jolene,” Lucille hollered, sprinting along quite deftly behind me. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” I said, pulling the car keys out of my pocket as I marched toward the car.
“Well, with that imagination of yours, and your insecurities and such, well, I suppose you might be thinking there’s something untoward going on with Sarah and Jerry Don, which of course there isn’t, it is strictly business.”
I shot her a glare and kept walking. “And exactly what business would that be and how would you know about it?”
“Well, I guess I don’t exactly know.”
Oh, she knew. My
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