Widow Town by Joe Hart Page B

God, what the hell are we dealing with here, sir?”
    “I’m not sure yet, but we need to bring this to light somehow. If Joslyn’s disappearance is connected to these murders, we have something big on our hands here that stretches back years.” Gray drummed his fingers on the desk and then looked at Ruthers. “Are you sure you’re with me on this, Joseph?”
    Ruthers had a shell-shocked quality to his features, but his eyes cleared after a moment. “With you?”
    “Yes, this theory could lose me my job and you yours if we pursue it. We’ll be ostracized and possibly face charges of some sort if it doesn’t pan out. If you have any second thoughts, let me know and I won’t involve you from this point forward, you can go on patrol and pretend we never talked last night or today.”
    Barely a second passed before Ruthers answered. “Our jo b is to find the truth, right?”
    Gray smiled. “Yes it is.”
    “Then I’m with you.”
    “Good. Make those calls and I’ll see if I can get someone else on our team here,” Gray said picking up the phone.
     
    ~
     
    Gray sipped his bourbon and watched the sun begin to slide behind the tree line to the west. The restaurant’s deck was mostly empty considering the dying day’s heat. Bits of music and conversation filtered to him as a door opened and closed nearby, the clink of glasses and silverware against fine plates. Gray’s fresh dress shirt was beginning to dampen at his chest and stomach and he pulled the light fabric away not wanting to look completely soiled. The cool shower he’d taken a fading memory.
    The afternoon had slid away in a wash of paperwork and regular calls coming in. Several were from concerned citizens who’d finally caught wind of the murders. Mary Jo fielded most of them, assuring the callers that all measures were being taken to ensure the safety of the town.
    Gray finished his drink and pressed the sensor on the table that signaled a waiter inside the restaurant. When he heard the door open and close, he didn’t look up.
    “I’ll take another.”
    “Rough day I ’m guessing.”
    Gray looked up a nd saw Tilly standing beside the table. She looked prettier than he’d ever saw her before, her white and green scrubs traded for a black blouse and a short skirt. She wore viciously pointed high heels on her feet.
    “Sorry, I thought you were the waiter,” Gray said, standing to pull out her chair.
    “I waited tables when I wa s a teenager, it didn’t stick.”
    “You look very nice.”
    “Thanks, so do you.”
    Gray sat again on his side of the table and smiled at her. “Thanks for coming.”
    Tilly nodded once, her eyelashes long in the failing light. “To be honest your call caught me off guard.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Don’t be, I haven’t been someplace this nice in years.”
    “That’s a shame.”
    Tilly gave him a smile and a little light glinted in her eyes. “Yes it is.”
    Their waiter hurried out of the door of the restaurant and took their drink orders in a rush before returning to the a ir conditioning at a half run.
    “No one likes the heat,” Tilly said, fanning h erself with a menu.
    “ I can’t say I’m partial to it.”
    “I don’t mind it, it’s better than the cold that’s coming in a few months.”
    “See, we’r e opposites. I like the fall best of all the seasons. The cool air helps keep the peace. Heat enrages people.”
    “Excites others,” Tilly said, crossing her legs. She adjusted her skirt and Gray managed to keep his eyes above the table as their waiter came back with their drinks, leaving as soon he’d placed them on the table. Gray sipped from his glass and looked off toward the setting sun, an open furnace behind the trees.
    “It was never this hot when my father was a kid,” he said after a time.
    “No, my mother still complains about the heat and mentions the cool er summers when she was young.”
    “Too many things have changed, the ear th’s heating up because of it.”
    “The