wondered, storming back to the kitchen, or did he present an actual threat of some sort?
She considered calling Boone, not as a citizen of Parable County, but as a friend, but she quickly disregarded the impulse. The sheriff had a wide area to police and, besides, sending rude emails wasn’t a crime. If it were, she thought, with a tight little smile, she’d probably be in the slammer herself, with Brylee and her posse for company.
Kendra brewed that second cup of tea she’d promised herself earlier and sat down to drink it, silently reminding herself that she didn’t have to make all her life decisions that very night, or the next day, or even next year.
She would stop pushing the river, as the saying went, and just let things unfold at their own pace—even if it killed her.
* * *
BOONE AND HUTCH met at the Butter Biscuit Café for breakfast the next morning, both ordering the special, as they did whenever they had a free morning, their joking excuse being that they shouldn’t be expected to eat their own cooking day in and day out just because they weren’t married.
“Did McQuillan go ahead and file charges against Walker Parrish?” Hutch asked, looking across the table at Boone while they waited for the first round of coffee.
“Hell, yes,” Boone said, looking as weary as he sounded. His kids were due to arrive soon, probably on an afternoon bus, and while he seemed anxious to see them, it was obvious that he was already dreading the whole thing, too. “I would have had to arrest Walker, except I called Judge Renson ahead of time and she went ahead and set bail before the fact. Walker paid it, of course, so he didn’t wind up in my jail, but he still has to go to court in six weeks or so and answer to an assault charge.”
Hutch sighed, swore under his breath. “I’ve always wondered why Slade didn’t fire McQuillan when he was sheriff. Now I’m wondering the same thing about you, old buddy. The man’s a hothead—the original loose cannon—not to mention a pain in the ass.”
“It’s not that simple,” Boone answered, “and you damn well know it. We’re all civil service, remember, and while my recommendation carries some weight, the powers that be aren’t going to let Treat go on the grounds that nobody likes him.”
The pancakes arrived, stacks of them, teetering on two plates, and Essie herself did the honors, setting the meals down in front of Hutch and Boone with a deft swoop of each arm.
“On the house,” she said, with a sidelong glance at Boone. “Even if you did give my favorite niece a speeding ticket last week. Now her insurance premium will go up.”
Boone chuckled hoarsely, distractedly. “It’s Carmody’s turn to pick up the check anyhow,” he said, then added, “Tell Laurie to keep her foot out of the carburetor of that little car of hers and poof, the problem’s solved. No more tickets.”
Essie shook her head as though she wouldn’t have expected any other reaction from the boneheaded likes of Boone Taylor, and walked away.
“Looking forward to seeing your boys again?” Hutch asked after they’d both drenched their buttery pancakes in thick syrup.
“Of course I am,” Boone snapped, downright peckish now. “I just wish I had a better place to put them up, that’s all.”
“There’s no better place than home, Boone, and as far as those little boys are concerned, home is wherever you are.”
Boone glowered at him over the towering pancakes. “Excuse me for saying so,” he growled, “but you don’t know F-all about raising kids, now do you?”
Hutch slanted the side of his fork through the syrupy stack on his plate. “You’re already moderating your language,” he observed lightly. “That’s good. Can’t have the munchkins picking up all kinds of dirty words from dear old Dad.”
“Shut up,” Boone said without much conviction.
Hutch chuckled and took a big bite of his food. While he was still chewing, Slade wandered into the café, taking off his hat as he crossed the threshold.
Hutch waved him over and Slade joined them, drawing back a chair and sinking into it.
“Ever since you stole Opal out from under us,” Slade told Hutch, probably only half kidding, “I’ve been having cold cereal for breakfast.”
“What a pity.” Hutch grinned with mock sympathy. “Poor you.”
“How’re Joslyn and the baby doing?” Boone asked between bites.
At the mere mention of his wife and child, a light seemed to go on inside Slade. His eyes twinkled