Dead Ringer. Sharon Dunn

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      Even as he ambled toward his car, Eli’s muscles tensed. So much pointed to Greg Jackson in terms of past behavior. His instant suspicion of Eli was just one more personality indicator. Would he be able to keep Lucy safe? Eli started his engine and shifted into Reverse. Greg and Lucy were just getting into the car as Eli pulled onto the gravel road.

      When he phoned into the Mountain Springs police station, Officer O’Bannon answered. He had met O’Bannon only briefly. He was an older officer who was probably a few years from retirement. Since his arrival from Spokane, he had spent most of his time briefing all the small-town police departments and figuring out how he was going to shift manpower around to keep eyes on the suspects for the maximum amount of time.

      After Eli explained the circumstances of the surveillance to O’Bannon, he added, “I don’t know the name of the park.”

      “There are only two parks in town.” O’Bannon’s husky voice hinted of a longtime smoking habit. “Chances are they’re headed to Memorial Park. It’s got gazebos and borders the river. The other one is more of a kid park with swings and stuff.”

      “You can check the file to see a picture of Greg Jackson. He’s driving a gold Buick LeSabre, late eighties model. First two digits of the license are 67. You go ahead and get into position. Tell Peterson I will meet him at the station. Jackson might recognize my car so I need to switch.”

      “And who is the lady he is with? I’ve lived here some twenty years. I know most everyone. Is she a local gal?”

      Eli hesitated. Lucy had implied that she didn’t have a lot of faith in the Mountain Springs police. “Lucy Kimbol.”

      Eli listened to phone static while he turned onto a paved road. So the ill feelings between Lucy and the department were mutual.

      Finally O’Bannon huffed an “Oh, really.”

      On the night of his arrival, two of the officers had pushed hard for him to handle the call from Lucy. O’Bannon had been one of them. Officer Spitz, the other older officer, had been the other. Lucy sure wasn’t going to tell him the root of the animosity. “What is it with you guys and Lucy Kimbol?”

      Again, O’Bannon’s response was long in coming. “Let’s just say Lucy Kimbol is a troublemaker and she has been since she was in high school.”

      As much as he wanted to get to the bottom of the bad blood between Lucy and the department, Eli didn’t press the issue. He needed O’Bannon’s cooperation tonight.

      Eli drove into town and pulled into the police station lot. The sky had turned a dark gray when he stepped out of his car. Officer Nigel Peterson, a young officer with red hair, was waiting for him outside.

      Peterson held up a gear bag. “Camera, binoculars and two-way radios.”

      Normally surveillance involved scouting an area ahead of time. Doing the surveillance on the fly meant there wouldn’t be time to set up audio or video equipment. An open area like a park wasn’t conducive to that kind of setup anyway.

      Eli slipped into the car with Peterson. The drive to the park took all of five minutes. O’Bannon was waiting there for them. Judging from the jowls and paunch, O’Bannon had to at least be in his late fifties. He had a full head of black wavy hair and a muscular build. Jackson’s car wasn’t in the lot when they pulled in.

      A quick assessment of the layout of the park caused the tightness to return to Eli’s chest. Other than a small pavilion with picnic tables and two gazebos, the ground was more forest than park. The landscape provided a thousand places where someone could disappear from view.

      A quick scan of the area revealed about ten to twelve people walking dogs, sitting on benches and eating at picnic tables. A couple emerged from a clump of trees. It wasn’t Jackson and Lucy. Her blue sundress would make her easy enough to keep track of.