Dead Aim. Anne Woodard

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      “No. But it’s all I have right now.” He glanced at his watch, then pushed his chair back from the table. “And I need to get moving if I’m going to learn any more. The Good Times bar was closed when I went by this afternoon, but they ought to be open by now. I’m hoping somebody there will know who the guy was that Tina was talking to the night she disappeared.”

      Maggie was faster onto her feet. “Finish your sandwich. I’ll take you there. I know the people who work there and a lot of the regulars. But I have to call my boss first. Okay?”

      He almost refused. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, he sank back in his chair.

      “Thanks. Having you along really might help. I appreciate the offer.”

      As she walked away, he found himself leaning forward so he could see around that damned potted plant. She had a graceful, long-legged stride that was real easy to watch, and she wore jeans like they’d been tailored just for her.

      He’d always liked women and enjoyed being with them, but there was something about Maggie that stirred his blood in ways that weren’t easy to ignore. And crazy as it seemed, just the thought of having her along made him feel a little more optimistic. He was used to hunting bears, not people, especially not people he cared for. At least Maggie knew Tina and the people at the bar. That was something, anyway.

      After a brief word with the guy behind the counter, Maggie disappeared into the back room, and Rick settled back in his chair to wait.

      Since he had nothing better to do, he pulled the now-cold cup of coffee to him, then picked up his sandwich. He started to take a bite, but something on the street outside caught his attention. The fine hairs at the back of his neck pricked, warning of danger.

      He set the sandwich down and scanned the sidewalk in front of Joe’s. Nothing there but strangers hurrying past, shoulders hunched against the wind and cold. He almost put it down to nerves and weariness and too much time spent in the wilderness looking for grizzlies when he spotted the man standing on the other side of the pedestrian mall.

      Unlike the other passersby, the fellow seemed oblivious to the cold. He wore a down vest over a chambray work shirt and well-worn jeans. A Stetson pulled low obscured his features, but Rick recognized him easily.

      What he couldn’t figure was why the Fenton’s chief of police should be standing out there in the dark and the cold, studying him like a hunter studying his prey.

      Chapter 2

      Her call was picked up on the first ring.

      “It’s me,” Maggie said.

      There was a pause at the other end of the line as her listener confirmed there were no bugs on the line, then a brusque, “Talk.”

      She shifted in the battered office chair to get a better view of the short hall outside the coffee shop’s cramped office. Steve was busy behind the front counter, but Sharon Digby, the other employee due on tonight, had a useful habit of coming in early.

      “Dornier’s brother’s here,” she said, keeping her voice low.

      That caught her listener’s attention. “Her brother? He was in Montana yesterday. We checked.”

      “Yeah, well he’s here now, and he’s already been around town talking to people. His mother called him. He must have driven all night to get here.”

      “Great. Just great.” Another pause at the end of the line. “Is he going to be a problem?”

      The door from the shop opened. Maggie craned for a better look, then slid back a ways, out of sight. She waited until she heard the rest room door lock behind the customer before she spoke again.

      “He hit the police station. Bursey spun him some story about college kids and hormones being more appealing than class work.”

      “He talked to Bursey?”

      “Bursey talked to him. Made a point of it.”

      More silence while her listener digested that information. Then, “You think he knows anything?”

      “No.” She thought about that, then added, “Not yet. Playing cop isn’t his thing, but he’s smart and tough.”

      “Guess you’d have to be if you chase grizzlies for a living.” There wasn’t any humor behind the words.

      “He’s worried about his sister.”

      She fell silent at the sound of a toilet flushing, then water running. The rest room door opened, followed by footsteps heading back. The noise of conversation and the espresso machine working rose as the hall door opened, then dimmed as it swung shut. She craned to be sure the customer was gone, waiting for the confirming click of the latch as the door closed behind them.

      “He’s planning on visiting Good Times tonight,” she said at last. “I’m going with him.”

      “All right. But keep a sharp eye on him. We can’t afford to have any trouble at this point in the game.”

      Maggie frowned at the cluttered bulletin board on the wall above the desk, annoyed. “Anything else you want to tell me? Like how to tie my shoes or blow my nose?”

      “Don’t be so damned touchy. And yeah, there’s something I want to tell you. Don’t go off on your own. You’re not a superhero.”

      She grinned. “Wanna bet?”

      “Dammit!”

      “You can say that again.” This time, she wasn’t smiling.

      She set the receiver back in its cradle without bothering to say goodbye.

      She knew exactly what he’d meant.

      Dornier had his jacket on and was waiting near the counter when Maggie emerged. He looked a little tired, but Maggie would swear she sensed a tension in him that hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier. He didn’t say anything, however, and she didn’t ask.

      “Steve, I’ve gotta go,” she said to the young man behind the counter. “Sharon should be in shortly. Think you can handle things until then?”

      Steve grinned. “Sure. You know me.”

      Maggie blew him a teasing kiss. Her odd hours and occasional, abrupt departures had raised a few eyebrows at the beginning, but everyone was used to them by now. She’d worked hard to make sure they were.

      She turned to Rick Dornier and found him studying her.

      Again there was that odd jolt of intense awareness.

      There was nothing rude or even particularly sexual in the way he looked at her, yet still it unsettled her. It was one thing for him to be attracted to her—that might prove useful. But the last thing she needed now was to be as conscious of him as a man as he was of her as a woman.

      She forced the feeling down. She couldn’t afford to let anything distract her or throw her off balance. Not right now.

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