Luke stood and faced Brody directly. So the boy had been missing all night. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. Still, there was no sense jumping to conclusions. “All right, Captain, what have you done to find the child...Andrew?”
“Listen, Scanlin, this is none of your business,” Brody flung back at him, obviously still smarting from the earlier challenge.
Luke didn’t give a damn. “Becky’s child is missing. I’m making it my business.”
Brody slapped his cap on his head and made as if to leave.
Luke blocked his path.
“I asked you a question, mister, and I want an answer. What have you done to find this child?”
Brody took a couple of steps back and looked up at Luke. Rage colored his blue eyes. “Look, Scanlin, you don’t have authority here, and I—” he thumbed his chest, near his badge “—don’t answer to you. I’m handling this just fine.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Luke said, without an ounce of remorse in his voice, “but I do have authority here.” With thumb and forefinger, he peeled back the edge of his gray wool vest to reveal a small silver badge. “U.S. marshal for this region, as of last Monday.”
Brody puffed up like an overstuffed bullfrog. “So?” he sputtered. “This ain’t a federal crime. This is local, and that means it’s my jurisdiction.”
“I wouldn’t let a little thing like a technicality get in the way. Becky’s in trouble. Her son’s in trouble, and that’s all the authority I need. This is personal.” And it was, he realized with a start—very personal.
Brody’s gaze flicked from Luke to Rebecca and back again. “Personal, huh? You and `Becky’ old friends?” he said smugly, in a way that implied something illicit. It implied something that could ruin a lady’s reputation.
Luke grabbed a fistful of blue uniform and yanked the man up close, so close their faces were only inches apart. “I don’t think I like your tone...Captain.” He spit the words out harshly. “The lady and I are friends. You wanna make something more out of it?”
Brody covered Luke’s hand with his own, trying to pry it loose. His pudgy fingers cut into Luke’s knuckles. Luke responded by giving the man a shake. “Now either watch what you say, or you and I can step outside and discuss this more vigorously.”
“Luke, for heaven’s sake,” Rebecca cut in. Luke ignored her this time. No way was he letting this bastard make a remark, start some gossip. He didn’t know much about society, but he knew firsthand how hurtful gossip could be.
Brody’s cheeks were mottled with red. His eyes literally bulged in his face. Through clenched teeth, Luke continued, “Well, what’s it gonna be?” He saw Brody’s gaze dart around the room, as though he were looking for help or an escape.
Luke’s mouth pulled up in a crooked smile that held no warmth, a smile that said there was no escape.
Helplessly Brody bobbed his head up and down like a puppet on a string. “You and her—”
“Who?” Luke demanded.
“Mrs. Tinsdale! You and Mrs. Tinsdale are friends.”
“Damned straight,” Luke snarled. “If I hear anything to the contrary, you and I are gonna tangle, Brody.” Luke released his hold so suddenly the man stumbled back a couple of steps before regaining either his balance or his composure. “Now, answer my question. What have you done to find the boy?”
This time Brody did answer, though to say it was curt would have been an understatement. Luke listened to Brody’s half hearted excuse for a search plan. The man couldn’t find his hat in a room full of spurs. Good thing Luke had spent the past three days looking over the files in the office, the map of the city, police rosters and the like. It was always his habit to familiarize himself with a town. Luke had never thought he’d need his knowledge so quickly, or for such an unhappy reason.
Without hesitation, he said, “Pull the patrolmen from the residential areas. Those are low-risk and can spare the men. Leave the business districts and the, ah...entertainment areas down by the docks at full staff. If there’s any trouble, it’ll be there first. Have the men here within an hour.”
Brody smoothed his rumpled uniform over his belly. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here—”
“I think I’m the man who’s gonna find that boy.” If it wasn’t too late, he thought but didn’t say. Becky looked upset enough, without him adding to it, especially if it wasn’t necessary.
Brody made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. “The men won’t like being pulled off duty to search for some kid who’s probably holed up somewhere, laughing his head off at all the excitement.”
Rebecca spoke up. “Andrew would never—”
Luke cut across her words. “I don’t want to hear your opinions, Brody. Do what I’m telling you, and do it now, dammit!”
Brody slapped his cap on his head and stormed toward the front door. “I’ll see the mayor about this, Scanlin.” He disappeared around the doorway.
“Yeah, well, tell him to wire President Hayes if he’s got any complaints,” Luke snarled. There were some advantages to being a U.S. marshal. Being a presidential appointee was one of them.
Quickly he called out, “Right here, one hour—or I’ll come looking for you.”
The door slammed with glass-rattling force. With an anger he didn’t mean to take out on Rebecca, Luke whirled and said, “I’ll need a room.”
“What?” she muttered. She was still trying to assimilate the fact that Luke was a U.S. marshal. Of all the places in this country that needed a marshal, why did he have to be here—now?
Suddenly his demand penetrated her thoughts. “What do you mean, you want a room? Don’t marshals get offices and quarters?”
“Offices yes, quarters no—”
“Well, you can’t stay here.” she said, meaning more than in this house and more than this minute. She wanted him gone.
“Becky, my room is way the other side of town. The search area is here. I need to be close to the trouble.”
He obviously wasn’t going to go quietly. “Look, I appreciate you helping me with Captain Brody, and I appreciate you wanting to help with the search, but I hardly think you need to stay here.”
She started for the hallway. Luke followed, not bothering to bring along his hat and slicker.
She could be just as determined as he was. Lifting her coat from the mirrored hall tree, she pulled it on. The black wool was expensive and cashmere-soft against the side of her neck.
Luke positioned himself between her and the doorway. “Are you deliberately trying to make this difficult?”
“I’m not.” It was already more difficult than anything should be. With both hands, she pulled her hood up to cover her hair. “Staying here isn’t—”
“Do you want the boy—”
“Andrew.”
“Andrew,” he said with a nod. “Do you want him back or not?” He ran both hands through his hair, leaving furrows in the inky blackness.
“Of course, but—”
“I’m telling you, I need to be here. I need to coordinate with the police, and I can’t do that if I’m running back and forth most of the time. Look, if it’s so troublesome, I’ll camp in the damned front yard. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been cold and dirty.”
She looked up then, saw the determination and the concern mirrored in his