“We share children,” she said. “This coming weekend was Gary’s weekend to have them, but he needed to switch.”
“Why?”
She’d wondered the same thing. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal to switch. But because she would be busy catering the wedding, she’d pushed back a little. That had seemed to set him off. “I don’t know.”
“So after you left the church, you went straight home?”
“Yes.” It dawned on her that the chief hadn’t asked any questions about what had happened at the church between her and Gary. Was it because Julie had given him enough that he’d realized that his second-in-command might have been in the wrong and he didn’t want any additional documentation of the fact?
And speaking of documentation, the chief wasn’t making any notes. He had yet to pull his notebook from his pocket. In his left breast pocket, he had the same kind of notebook that Gary never went anywhere without. Once, early on in the marriage, she hadn’t realized that he hadn’t removed it from his pocket and she’d put it in the washing machine. That had caused a crisis that involved attempting to dry out thirty or so small pages because he’d needed those quick notations to fill out the endless reports that he’d hated.
Maybe the chief had a really good memory. Or maybe he realized that she didn’t have anything to gain by harming Gary.
“And did you have any visitors last night?” he asked.
She wasn’t trained in police work, but thought she might be a better interrogator than the chief. He clearly already knew that she had indeed had a visitor. Perhaps he’d already spoken to Mrs. Hudder. Or to Bray.
He’d been upset when he’d left her house. She’d known that he was having difficulty dealing with what she’d told him. Had he taken out his anger on Gary?
Had Bray become sucked into the tangled relationship that she had with her ex? It was a horrifying thought. When would her bad decisions stop hurting Bray Hollister?
She was confident that he would tell the truth, that he would not run from it. He’d always had more character than her. “Bray Hollister stopped by. He didn’t stay long. Then I fixed my children dinner, watched some television and went to bed by ten.”
“Can anyone verify that you were home all evening?” he asked.
Had she been wrong about his intent? Was she really a...suspect? She pressed her hand to her empty stomach.
Hell, yes, there were times I wanted him gone, she wanted to say. But admitting that she’d spent valuable time she didn’t have as a single parent imagining how nice it would be if he would simply disappear wasn’t going to help her.
“No,” she said. “But I was.” She looked through the small window in the door and saw that four new customers had come in while she’d been talking with the chief. They were looking around, staring wistfully at the coffeepot, probably wondering where the heck she was. “I really need to get back to the dining room,” she said. As Milo flipped his pancakes, he was slapping the flat end of his stainless-steel spatula on the hot grill, letting her know that he was watching and ready to assist if she needed it.
“Just a couple more questions,” Chief Poole said, holding up his hand. “Has Gary ever done this before, just disappear unexpectedly?”
Once or twice toward the end of their marriage, he’d been gone for a few days. Getting his head together. That was what he always told her. She suspected that involved a stack of chips and a deck of cards, but by then, she hadn’t really cared enough to probe.
“Sometimes to fish or to gamble.” It dawned on her that the chief probably knew Gary as well as she did. That made this an even more awkward conversation.
The chief nodded. “I probably should check to see if his rods are still there.”
She didn’t say anything, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.
“Do you know anybody who had a particular beef with Gary?”
She sighed. “He’s been a cop in the same community for more than fifteen years. I imagine there are any number of people who aren’t fond of him. The speed trap out by the high school is particularly irritating and probably hasn’t endeared him to many.”
“Anybody with a complaint more serious than a moving violation?”
“You’d know better about that than me,” she said.
“I may want to talk to your children.”
“Not without me, and not until I’ve talked to them first,” she said, her voice stern. She didn’t care if he was the police chief.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said. He took a step. Stopped. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this conversation between us,” he said. “You know how gossip spreads in Ravesville.”
She did. And it would make people uneasy if they thought that something had happened to one of their police officers.
She nodded, and Chief Poole pushed open the swinging door, walked the length of the café and left through the front entrance. Thirty seconds later, Summer followed him out of the kitchen, smiling, greeting customers, putting on the show of her life. But her head was whirling. So much so that she delivered eggs instead of French toast to one of her favorite customers. Apologizing profusely, she ran back to the kitchen to get the order replaced.
“What’s going on?” Milo asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” Summer promised.
She took another quick minute to pull her cell phone from her pocket. She pressed the button for Gary’s number. It went straight to voice mail. She waited for the beep. “Gary, it’s Summer. Listen, please call me. It’s important.” She pressed End.
Maybe she should call Trish, too. She knew Gary pretty well. Maybe she would have some ideas.
No. It wasn’t the type of news a person delivered over the phone.
Was the chief serious that he intended to talk to her kids? Would he wait and give Gary time to show himself?
For the first time in a very long time, she wished she could suddenly make Gary appear. What the hell was he up to now? Was it possible that he was really in trouble? Did this have anything to do with the absolutely horrible mood he’d been in?
She had lots of questions and no answers. She went back to the dining area and cleared two dirty tables.
She heard the soft tinkle of a bell and looked to the front door. Bray Hollister, his expression giving nothing away, walked in and took a seat at the counter. He wore blue jeans, a blue-and-gray flannel shirt, a dark gray insulated vest and cowboy boots. Every woman’s eyes in the place followed him, whether they were twenty years old or sixty. He positively oozed sex appeal.
She contemplated going back to the kitchen for the rest of her life. “Morning,” she said, mindful that just three stools away were other customers. “Coffee?” she asked, holding up the pot.
Bray nodded.
She poured the cup and slid it in his direction. He took a sip. “Busy day?” he asked.
“Busy enough,” she said.
“Had a visit from the chief yet?” His voice was pitched low.
“Yeah. You?”
He nodded. “Are you doing okay?” he asked.
No. She was a mess. “I think so.”
“Got anything you need to tell me?” he asked.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t touch your ex.”
She believed him.