Page 9 of Justice for Daesha

He was shocked as he watched the young man’s face darken and his eyes go sad. “Don’t hurt her. She’s a very nice person and she’s had enough hurt for a lifetime.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed to the server’s stand where the card reader was located.

The server knew her. He bet if he asked, the owner knew her too. After signing the ticket, he headed to his car, and he decided that donut didn’t sound so bad after all. Pulling up in the parking lot, he ambled in and looked in the cases. A young girl of about seventeen asked, “Can I help you?”

“Sure. I think I’ll have one of those right there,” he said, pointing to a Bavarian cream with chocolate glazing. “Oh, and one of those too. And two of those right there.” He’d intended to buyadonut, not a dozen, but they were beautiful and smelled amazing. “Plus three glazed, three cream-filled with vanilla icing, and two of those pretty chocolate cake ones with the fancy frosting.” As the employee boxed the donuts, he decided to step out on a limb. “I know the owner’s daughter, and she told me to come down here and take a look.”

“MissDaesha?” the girl asked, glancing up at him with a smile.

“Yeah. Just met her last night at my brother’s reception.”

“I love her. She’s so kind and sweet. The whole family is. They’re really nice people.”

“So you know them all?”

“I’ve known them since I was a very little girl. MissDaesha’s dad and my grandpa are friends. I hate what happened to her sister. I was a little bitty kid then and I don’t remember it, but everybody else does. And her poor mama. She died a few years back and they didn’t find out who killed Dorinda before Mrs.Wilkerson died. Very sad.”

“So I heard.” He waited as the girl rang it up.

“Three dollars and eighteen cents.”

“Wait.” Amos looked at the board above the counter. “According to that sign, they should be over nine dollars with tax.”

“Nope. You know MissDaesha, so you get a discount. That’s how we do it here.” She held out her hand. “Three dollars and eighteen cents.”

“But I’ll pay?”

“No. We insist. We like it when hometown people help support the business. That’s all I’m charging you, sir.”

Amos was stunned. The donuts were beautiful and he knew they’d be delicious. And what a kind thing to do for him! “Have you got a tip jar?” The girl pointed to it, and Amos dropped a five dollar bill into it.

“Wow! Thank you, sir! I appreciate it!”

“You’re welcome. Have a nice day.” Carrying his prize, he headed for his car. Yeah, he’d paid almost full price with the tip, but that girl deserved it. She was just a kid, and she’d been very friendly and cheerful.

On Tuesday evening, Daesha was cooking dinner for him, and he wondered what her house would be like. Then he thought about those lips.What would it be like to kiss her?he mused in his head.Shut that down, Fletcher. Nope. Not going there.He’d just look at the files, have dinner, and that would be it. If there was anything else to the case, he’d take them with him and work on it, but he wasn’t getting involved with DaeshaWilkerson.

He simply couldn’t.

Chapter 2

Monday had been hell.They were investigating a sheriff down in the western end of the state. Scratch that?they were prosecuting a sheriff in the western end of the state. And he was being totally uncooperative. Nothing surprising there, but dealing with idiots wasn’t something Amos really enjoyed.

Tuesday was a little better. Of course, that was a matter of perspective. They had sensitivity training in a videoconference with an expert in human trafficking victims. When it came to those victims, you couldn’t be too sensitive.

But it was very depressing stuff, looking at photos of situations trafficking victims had been in, seeing how they’d been injured, and discussing in the comments what could be done to help them from the moment they were recovered from their situation to the time when they were turned over to medical personnel. He was ready for something else.

And then he remembered?looking at a woman’s dead sister’s body in photographs and going over her information. God, that was something he wasn’t looking forward to, and yet he’d promised Daesha.

He was almost home and thinking about what he’d change into when his phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he got those all the time. Sometimes they were telemarketers, but sometimes they were about cases, so he figured he’d better answer it. “Hello?”

“Amos?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Yes?”

“It’s Daesha.”

“Oh! How’d you get… Jack. Right?”

She laughed. “Yeah. I called him and asked.”

---