Page 24 of By the Book

“In the front?” My mom sounded scandalized. “He’s not an amateur, darling.”

“On account of our agéd and decrepit bodies.”

They both got a good laugh out of that one.

“How about a nice, simple, straightforward execution?” I asked. “Is that an option?”

Bobby’s face was unreadable in the moonlight.

“Oh! Do you know who would love this?” my mom said. “Hugo!”

“Forget the execution,” I said. “I’ll just jump off the cliff.”

“Dash, get a picture of Bobby arresting us.” My mom was checking her hair in the big windows as she said this. “Bobby, you’ll have to tell us all about the time Hugo and Dash were sneaking around outside that house. From what I understand, you gave them quite the dressing-down.”

“Tore their hides off,” my dad put in. “That’s how Hugo put it.”

“I think right now—” Bobby began.

“You don’t have to tell them anything,” I said. “Let’s go, Bobby—we’re leaving. And we’ll call this in, and another deputy can arrest them.”

“We’re trying to get to know him,” my dad said.

“Yes.” My mom made a shooing gesture at me. “Let Hugo talk.”

The pause that came next wasn’t silent, because of the waves and the wind. And because of my blood boiling in my ears.

“Bobby,” my mom said. “Let Bobby talk.”

I opened my mouth.

“Walk it off,” Bobby said in a tone that didn’t leave room for argument. “I’m going to handle this.” And then, in case I didn’t get the message, he gave me a little nudge.

It was enough to get me moving, and my legs responded automatically, carrying me forward. My steps sounded hollow on the deck.

Behind me, Bobby said in that same voice, “I think we’re done here. I’m going to walk you to your RV.”

“Assertive,” my dad said. “Clear. Nice and direct. And did you notice how he didn’t lose his cool? That’s good stuff. You wouldn’t believe how many manuscripts I look at that have trained law enforcement officers hopping around and waving their arms and shouting their heads off.”

“Not to mention he seems like a good foil to Dash’s energy,” my mom said. “Unflappable. A bit stern. No coddling, thank God.”

“Have you ever thought about doing informational sessions, trainings, that kind of thing, with writers? I’d love to set you up with some friends of mine—who am I kidding? I could use some help too.”

Maybe, I thought, there was a limit to Bobby’s patience. There had to be, right? Everyone ran out of patience eventually. So, in theory, this nightmare couldn’t go on forever. Sooner or later, Bobby would get fed up and shoot them, and then we could go home, and I’d sleep for a week.

Movement in one of the enormous windows caught my eye. Startled, I turned toward it, with the half-formed thought that I had no idea how I was going to explain this mess. But it was only my reflection. On the other side of the glass, a spacious room was surprisingly well lit. Or maybe not so surprisingly—this side of the house faced the ocean, so most of the walls had been given over to windows to take advantage of the view. All those windows meant a lot of ambient light made its way into the house. It was hard to tell colors in the low light, but everything was pale and clean and modern—shiplap and high plank ceilings and furniture that managed to look trendy and comfortable at the same time. I was looking into what had to be one of the main living areas of the house, with plush sofas, a pool table, and a massive TV. A glass of what I thought must be wine sat on a small table next to one of the sofas. Maybe the mayor had wanted a drink before bed; she’d been upset from the argument with Mrs. Shufflebottom. Or, maybe, she’d been a little worked up because she’d just stolen an irreplaceable diary.

I started to turn back to my parents and Bobby. I could hear Bobby repeating himself in a low, clear voice—stern was actuallya very good word for it, and I wondered what it said about me that it, uh, did something for me. And then I saw the hand.

It stuck out beyond the edge of the sofa. Aside from being white, I couldn’t tell anything else at that distance. For several seconds, I stared, trying to decide if I was hallucinating (obviously because I was hysterical with rage from dealing with my parents). Then I said, “Bobby.”

He cut off and trotted over to me. I pointed through the glass.

A full second passed, and he said, “Call it in.”

“What is it?” my mom asked.

“I knew Dash would find something,” my dad said. “Dash, what did you find?” Without waiting for an answer, he added, “You’re doing a great job.”

---