Page 21 of The Map Home
“The usual?” Greg asked him.
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
“A large Americano with one ice cube, a shake of cinnamon, and room for cream? Does that sound about right? And are you having a glazed or plain donut today?”
“Er, plain is fine.”
Good god, he was turning into a real cop, one who drank too much coffee and survived on donuts. He moved to the pickup area at the end of the counter to wait for his goodies. Greg and his staff were fast; it was only a few minutes before Dakota was handed his snack by a scrawny teenager. He wrapped his fingers around the hot to-go cup and tucked the bagged donut into his coat pocket, then stepped back outside.
“Ho, ho, ho,” yet another random Santa called out as he brushed past Dakota. This one had a lumpy cloth bag slung over his shoulder, and Dakota could smell the fact he hadn’t used enough deodorant that morning. Maybe it was the costume. Who would want to get near that guy?
“Ho, fucking, ho,” Dakota murmured, wrinkling his nose.
Without missing a beat, Santa Claus lifted his free hand and flipped Dakota the bird as he walked off. Dakota was mildly shocked by the gesture. Could Santas do that? Weren’t they supposed to be the epitome of jolly and happy? Not that Dakotadidn’t agree with the sentiment. This Santa strode to the end of the block and disappeared around another corner.
“Good fucking riddance.”
There were decidedly fewer people milling about now that it was dark and getting even colder, Dakota realized. The craft part of the fair was finished, the lights on the tree had finally been turned on, and the obligatoryoohsandaahshad been uttered. There were folks still standing around chatting as if they hadn’t seen each other all day, but the end was in sight.
Dakota assumed Tad had been by and gotten the shots of the tree he needed. He’d probably had just missed seeing Tad in the crowd. He was irritated that he’d been at the opposite end of the square when Penny and Waylon donated their load of toys, the only part of the ceremony he’d been interested in. Yeah, he felt like a major grinch, but he was cold and tired of peopling—how much smiling was enough smiling?
Finishing his coffee, Dakota tossed the cup into the trash and shoved the final too-large bite of his donut into his mouth just as his radio crackled to life.
“Ghween hsph.”
“Repeat? What was that?” It was Sheriff Morgan again.
Dakota swallowed as fast as he could, wishing he had more coffee to wash it down with.
“Sorry, donut,” he rasped. “Green here.”
“Ah, yes, the case of the donut and the deputy. Anyway, sorry to abruptly end your break. Ben and I are over at Asher’s spread,” Morgan was saying. “The Chaos Twins and a couple of their minions are here, buck naked—something I don’t need to see again in my lifetime, thank you very much—and drunk off their asses. I know you were close to being done with your shift, but I’m pulling rank. After I give them a stern lecture and transport them to the station, I want you to come in and finish up the paperwork. For Christmas, these yahoos aregetting community service for the rest of their lives. Idiots.” The irritation in Sheriff Morgan’s tone was loud and clear.
“I’ll be right there.” Dakota suppressed a smile, even if Sheriff Morgan couldn’t see him. Morgan had predicted that they—Jordan and his crew—would be trouble, and he hadn’t been wrong. Probably was why he got paid the big bucks.
Admittedly, paperwork was Dakota’s least favorite part of the job, but at least he had something to do now besides hang around feeling like he was spying on people and just waiting for something to happen. As he walked back to the cruiser, Dakota kept an eye out for Tad, but there was no sign of him.
Maybe Tad worried that Dakota was upset about the “get married when we’re thirty” thing? Nah. He was pretty sure that wasn’t it. Tad had been acting totally normal—for Tad anyway, Dakota thought with another grin—when he’d left the bonfire last night. Nope, Tad was fine, he assured himself.
Somehow,Nick and Jordan had convinced a friend to come and pick them up from the station—Dakota seriously wished he could’ve been a fly on the wall forthatconversation. He held the station door open for the sheepish and still slightly drunk streakers. The sun had been on its way down when he arrived, and it now was pitch dark. Paperwork sucked.
“Try and stay out of trouble,” Dakota muttered at their backs.
He was rewarded with a thumbs-up from Jordan and nods from both of them as they got into the back of an extended cab pickup waiting in the parking lot.
He’d already clocked off and was about to leave the station when his cell phone vibrated from the side pocket of his pants. Pulling it out, he pressed Accept.
“Hey, Tad, where were?—”
“Dakota,” Tad whispered, “where are you?”
“At the station, just heading home.” Dakota instinctively dropped his voice as well.
Why was Tad whispering? What the hell was going on?
“Get down here, ASAP.”
“Where is here?”
