Page 23 of Deputy Brand Gets Her Man
“Okay,” she said. But her eyes clung, and Willow thought she needed something more.
“I don’t think this is anyone who wants to hurt you,” she said. “They’d do more than break a window, you know? But if you don’t feel safe, maybe stay at a hotel or a friend’s place for a few nights. If we’re lucky, I’ll catch this person in the meantime.”
She nodded rapidly, sighing in relief. Maybe she’d just needed validation that it wasn’t overreacting to stay elsewhere overnight. “That’s what I’ll do. Yeah, I’ll pack a bag right now and go to Mom’s.” She turned to go back into the house, but then stopped, and slowly faced Willow again. Willow noticed her fists clenched at her sides. “Do you…could you stay until I get out of here? It’ll only take me a few minutes to pack a bag.”
“Okay. Sure. I’ll just sit here in the car, okay? Unless you want me to come back in?”
“The car’s fine.” She spun on her heel and went back inside.
So Willow got into her SUV, cranked up the AC, and made some notes for her report. Someone rapped her window out of nowhere, startling her. She looked around fast, but no one was there, just a walking stick with a brass handle. It drew back to rap again, but she said, “Stop!” and put the window down, noticing the silver-haired head at the very bottom.
The head moved backward a step, so Willow could see the small woman to whom it belonged. She was about 4’10” and her back curved over her walking stick.
“I seen him,” she said. “I seen him good.” She tapped the binoculars that hung around her neck.
“Did you recognize him?”
“Nope. Don’t reco’nize much of anybody. I’m not from here. Abby Sinclair.”
“Deputy Brand,” Willow said. “So you’re not a local?”
“Stayin’ with my daughter for a week.” She nodded toward another large house visible from the driveway, further up, across the street. “But I seen him, I’ll tell you what.”
Willow tipped her head sideways and considered her options. She needed a win, as she was far from impressing anyone at the QSD, other than her uncles, who were impressed by her just for existing.
What the hay? She had nothing to lose. “Could you describe him to a sketch artist for me?”
“To. A. Tee,” she said, and she snapped her thumb to her forefinger on each word like Baby Shark.
“Can I get your number?”
“Oh, honey, I don’t swing that way,” she said, and then she laughed and slapped her thigh. Then she started reciting her digits so suddenly that Willow barely had time to key them in.
Chapter Five
“So we’re getting’ a sketch artist in from El Paso first thing tomorrow mornin’,” Willow said.
Jeremiah couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was sitting outside in one of the lawn chairs he’d found around the place. She had her long legs stretched out in front of her, and her head tipped back, so she could stargaze, he figured.
He’d made them sandwiches, toasting the bread and heaping on grilled veggies straight from the small fire he’d started in the firepit. They were damn good sandwiches, if he said so himself.
She hadn’t stopped talking about the case since she’d arrived, overnight bag in hand so she could make use of the bunkhouse shower while he finished cooking. She’d never worked with a police sketch artist before and was excited about it.
“You really like being a cop, don’t you?” he asked when she stopped for a breath.
“I really do,” she said. “I’d like it more if I were better at it, though.”
“You don’t think you’re good at it?”
She glanced his way and rolled her eyes. “I can’t even get the goods on the Barker boys, and everybody knows they’re guilty as sin.”
“Well,” he said, “maybe when you catch this window-breaker, you’ll feel better about that.”
“Maybe.” She took another bite of her sandwich. He’d quartered them once off the fire, because he’d used huge slabs of sourdough to make them. She was working on her third portion, but slowing down.
After she swallowed, she said, “This is the best sandwich I’ve ever had. You oughtta tell the cook over at Two Lilies how you make ‘em”
It was an odd request. “Don’t you want me to tell you how to make them?”
