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The chief answered the next call. “Yeah, Dev. I just told Sheriff Gordon where he could stick it, so you keep at it. And you have a lady here waiting to talk to you…” He looked my way. “Name of Angela.”
“We met at the coffee shop,” I added for the chief.
“She says you talked at Lake Java,” he said into the phone, before nodding. “See ya in an hour then.”
When he hung up, I stood. Another hour was too long for me to delay starting work, and being around Chief Pollock wasn’t a pleasant way to spend a morning. “Thank you for the coffee, Chief. I’ll be going.”
“Why don’t you give me your number? I can have Dev call ya when he gets back.”
Rules number two and three of dealing with cops came into play here. Never refuse a request, and the right to remain silent might be somewhere in the Constitution, but it only raised suspicion with a cop.
“Sure.”
He slid a pad of paper across the desk and added a pen.
I had to look up my new number in the phone before I could write it down. “New phone,” I said nervously before adding the wordMassachusettsto the note, which was the only name I’d given the officer earlier. “Thank you, chief,” I said as I slid it back toward him.
“I’ll see that he calls you,” he said with a smile.
CHAPTER17
Angela
Devlin had called mid-morning, and we’d arranged coffee at Lake Java when I’d told him I didn’t have enough time off today for a proper lunch.
He chose a table outside and pulled out a chair for me.
“Thank you, Dev.” That’s what Callie had called him that first night.
He took the chair opposite me. “Devlin’s the full name.” A disarming smile appeared as he lifted the cup to his lips.
“Angela,” I supplied. I sat up straighter and adjusted my glasses. Silence was no longer an option, and blending in demanded I at least act pleasant.
“How’s Grace?” he asked.
The question surprised me until I remembered that Callie had introduced me as Grace’s sister. “Haven’t heard much. I think she and Dirk are enjoying themselves in the sun. I’m watching the dogs for her, and so far, she’s only called to check on how they’re doing. You know Grace.”
He nodded. “That’s our Grace. So you’re staying at her place.”
I nodded. “Dogsitter.”
“What do you think of the guy who owns that place, Boone Benson?”
“Don’t even get me started,” I huffed. “He was a jerk in high school and hasn’t improved with age.” I didn’t have to fake a thing to let him know I wasn’t on Team Boone.
He nodded. “I get it. Some people around here can’t see past his bullshit.”
Ten minutes of chatting later, I decided small towns really were a bit different.
Devlin carried on a normal conversation with me, more person than cop. His interest in my background seemed genuine rather than the kind of interrogation I was used to from police back in Boston. There, the men and women in blue seemed to only ask questions designed to categorize me as either victim or suspected perpetrator.
I explained my leaving the area years ago for Massachusetts to Devlin. “It wasn’t bad, but I think it’s time for a change,” I answered when he asked me about liking life in the city.
“Yeah, I thought about it too,” Devlin said. “But I don’t think the big city is for me. I’d rather know the people I see on the street than be surrounded by strangers.”
“It’s different,” I admitted.
“And, when Pa offered me this job, well, there you are. I’ve found my place, and I don’t have the itch to leave.”
