Shattered Justice (15 page)

Amos indicated the still-intact sign. “They missed. Had to be someone passin’ through, Deputy. Folks ’round here, they don’t miss.”

Dan hadn’t been sure if that bit of news was comforting or unnerving. Now, thinking of James Brumby, he had no doubt.

Unnerving. Definitely unnerving.

NOON. THE MAGIC HOUR
.

Dan pulled his cruiser into his usual parking place, slid from the car, adjusted his utility belt, and walked toward the promised land.

Lou’s Diner and Deli.

To the untrained eye, it looked like a little hole in the wall, a greasy spoon best avoided for the sake of one’s gastrointestinal tract. But to those who live in Sanctuary, Lou’s was the doorway to delight.

Forget the sad exterior with faded, peeling paint. Forget the sign that looked as though it came off the underside of a wagon dragged across the states with the town’s founding fathers. Forget the gaudy neon signs in the windows, the dusty county fair posters from 1967, and the front door that squeaked loud enough to bring the mice in town running.

No sir, none of that mattered. Not when LouBelle Watson got to cooking. No one created culinary masterpieces like Lou did. Her fare was plain, to be sure: eggs, bacon, ham, hash browns, biscuits, hot cereals for breakfast. Soups, sandwiches, burgers, fries for lunch. Meat loaf, roast beef, fried chicken, fish, and spaghetti for dinner. Which made Lou’s genius that much more amazing. By adding just the right touch of this or pinch of that, she transformed what might otherwise be a simple grilled cheese sandwich into a matchless melt-in-your-mouth morsel.

And then there was her dessert menu. Just the thought of that menu—and the delicacies it promised—set Dan’s taste buds into overdrive.

He pushed the front door open, inhaling as he stepped inside. Luscious aromas filled his senses, and he let out a soft sigh. No matter what happened during the day, no matter how crazy things got, he could always count on lunch at Lou’s. No one knew how to fill an empty stomach—or lift a sagging spirit—like the petite diner owner.

“Well, don’t just stand there, boy. Take your seat.”

Dan dodged the diminutive gray-haired woman zipping past him, her arms laden with plates of food. There was as much spring in her step as any of the rabbits Dan was forever chasing out of his garden.

“Yes, ma’am.” He moved to slide into his booth.

Most of regulars who ate at Lou’s had their own booths. No names on them or anything, but folks knew which booth or table belonged to whom, and they respected each other’s right of ownership.

Most of the regulars had been coming to Lou’s since they were kids. Of course, Lou treated all of them—even those pounding down the door of senior citizen status—as if they were still barely in grade school. When Dan made lunch at Lou’s a more-or-less daily excursion, he accepted that Lou
would treat him that way, too. Which she did with glee, even going so far as to insist he drink milk instead of coffee.

Truth be told, though, Dan didn’t mind Lou’s coddling. In fact, he kind of liked it. Almost as much as he liked watching the other customers as he ate. Dining at Lou’s wasn’t just about the food, delicious though it was. It was about the company, too. And as Dan settled into his booth and glanced around, he saw that the regulars, or the Lou Crew, as he’d dubbed them, were there in force.

Amos Abbot perched on his stool at the counter. He saluted Dan with his cup of coffee. “Afternoon, Deputy.”

Dan nodded to Amos and to the man sitting next to him. Gordon Gossier, the town crier. At least, that’s what Doris and Agatha called him. From the day Dan had hit town, those two had made it their personal duty to fill him in on the “good folks of Sanctuary.” They pointed Gordon out to him during his first week in town.

Dan had spotted the two women sitting in their rockers in front of the Beauty and Video shop. He stopped to chat and was listening to a litany of Doris’s latest physical ailments when she suddenly stopped rocking and leaned forward, staring across the street.

“Well, look there, Agatha. It’s the town crier.”

Agatha peered at her friend. “Brown dryer? Don’t be silly. The dryers in the Laundromat are white. Besides, what
that
has to do with your lumbago is beyon—”

“Crier
, you nit! Town
crier.”
Doris swatted Agatha’s arm. “Turn up your hearing aid.”

“I will not burn it up! There’s times I need the silly thing.” She sniffed. “Though not as often as some people like to think.”

“Town crier?”

Doris looked up at Dan’s question, clearly delighted to have an audience that could hear. “Gordon Gossier.” She pointed a knitting needle at the stout man across the street. “You can be sure of this, Sheriff Dan, no one beats Gordon at spreading news—”

“Or rumors—” Agatha’s white-capped head was bobbing her agreement. “The man’s a veritable
fount
of tittle-tattle.”

Dan frowned. “Tittle-tattle?”

Agatha’s veined hand waved at him. “Oh, you know, who is doing what with whom, when and where and why. He seems to know everything about everyone—”

“And has no qualms sharing his wealth of information.” Doris sat back in her rocker. “Fast and efficient. That’s our Gordon. Why, we hardly need phones with him around.”

“Indeed.” Agatha’s head was bobbing again. “You’re so right, Doris. So right.”

Dan smiled at the memory. He’d discovered Agatha and Doris were right on the money about Gordon. Which was likely why he always sat next to Amos. Where better to get the latest scoop than from a newspaperman?

Wilson and Edwina Casey, who’d been married just over sixty years, sat in the booth across the way from Dan. Almost every day, their weathered hands were entwined. Today was no different, and even from across the room Dan could see the way their eyes shone as they looked at each other. It always got to Dan, watching them …

He and Sarah would have been like that.

Dan waited for emotion to clog his throat, but it didn’t come. Instead, he just smiled. That had been happening more and more. Especially since that day on the walkway with Shelby. When he thought about Sarah there was more gratitude than pain.

A quick look around the diner showed the other regulars of the Lou Crew were at their posts: Jessie Matthews, the local librarian, was seated across a table from Camilla Wright, the clerk at the town’s gas-station-cum-grocery-store. Mabel Jones, Jasmine’s slasher beautician, sat at her usual booth, studying the hairstyle magazines spread out on the table in front of her.

There were one or two folks Dan didn’t know. Tourists, no doubt. Visitors who stopped in at Lou’s generally fit into one of
three categories. They’d heard about the place so weren’t put off by the exterior. Or they were brave-hearted souls, whose pioneer spirits wouldn’t let them turn away when things got ugly. Or they were flat-out starving and painfully aware there weren’t a whole lot of choices for places to eat between Sanctuary and Shady Cove, almost an hour down the highway.

Too bad he hadn’t been here when the new folks arrived. First-timers were always surprised when they first met Lou. For some reason, most folks expected to see a big burly lumberjack of a guy. Lou wasn’t even close. Barely five feet tall, weighing probably a hundred pounds soaking wet, she looked more like a misplaced munchkin than a lumberjack. But for all of her sweet smiles and grandmotherly hair and dress, Lou was no one to mess with.

She could be a terror, when needed. A tiny terror, but a terror nonetheless.

Dan cast a final look around the diner. Yep. Everyone was here.

Well … almost everyone.

“She’ll be here, Deputy.”

Dan turned and caught the twinkle in Edwina Casey’s eyes. “Who will?”

“Good try, Deputy.” This bit of laughing sarcasm from Gordon at the counter. “But it’s a waste of energy. Everyone here knows who you’re lookin’ for.”

A tiny wave of heat inched up Dan’s neck, into his face. After that day a few weeks ago, when Shelby tripped, it took a couple of days for her to be comfortable around him. Neither of them said anything, but he was pretty sure they both were aware of the shift in their friendship. Thankfully, they managed to get it back on track. And though a suggestion of something more existed, neither of them was in any hurry to push it.

Pity the folks in town weren’t as patient. They’d been making little comments. Dan did his best to just let them slide on by, like he hadn’t heard them. But this time, there was no denying it.

“Now, you all leave the deputy alone,” Lou said from behind the counter.

Dan sent a grateful smile her way. She nodded to him. “The usual, Dan?”

“Absolutely.” At least
someone
knew how to mind her own business.

Lou slid one of her golden-brown grilled cheese creations onto a plate, making his mouth water. She added a spoonful of coleslaw and a slice of orange to the plate, then made her way around the counter, bestowing that broad grin of hers as she set the plate in front of him.

Along with a tall glass of milk.

Dan eyed the glass. “Lou …”

She waved her hand in the air. “Growing boys need milk.”

“Lou, I’m six foot four. If I grow any more I won’t fit in my cruiser.”

“Then the county will just have to buy you a new car.”

“I don’t
want
milk—”

She patted him on the cheek. “ ’Course you do. Everyone likes milk.”

“Lou—”

“Give it up, Dan. You
know
you’ll never win.”

He looked past Lou’s elfin form to find Shelby standing there, amusement dancing in her blue eyes.

“I just love hearing the voice of reason.” Lou leaned close and pseudo-whispered into Dan’s ear. “Brains
and
beauty. Makes a pretty attractive package, don’t you think, Deputy?”

The diner went silent. A quick look confirmed Dan’s fear—everyone had stopped eating and was staring at him.

So much for Lou knowing how to mind her own business.

It had been a long time since Dan blushed, and here he’d done it twice in the space of five minutes. What was he supposed to say? That he agreed? Well, of
course
he did. Dan had thought Shelby was a very attractive package, inside and out, since coming to Sanctuary almost a year and a half ago. Was
even more convinced of it after she’d landed in his arms.

So much so that he made a decision. He’d been feeling it was time to get back into volunteer work with kids, so why not kill two birds with one stone, so to speak? If he volunteered with Master’s Touch, he’d have a good reason to spend more time with Shelby. That’d be a safe way to explore things a bit.

A whole lot safer—he thought, sitting here, staring up at Lou as she waited for a reply—than commenting on his opinion of Shelby in the middle of the day with an all-too-interested audience.

Fortunately, Shelby’s light laughter saved him from having to respond. “LouBelle Watson, you are a troublemaker.”

The older woman’s smile was saucy. “You only say that because it’s true.” She made her way back toward the grill. “Hamburger, Shelby?”

“With fries.” She slid onto the empty seat across from Dan and focused her attention on him. “Got a few minutes to talk?”

He finally found his voice. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I need you.”

Dan’s heart did a quick jump. “Oh?”

She nodded, snatching the pickle off his plate and taking a bite of it. “I’ve got a boy who just entered our program, and I think you’d be perfect to work with him.”

“Oh.” Was that disappointment curling through his gut?
Grow up, Justice. You’re worse than a junior higher with a crush
. “How old is this kid?”

“Thirteen going on forty.” She reached into her purse and pulled out some papers, tracing a finger down to the information she wanted. “Born July 17, 1991, and he’s had a truly rotten life. Both parents are gone—his dad is in prison; his mom just vanished when Jayce was a few months old. His paternal grandmother has done her best with him, but he’s a smart kid.” She set the papers on the table. “Really smart.”

“Ah.” Dan took a bite of his sandwich. “Let me guess. Bored in school, so he ditches? Bored in life, so he invents his
own activities? Activities that are less than constructive.”

“Or legal, unfortunately.” She stretched her hands out across the table, drumming her fingers softly. “But I’ll tell you something, when I look in this kid’s eyes …”

She fell silent, and Dan studied her. “What?”

“He’s on the edge, Dan. He’s been in the system off and on for years. You’d think he’d be hard and cold, but there’s something in his eyes that gets you—” she pressed a fist to her chest—“right here. A longing. Like he wants to come home but doesn’t know where home is.”

The sadness in her tone set him on edge. He wanted to reach out, draw her close, and protect her.