The Harrisons’ street was dark. There were porch lights on at some of the houses, but there weren’t as many streetlights as there were in the downtown business section. Tripp peered at the uneven puddles of light his headlights threw on the rutted street.
As he stepped on the accelerator again to get the last half block to the Harrisons’ house, something darted out in front of the car. Swearing softly, he jammed on the brakes. It might have been a squirrel or a rabbit dashing across the street, but with his luck there’d be headlines in the Friedens paper tomorrow about the acting sheriff hitting somebody’s puppy.
Whatever it was made it across the street, and Tripp started up again. Why didn’t he just give up and keep antacids in the pocket of this uniform? He needed a double dose this week alone. There was the Harrisons’ house up ahead, and he started to pull up to the curb near Lurlene. In the process, he stopped short. Sam had left the front driver’s side door of his horrible car wide open. It blocked nearly a lane of the wide street. Tripp was incredibly lucky that he hadn’t torn the thing straight off the hinges.
This was the limit. Tripp had no more patience for anything. He ground the vehicle into reverse and pulled it back away from the Cadillac. He slammed the door to the cruiser as hard as he wanted to slam the one on the convertible. Of course, if he closed that one, nobody would believe what he’d seen.
For the first time in months, Tripp wanted a partner. That way one of them could go get Harrison, while the other one stood guard to make sure the next driver down the street didn’t have a wreck.
Since he was alone, that wasn’t an option. He mounted the porch steps three at a time. If there was a doorbell, he didn’t see it. Of course, Mr. Sam hadn’t bothered with his front porch light. It felt good to pound on the solid front door with his fist. Maybe that would get the old man’s attention.
“What do you want! And it’s not like you have to knock the door down,” Mr. Sam complained, when he finally answered the door.
“If I did, it would be the second time in five minutes I took the door off something you owned,” Tripp fumed. “I came over here to find Laurel, but before I do, it looks like I have to stop and cite you for about six different violations. When I get done with you, there are going to be so many points on your driver’s license, you won’t get it back before your hundredth birthday.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been sitting in the back room watching the Cardinals game. Haven’t been anywhere near the car in hours.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t believe that one. I nearly tore the front door off that heap on my way in here because it was wide open halfway out in the street. And you haven’t said where Laurel is, either.”
“That’s because I don’t know. Jeremy came home with his cousins a while back, and I haven’t seen his mother. But you can rest assured that even if I had, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you. So I’d suggest you either write your phony ticket or get off my front porch.”
Tripp was so mad he was starting to see spots. “Fine. I’ll write my tickets. Plural. And while I’m doing it, you come out here and close this car door.”
Mr. Sam shook his head. “I keep telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about…” He looked over his shoulder into the darkened hallway. “Unless Jeremy was doing something with the car while he was out front with that skateboard. He came in, though, to answer the phone.”
Mr. Sam peered around Tripp into the darkness. “Well, that rascal. I’m sorry for doubting you, Sheriff Jordan.”
“You’ll be even sorrier when I finish writing the tickets.” Tripp was already on the way back to the cruiser to get his book. “And I still don’t believe you don’t know where Laurel is.”
Their argument on the front porch was interrupted by Jeremy coming out of the house in a hurry. “Grandpa! Where’s Mom? I have to talk to her right now! That was Gina on the phone, and she thinks she’s selling our house to some guy. Mom wouldn’t do that without telling me. Where is she?”
“That’s everybody’s question,” Tripp told him. “It sounds like she’s got explaining to do all over when we find her. But so do you?”
Mr. Sam grabbed Jeremy’s arm to stop his wild flight from the house. “Hold on, now. I don’t know where your mom is. And you have some explaining to do too. Did you leave my car door that way?”
Jeremy stopped in his tracks. “Uh, yeah. I was trying to jump it on my skateboard. Then the phone rang, and nobody was getting it. Why, is there a problem?”
There was never a convenient piece of wallboard to put your fist through in frustration when you needed one. Tripp couldn’t think of any way to defuse this much frustration.
“Look, you two. Close the car door before somebody rips it off. Which won’t be a problem an hour from now because I’m coming back to impound that vehicle the minute I find Laurel. I don’t care who made a public nuisance out of it in the middle of the street—I’m finding a way to bring it in tonight. This is just the last straw.”
Both the Harrisons were silent, looking at him open-mouthed.
Tripp looked at Jeremy. “Were you in on what happened with Ashleigh at the coffee house?”
“Sure. Did she tell you?” Jeremy perked up, which Tripp thought was a strange response.
“She told me plenty. And if she wasn’t grounded for life before, she is now. Along with your mother, if that were legal.”
“Which it isn’t. Even I know that much.” The kid stuck his chin out defiantly. “And if you don’t, you’re a worse replacement for Grandpa Hank than I thought you were.”
That stung, coming from a kid who didn’t even shave yet. “Yeah, well, I know one thing. Your mom could sell that house in California without telling you anything. And she probably would, too. So get used to seeing me on a regular basis when I arrest you for trying to jump over things with that skateboard.”
He left them on the porch to return to the cruiser. He still needed to find Laurel, and fast. This was turning into a night like no other since he’d taken over for Hank Collins. All he needed now was livestock wandering down Main Street, or a drunken brawl at the pool hall, to make his life complete.
Once back in the cruiser, he pulled away and parked about three blocks from Mr. Sam’s house, where he could relax a bit. Then he did something that was out of character for him—but this had hardly been a regular kind of night. He got out his phone and called Hank, at home, at nearly ten o’clock at night.
“Tripp? Something wrong?” Hank sounded more surprised by the call than Tripp had thought he would be.
“A little bit of everything. Most of it is personal, and nothing I can’t handle in time. But I need a little help. I’m looking for Laurel, and she’s not at the coffee house and she’s not at Sam’s. You got any good ideas where I might find her?”
“Not an idea, a straight fact. She’s sitting here at my kitchen table,” Hank replied.
“Then handcuff her to the chair or something, because I want to talk to her and I need her in one place. Do not let that woman leave, understand?”
“Understood. I’m sure you’ll explain more when you get over here.”
“Which will be three minutes, tops,” Tripp said, and hung up. He might break a few traffic laws doing it, but he’d get to Hank’s in record time.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Laurel asked her father.
“Not exactly. But he sounded serious. Do you think he wasn’t happy with what went on with his daughter?”
“How could he not be? Unless she wasn’t telling me the whole truth when she said she had permission to come. If that’s the case, we’re all in deep trouble. That man does live by the letter of the law.”
“It’s why he’s good at his job.” Hank sat back down. “You’d at least agree with me on that, now, wouldn’t you?”
“I would, by now. If you’d asked me when I first got here, I wouldn’t have had the same opinion. But I can actually see why you hired him, Dad.”
“Well, I’m so glad you approve of my decision.” Hank made a face. “Now ask me if I approve of yours.”
“Which one? The one to move back to Friedens, open a coffee house, or date your deputy?”
“A little bit of all of them, I guess. Laurel, do you ever stop to think about anybody else’s opinion?”
“About as often as you do,” she countered, earning a slight wince from Hank.
“Okay. I had that coming. And don’t misunderstand, I’m glad to have you back if you really want to be here. But if you’re just here out of guilt, or some odd notion I don’t have much time left or something…”
“Not at all. I want to be here, most of the time. California hasn’t felt right since Sam’s been gone. I love the weather, and the scenery. But the whole atmosphere isn’t comfortable for me.” She cupped her chin in one hand. “Think there’s any way we could get me a mountain or two, and some cool nights, though? This humidity is about to kill me.”
Hank shook his head. “These kids who’ve always had air-conditioning. Don’t get me started on that.”
“I won’t. We could be here all night just talking about that, and I think I hear your deputy outside.”
Somebody was sure slamming car doors and thumping around. In a few seconds Tripp was at the back door. He must have wanted in badly to come around back, instead of waiting at the front.
“What do you think you’re doing with my daughter?” he said as he strode into the kitchen. “Did you even ask her if she had permission to come down there tonight? Because you knew she was grounded.”
“Of course I asked. And she said—”
“I’m not even sure I should listen to this. You’re an adult. You should have known better than to believe whatever she said.”
Laurel sprang up. “Now, wait a minute. That does us both a disservice. I believe kids should be trusted to tell the truth, so that’s what I expect out of them—”
“Right. When they’re not out providing false names to police officers,” Tripp fumed. “And if your standards are so high, why didn’t you tell Jeremy you were selling the house?”
She felt as if she’d crashed into a brick wall. “What did you say?”
“Which time? I want to figure out which statement finally got your attention.” Tripp was standing over her now, and he seemed menacing. “If it was the last one, I wanted to know why you didn’t come right out and tell your own kid you are selling the house and moving. He seems to think that is what’s happening after talking to your friend Gina. And I’m surprised, given the stuff you’ve been preaching to me, that you don’t practice nearly as much honesty or trust.”
She felt numb. “That isn’t the way it was. He’s got it wrong. I haven’t signed anything yet. Gina and I have talked about it, maybe. But nothing has happened. And how do you know all this, anyway?”
“We had an interesting discussion when I was at Mr. Sam’s to try and find you. Speaking of which, now that I’ve done so, we have to sort through a couple of things quickly so I can go back and impound his car like I promised.”
“You can’t do that! Dad, tell him he can’t do that,” Laurel said to her father, who’d been watching this whole exchange, still holding onto the kitchen doorknob.
“I won’t tell him any such thing until I hear a whole bunch more from both of you. And I want you sitting down and using civil tones in my house, got it?”
Her father’s voice had the same effect on both of them. Chairs were pulled away from the table, and everyone sat. Quietly. When Hank was sitting between the two of them as they faced each other, he put both hands on the tabletop. “Now, one at a time and slowly. No name-calling or other obnoxious behavior. I care about both of you, and I’ll have you remember I’m an old man with a heart condition.”
Laurel could see a scowl on Tripp’s face to match her own. “You’re not old…” she said, only to hear Tripp echo the same thing.
“See. Something you agree on. Now let’s find a few more things. Tripp, you start with a little bit about why you nearly arrested Sam or impounded Lurlene or whatever happened. I have to think my grandson was involved somehow,” Hank said. He leaned back in his chair to listen, and Laurel was reminded of an Old Testament judge.
“I’m still mad at you,” Tripp said to Laurel. “But now I’m madder at myself. Why didn’t any of you clunk me over the head tonight to get me to listen to the important parts of the story?”
“Did you give anybody a chance? I can imagine you didn’t give Ashleigh one. And she was just floating on clouds when she left the coffee house.
That was part of the reason I wanted to come over here right after the youth group meeting.”
Laurel turned to her dad, and Tripp hoped that Ash would still look at him twenty-five years from now the way she was looking at Hank.
“That still means a lot to me. Thanks.” Hank sounded a touch choked up.
But then, there’d been a lot of hot and angry words exchanged at his table over the past hour. Hank had even contributed a few.
But Tripp still felt as if he’d contributed most of them himself. “I’ve really been out of control the past couple hours. Laurel, tell me what I can do to right the many wrongs I’ve created tonight.”
“It’s going to take a while for me, Tripp, but I’m a grown-up. I can handle it. First, I’d say you need to go home and talk to Ashleigh. Then, if you want to call or come over and speak with Jeremy, you’re welcome.”
“Okay. I may do that, depending on how late I’m up with Ashleigh. And I never thought I’d say this, but please tell Mr. Harrison that I won’t be coming to tow away his car. At least, not tonight. I make no promises for the future.”
“I understand that. And thank you for listening tonight. I feel better about some of the things that have happened lately, after hearing you out.”
Laurel looked extremely solemn. He could tell that one of the things she didn’t feel better about was any hopes for a relationship with him. But then, given his asinine behavior in the past week or so, who could blame her?
She got up from the table, and went behind her dad to give him a quick hug. “I have to get going. Sounds like I have some ruffled feathers to smooth out. I hate to ask you this, but could you give me a ride home? I had Pastor Ron drop me off, and I was going to have Gloria take me home, but I’m sure she’s given up and gone to bed. And I know Mr. Sam has, so it’s no use calling him.”
“Sure. It’s the least I can do.” He looked at his boss. “You want my resignation now, or can it wait?”
“Why would I want your resignation? Everybody’s entitled to a few errors in judgment. Be thankful yours have only involved words and family members.” Hank got to his feet slowly. “And don’t count on me to mediate one of these again. My neck is so stiff from watching you two back and forth, I feel like I’ve seen a match at Wimbledon.”
“Guess we did go on. I’ll talk to you tomorrow sometime, then, okay?”
Hank nodded. “You do that. And I don’t want to hear any more talk of resignations.”
Tripp nodded and followed Laurel to the front door. “Good night, Dad,” she called as she let them out. He could hear Hank calling back to her before the door shut.
“We wore him out. I feel bad about that part,” she said, going down the front walk. “But I’m glad he was willing to talk with us. I can’t imagine how that whole exchange would have developed without a mediator.”
“Would have lasted about two minutes, like all my interactions tonight with people who are important to me. And I would have screwed up just as effectively.” It was the truth, and Tripp had no problem admitting it. “I notice you’re not jumping in to contradict me.”
“No, I’m not. But I have to take some responsibility, too. I’m sorry I didn’t ask more pointed questions with Ashleigh tonight. But it really sounded as if she had your okay to be there.”
“I know. She should have. I feel like an absolutely rotten parent now.”
“It will pass. I don’t think any permanent damage has been done. Tell her you’ll give her a chance to flex her forgiveness muscles as a brand-new Christian.”
Laurel sounded as if she was only half teasing. “I almost like that idea.” It was a bit scary to admit that to her. Maybe the gap between them, in parenting styles and a host of other things, wasn’t as broad as it seemed.
They didn’t say much more on the ride over to Mr. Sam’s. Laurel insisted he drop her off and head home to Ashleigh. It was a relief to see that Lurlene had been garaged, leaving the street empty. At least there wasn’t that obvious reminder of his making a fool of himself.
He went home as fast as possible without breaking any speed laws. There were lights on in the apartment, but Ashleigh wasn’t there at the door to greet him when he came in. She was probably in bed.
He went and knocked on her door. “May I come in, Ash? We need to talk, and I need to apologize. Bet you didn’t expect that, did you?”
There was silence on the other side of the door. He knocked again. “Ash?”
He could see light on inside her room, so Tripp opened the door, expecting to find his daughter worn out, probably from crying, and fallen asleep on top of the quilt.
Instead, the bedside lamp revealed an empty room. There were open drawers in the dresser, and the closet was ajar. This was not good. Not good at all.
He made a quick pass through the whole place—kitchen, bathroom and his bedroom—but there was no sign of Ashleigh anywhere. He was close to panic now. “What did I do? What on earth did I do?” His question echoed off the kitchen’s tile walls. There was a folded piece of paper on the table. Somehow he’d missed it before.
As he was unfolding it, the phone rang. Still unfolding with one hand, he picked up the phone.
“Tripp?” It was Laurel and she sounded distressed. “I’ve got trouble here. Sam and Jeremy are gone. They’re in the car, and I’m really worried because they took Buster with them. I can’t even find a litter box. It looks like everybody’s run away.”
He was trying to force out words to answer her but he couldn’t, and the penciled words on Ashleigh’s note kept blurring before his eyes. “Trouble doesn’t end there, Laurel. Call Gloria and wake her up, and have her bring you to their house. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. Ashleigh is with them, and they’re all on their way to St. Louis to Pearl’s.”