Michael brought Maguire into the break room. He'd slipped a lead from his pocket, hooking it on the dog's collar. Walking to the counter, he started to make a fresh pot of coffee. Maguire yanked at the lead. Michael dropped it. "You can go lie down, but I'm leaving this on just in case you try to run away again."
Maguire shook his head and then turned his back on Michael to look toward the corner.
He's annoyed and ignoring me. That's okay. He spoke to Maguire's back. "I want to keep you safe and out of the hands of animal rescue." He chuckled as he turned back to run water for the coffee.
That dog belongs to everyone in town. The lead isn't a permanent solution, but it will have to do until the holidays are over. Then we can figure out how to keep him from being apprehended. How is it that Maguire's worst nemesis, the animal rescue, are the very ones who are making money with his Santa Paws handshakes?
Jets walked into the room looking grim. She clicked off her phone. "So that was Meadow," she explained.
"And…"
"It seems Logan ran off in the middle of the night. She's gone through his room to see if he left any clues as to his whereabouts. She found something of yours under the guest bed."
Michael felt the hair on his neck raise. "And what would that be?"
"An electric drill."
His eyebrows rose. "That surprises me. I keep it in my toolbox and it's locked, right in the back of the truck." Then he stopped, realizing that wasn't necessarily true. "Except for a few days ago, when I found my toolbox had been broken into. The lock had been tampered with. Nothing was missing though. At least I thought my drill was right there in the bottom, under the screwdrivers and hammers."
"Meadow says your name is on the drill."
"I do have my name engraved on my more expensive tools."
Jets came closer, holding out her empty coffee mug. "Logan was my first appointment this morning. He's run off, which makes him look really guilty."
"Does that mean we'll send out a search party for the kid?" Michael pointed to Maguire. "He's ignoring me," he explained. "But I'm sure he'd love a good search party. Maybe then he'd forgive me for keeping the lead on his collar."
Jets laughed. "Let me make a few phone calls. Then we can begin a search. Maybe the mutt will come in handy. Does he know Logan?"
"He does." Michael looked pleased. "They bonded that first day when I took Logan and Avery over to meet Betty King." He walked closer to the dog. Reaching out, he patted Maguire's haunch. "Wanna go outside, buddy?"
At the word outside, the dog leapt to all fours. Spinning around, his tail wagged over his head. Michael scratched behind his ears. "I'll finish with the coffee. And then we'll see if Maguire is a good tracker."
Jets nodded. "But first we'll stop by Meadow's house. She's gone to work, but Sage is home on her winter break. She'll show us the kid’s room and your drill. Once you identify it as yours, we'll have an important clue for forensics. Maybe they can match the drill to the bolts we found at the crime scene. And hopefully there will be fingerprints."
Michael's stomach dropped. "It sure looks like Logan is our culprit. Maybe he ran away because he didn't want to face you this morning. You are pretty scary."
"I am supposed to be scary," Jets insisted. "It's in my job description. Terrifying suspects. I practice looking formidable in the mirror every morning." Jets swept her hand over her body. "I am a lean, mean constabulary queen."
Turning his back on Janis with a chuckle, he reached up to open a cupboard. By the time he found a travel mug and filled one with fresh coffee, Jets was calling impatiently from the doorway.
"Let's go, Mike. And don't forget the mutt."
Sage opened the door wearing fluffy slippers and a sleepy smile. "I wasn't expecting visitors this morning," she explained, "until Mom called."
Maguire walked in first, trotting ahead toward the kitchen. Michael and Janis lingered to chat with Sage.
"Have you heard from Logan?" Jets asked.
"I haven't seen him since last night." Sage pointed to the hallway. "Avery is still sleeping in the office on the pullout. Do you want me to wake her up?"
"We talked to her already," Janis said. "Let her sleep a little longer. Then I'll question her. Logan may have told her where he was going."
"Logan left all his stuff," Sage said. "You can come see for yourselves. I tried texting him an hour ago but no response."
Jets looked toward the hallway. "Okay, let's check out his room first."
Sage led the way.
At the first step into the guest room, Michael smiled. A fluffy bedspread decorated with snowmen lay in the middle of the unmade bed. Crochet doilies covered the dresser and bed stand. Jets pulled back the covers, releasing the smell of teenage boy, part sweat and part cheap aftershave.
Michael rubbed his nose as Sage cracked open the window over the bed. "Meadow left the drill where she found it." She pointed and Janis lifted the dust ruffle off the bed. With a tug, she pulled out the drill. Standing up, she handed it to Michael. "This the one?"
It only took a second. "It's mine. I was sure it was in the toolbox, but I must have made a mistake."
Jets pulled a large evidence bag from her backpack. "I'll bag it and get it to the lab. You can stay and talk to Sage. I'll be back in fifteen minutes to look over the rest of the room and to interview Avery."
"I can feed Maguire breakfast while we chat," Sage suggested.
"He's been eating his weight in dog bones all over town," Michael said with a frown.
"Then I'll give him half a scoop of kibble," she replied, as they heard the sound of the front door closing.
Sage led the way to the kitchen where they found Maguire standing in front of the pantry. He'd spent the first year with Meadow in the kitchen, being fed and house-trained, where she kept a good eye on his growth. He did not turn around when they came into the room, his gaze glued to the pantry doorknob.
"I guess he's hungry again." Michael grinned.
"I'll get his food. You have a seat." Sage reached for a metal bowl and opened the pantry door. Michael watched as Maguire walked inside. He nosed the large bag of dog food and then looked up at Sage. She unclipped the top. Pulling a half-filled cup out, she dumped it into his food bowl.
Outside the pantry Sage placed the bowl on the ground. "Okay," she told Maguire. He leaned over the bowl and began to munch.
Michael looked out the window. Snow still rested on the branches of the pine trees. The space through the branches exposed blue sky. "I like this view," he told her. Sage looked over at him and then sat down, her eyes inquisitive.
"What's going on with you?" Sage got right to the point.
"Just the usual." He smiled, looking away.
"I've known you for a few years now," Sage explained, "you always seem a bit down this time of year."
"I'm not a big celebration guy when it comes to Christmas." He tried to sound light but suspected Sage wasn't fooled.
"Not everyone loves the holidays," she agreed. "But you're not your usual self. I saw Marla the other day and she said you'd barely spoken to her for the last couple of weeks."
He dug in his pocket, pulling out his pad of paper. "She's next on my punch list. I got caught up at the constabulary and I didn't get to her as soon as I wanted to."
"See, that's what I mean. You are keeping deliberately busy with non-Christmas tasks, as if you're running away from something. We notice, your friends care about you. You know that, right?"
Tears stung his eyes. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat. "Okay, so you're right. I am trying to get through the holidays and it's taking all my willpower. I didn't realize it was so obvious."
She reached out to touch his arm. "To your friends. Not everyone, but we care about you."
He nodded. "I'm not ready to talk about it. But so you know, there's nothing anyone can do. I just have to wade through and make the best of things. You help, Meadow helps, even Janis brings me moments of cheer." He pointed to Maguire, who stood by the back door. "And that big mutt is no end of comfort. He's sticking pretty close to me lately. And he's amazing company."
Sage stood and reached her arms around him. "How about a hug then? Probably better than a lot of words."
He pulled her close as her head tucked under his chin. Her clean hair held the hint of lavender. Of course she smells like lavender. She's Meadow's daughter after all.
Still holding her, his heart rate slowed. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Sage's words ran through his mind, making everything, at least for the moment, a little bit better. We care about you.
Despite his attempts to keep busy and distant, he knew the truth: I care about all of you too.