Free In the Belly of Jonah by Sandra Brannan Page B

by feeding you. It’s the very least I can do,” I said.
    With that I was down the stairs and out the door that led into the garage.
    My Explorer wasn’t there, and for a moment I couldn’t for the life of me recall what had happened to it. Then I remembered I had driven to Denver with the policewoman, leaving my SUV at work. I turned to go back inside when I saw through the garage window that someone had parked it in my driveway. Joe. He had given me a ride back from Denver and must have arranged to have someone bring the Explorer to me from work. I thought for the thousandth time that I didn’t know what I’d do without him.
    As I drove away, I realized how the lights in my living room made the place come alive.

FRIDAYS ARE GREAT DAYS at work. Although several of our customers operate seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year, like we do, many don’t. Fridays tend to be the most relaxed days for those with a normal five-day workweek. The weekend allows us time to replenish our empty silos, as well as our tired bodies and overworked minds, and Fridays provide a perfect springboard to end the week productively with customers, vendors, and haulers.
    I slipped out of the house before five-thirty, hoping to let Lisa sleep. I had heard her up reading, studying, and typing notes until two this morning. I prayed she and Agent Pierce would have a rewarding and successful day.
    My first stop was at my office. After all, I had been at work for just a few hours the day before when I was whisked off to Denver by that awful policewoman. I had barely had enough time to call Brethren Social Assistance to arrange for an on-site grief counselor to be available yesterday afternoon for my employees. Probably could have used some time with them myself.
    Speed reading through my e-mails and answering those that couldn’t wait until Monday, I focused on the stack of mail, reports, invoices, and requests in my inbox, quickly sorting and prioritizing my workload. After collecting all my voice mails and jotting down numbers so I could return calls, I glanced up at the clock. Eight fifteen. Lisa was at Detective Brandt’s office with Agent Pierce and Chief Richardson. Joe would be done with plant shift change and having set the direction for the quarry and maintenance crew. By now he’d be well into digging through his morning pile of invoices and messages.
    I bounded down the hall, out the door, and nearly jogged toward Joe’s office trailer across the lot.
    “How’d it go last night with BSA?”
    Joe looked up from his pile of invoices. “They sent Cindy.”
    “Great,” I answered. The employees were comfortable with Cindy; she was the one who conducted the annual Employee Assistance Program speeches each January. “Any major issues?”
    Joe shook his head. Wounded, I thought as I read his eyes.
    I offered a conciliatory smile, “Besides you?”
    He offered a sad smile. “Everyone was thankful you brought Cindy in. No one wanted to ask her for one-on-one time, but they all hung pretty tight around her from about six to seven. Mostly plant guys.”
    “Makes sense. The quarry guys didn’t know Jill as well as the rest of us.”
    He nodded.
    “And you?” I already knew the answer, but had to ask.
    “Did I talk with Cindy? Nah,” Joe said. “I’m fine.”
    “That’s what Jim Bowie told Davy Crockett at the Alamo,” I argued. That earned me a smile. “Have you cleaned out her locker, yet?”
    Joe shook his head. “Didn’t know if Detective Brandt or Officer McDouglas would want to go through it first.”
    Officer Jan McDouglas. The pushy policewoman. My cheeks burned. “Officer McDouglas can go—”
    “Liv,” Joe warned. “Watch your language. New Year’s resolution, remember?”
    I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was a lost cause.
    I knew that Lisa wanted me to keep up the illusion that Detective Brandt was the lead on this case and figured she and Agent Pierce would