Free Dakota by Gwen Florio Page B

HOR B REVIK , like Charlie, was still at his desk. All resemblance ended there. Charlie’s style with anyone, whether criminal suspect, stranger in town, or lifelong acquaintance, was to let the other person start the conversation, and also do most of the heavy lifting once it was under way. But Thor came out from behind his desk in a half-crouch, hand extended, talking, talking. “You must be Lola. Thought you’d never get here. Of course, it’s a rotten drive. But we were starting to worry anyway.” He urged her into a chair. Lola twisted. Dawg loomed behind her.
    “Told you she’d get here fine. Y’all get acquainted now.”
    Thor flapped a hand as the door to the outer office was closing behind Dawg. “Don’t forget, we roll at seven tomorrow, Dawg.” He turned back to Lola. “I’ve been listening to the weather station all day, figuring you might run into snow. A front’s supposed to blow through any time now. But it sounded like clear sailing all the way for you. How about some coffee? You’re not one of those people who can’t drink it after noon, are you? I can’t imagine you are, not in your line of work. You reporters are the only people I know who drink as much coffee as cops. Take our local gal, Susie Bartles. I swear she goes through a gallon a day. Says she drinks a cup at bedtime to help her sleep. Sugar? Cream? Powdered is all I’ve got.”
    “Black is fine.” When he brought the coffee to her, his back remained bent as though in a bow. But whatever was wrong with his back, the rest of Thor Brevik was just fine. More than fine. Lola thought of old movie posters, the square-jawed guy in the white hat, one arm curled around the waist of a little lady who stared adoringly into his handsome face. Lola yanked her own stare away, fearful that some adoration of her own might have crept into it. “How’d you know who I am?”
    “Why, your sheriff, of course.”
    Lola choked on a mouthful of java so strong it put her own muscular brew to shame. “Charlie?”
    Thor swung his arms behind him and hoisted himself up onto his desk. He wore the belt buckle she’d expected, showing a bull flinging its hind feet high in the air, a cowboy balanced improbably on its back. “He called to let me know you were coming. Told me to keep an eye on you. Burnt Creek can be hard on new folks.”
    She could have sworn he winked. She raised the mug to her lips. With anyone else, the long sip would have been a delaying tactic, a way to keep the person talking. But Thor Brevik didn’t need tactics to keep talking. “It didn’t used to be this way. Time was when we were mostly just a bunch of dirt farmers barely hanging on. Now you’ve got folks who’ve been here their whole lives taking vacations in places like Paris. Coming back all prissy and perfumed. And the likes of the people showing up looking for work—well, they’re from whatever the opposite of Paris is, I suppose. Your Sheriff Laurendeau is right to worry.”
    My sheriff? Lola stopped herself from saying it aloud. What in the world had Charlie said? She took another sip and looked at the clock. A half hour had flown by. She wondered how long it would take her to find a place to settle for the night.
    He rubbed his hands together. “Is it cold in here? I swear as soon as it gets dark, the temperature drops ten degrees inside for every twenty outside.” He hopped down from the desk and fiddled with a thermostat. Heat curled around Lola’s ankles. She leaned toward it. Thor Brevik snapped the cover back over the thermostat. “How can we help you while you’re here?”
    Judith’s photo, deep within a hip pocket, burned against her thigh. Lola hesitated. He’d already had one conversation with Charlie. What if he had another? “I’m assuming I won’t be able to get a room tonight, or any night while I’m here,” she stalled. “Is it okay if I park my truck in your lot for the night?”
    Thor flung his arms wide. “Be my guest.” A phone