Free By Starlight by Dorothy Garlock Page B

focused. Pluggett said that if he succeeded with this operation, it might mean he’d get a chance at Capone. Jack wanted to get ahead, to get a promotion, to be someone in a city so large that all of Colton would fit in one skyscraper with plenty of room left over. He didn’t want to get sentimental about a life he’d left behind.
    Outside the Plymouth’s window, he started seeing more and more sights that spoke of the Montana he knew: Samuel Chapman’s weather vane that was adorned with an iron pig instead of a rooster, the tall church spire in Faribault, and the enormous, misshapen elm tree that sat alone on an island in the middle of Mulligan’s Pond. They’d be in Colton in minutes.
    Over and over, Jack thought about the job, about chasing Capone, about how distasteful it was to be stuck in a car with Ross Hooper, about how he was going to look with a medal pinned to his chest. But even then, he couldn’t prevent a familiar thought from intruding.
    Maddy…
     
    Crossing the bridge that spanned the Clark River, Jack drove the Plymouth into Colton. To Jack’s eye, at first glance, nothing seemed to have changed. Majestic houses sat on both sides of the wide, elm-lined street that reached toward the center of town. In the early morning sun, dew glistened off the well-kept lawns and shrub rows and birds shook their wings in ornate baths. But when Jack looked a bit closer, he began to notice small things that were different from before: more automobiles were parked in driveways and along the street, with only an occasional horse buggy mixed in, a sign that Colton was slowly but surely becoming more modern; a couple of new houses had been built on the outskirts of town; and trees that had been little more than saplings when he’d left seven years earlier had reached a good deal higher toward the sky.
    “So this is where you were raised?” Ross asked with a frown.
    Jack nodded, still looking out the window.
    “Huh,” the man grunted, rubbing his belly and wincing.
    Closer to downtown, things became even more familiar. Through the barbershop window, Jack saw Thaddeus White sweeping up a pile of clippings while Carl Hough waited for his turn in the chair. Just before they reached the Wilmington Brothers Bakery, Winifred Holland, Jack’s old schoolteacher, crossed the street with a fresh loaf of bread; she was a bit more frail looking than he remembered her being, her hair a snowy white, but he would’ve recognized her anywhere; it took a good deal of self-control not to call out to her.
    Turning the Plymouth off Main Street, Jack was thankful he wouldn’t have to drive past Maddy’s father’s store; the last thing he wanted was to run into her the moment he arrived in town. Jack and Ross’s first order of business was to check into the hotel and get settled before starting their ruse and getting information. Jack needed a shower, a bit of sleep, and maybe even a drink to calm his nerves.
    “This place ain’t much more than a hole in the ground,” Ross sneered as he looked out the window. “If someone’s sellin’ booze here, I hope to hell they make a mistake and accidentally poison half the town. Ask me, they’d be doin’ these sad sons-a-bitches a favor…”
    Angrily, Jack slammed down on the car’s brakes hard enough to make the tires screech; the back end fishtailed a bit before coming to a sudden, jerking halt in the middle of the street. Through the windshield, he noticed that a few heads had turned in their direction, but just then he didn’t much care.
    “Watch your damn mouth,” he hissed at his partner.
    “What’s the matter, ‘Lucky Jack’?” Ross smirked mischievously. “Did I hit a little too close to home?”
    From the glint in the man’s eye, Jack saw that Ross had been baiting him, challenging his sentimentality. All the older agent had wanted was to get under his skin, to goad him until he got the reaction he desired, and Jack, like a fool, had willingly given it to