Free Lawman by Diana Palmer

gun…?”
    â€œOf course I do,” he muttered, “but it’s not my own. As for stop sticks, I pull my service weapon and try to blow out tires as long as the suspect isn’t near anything I might conceivably hit by mistake. As for a riot gun…” He pushed back his jacket to display his shoulder holster. “This is it. I hate shotguns.”
    â€œThey let you wear a shoulder holster?” Grier asked. “We aren’t allowed to.”
    â€œI don’t know if I want to apply to the Bureau if I can’t wear a shoulder holster. Besides, they move you guys around too much. I like being near home.”
    â€œTo each his own.”
    â€œWho else is going to be on this task force you’re setting up?” Marquez asked.
    â€œWe’ve got the sheriff’s department, because the murder took place out of town in the county, along with a K-9 unit, a Texas Ranger…”
    â€œA Ranger? Wow,” the other man said with a wistful sigh. “I tried to get in, five years ago. I passed everything except the marksmanship test, but two other guys had higher scores than I did. That’s quite an outfit.”
    â€œYes, it is. My brother was a Ranger, before he came down to work in San Antonio. He was with the D.A.’s office as a cyber crime expert, then he moved to Jacobsville.”
    â€œHe’s chief of police there,” Marquez nodded.
    â€œQuite a guy, your brother. He’s making some major drug busts.”
    Garon felt a ripple of pride. He was proud of his brother.
    â€œWho else?” Marquez persisted.
    â€œWe have an investigator from the D.A.’s office who specializes in crimes against children. We’ve volunteered our crime lab at Quantico for trace evidence.”
    â€œWe have one of the best forensic units in the country.”
    Garon smiled. “I know. I don’t have a problem with letting them process data.”
    â€œWhen do we meet?”
    â€œTomorrow afternoon, at El Chico’s. About one o’clock. I found one policeman who knows the family of the victim and used to live in the neighborhood. He’ll meet us there.”
    â€œI’ll have the Texas Ranger on hand and the D.A.’s investigator,” Garon told him. “I hope we can get this guy.”
    â€œNo argument there.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a couple of hours off after this, but I should be back in my office before quitting time, if you need to contact me. I forgot to give my numbers. If you can’t reach me at the office,” he added, pulling out a business card, “my cell phone number is on this.”
    â€œThanks. I’ll be in touch.”
    Marquez reached for his wallet when they were finished and the waitress had produced the bill, but Garon waved him away and passed his credit card to the woman.
    â€œMy treat,” he told Marquez with a smile. “It was a business lunch.”
    â€œThanks. I wish I could reciprocate, but my lieutenant would send me out to solve stolen gas station drive-off cases if I presented him with a lunch bill.”
    Garon just laughed.
    Â 
    T HE LAUGHTER FADED when he got home. Miss Turner was looking worried and standing by the telephone.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Garon asked her.
    â€œNothing, I hope,” she replied. “It’s just that I can’t get Grace on the telephone. I’m sure she’s all right. Maybe she’s just not answering her phone.”
    â€œI’ll drive over and see,” he replied, and was out the door before Miss Turner could ask to go with him.
    He pulled up in the front yard of the old Victorian house, noting again how little maintenance had been done on it. He took the steps two at a time and rapped hard on the door. He did it three times, but there was no answer.
    He started around the side of the house. And there she was. In the rose garden, with pruning shears, cutting back her rosebushes. She