Free Mind Your Own Beeswax by Hannah Reed

again. Ben was Hunter’s canine police partner, and until I met him, I’d been afraid of dogs, a fear I hadn’t managed to conquer since a vicious dog attack as a kid. After getting to know Ben, though, I discovered I kind of liked the big Belgian Malinois in spite of his four padded paws and intimidating size.
    “He’s in the truck,” Hunter said, giving me one final squeeze before sitting down next to me. “We’re here to assist with the search.”
    “Officially?”
    Hunter nodded.
    “Johnny Jay’s going to love that,” I said, grinning at the thought. Our police chief was very territorial about the town of Moraine and its business, but sometimes he was forced to work with the county sheriff’s department, which was where Hunter and his canine pal came in.
    “Where’s Gus Kerrigan?” Hunter asked.
    “Out searching.”
    “He was supposed to meet me here.”
    “He and Terry are over at The Lost Mile.”
    “Wish he’d taken the time to let me know that.”
    “He must have forgotten in all the excitement.”
    Hunter looked into my eyes, like he could read my mind. “How are you doing with all this?”
    “Lots of bad memories floating to the surface. Other than that, I’m fine.”
    Hunter nodded in understanding. He’d been right there with us and must have his own unpleasant memories.
    “Fill me in,” he said. “What’s happened so far?”
    That’s what I liked about Hunter. Unlike my ex-husband, he treated me like a thinking human being rather than some kind of toy. I wasn’t just eye candy to Hunter.
    I had just finished telling him about the gunshots, our adventure through the woods, and the scene at the bar with Johnny Jay, when T. J. Schmidt came in. He walked over to the bar and joined us.
    While he ordered a double shot of scotch, I studied him. He looked like his face had been bleached right along with his teeth.
    “This certainly is unpleasant,” he said. “It’s just like Lauren to leave town with her name on everybody’s lips and to return the exact same way. She always was nothing but trouble.”
    That last comment surprised me, since T. J. had been dating Lauren at the time. But then again, because of that he’d been forced to go through more legal hoops than the rest of us, and had even been accused of buying the booze that led to the tragedy. Eventually he’d been cleared of any responsibility, but still, I guess I could understand why he looked upset right now.
    T. J. polished off the scotch in one big gulp and ordered another.
    “Where’s Ali?” I asked him, thinking he needed his wife right now to keep him fit for work tomorrow morning.
    “She left a few hours ago to visit with her sister in Milwaukee. Chris and Ali get together once a month for a girls’ night out.”
    “Lucky her,” I said, really wishing I was someplace else, too. After that, we all went quiet in an awkward silence, not knowing what to say. Lauren hadn’t been around long enough to actually qualify as part of our group. If anything, she had come between us. Once I gave it more thought, I realized she really had been nothing but trouble.
    Then Carrie Ann’s ex, Gunnar Retzlaff, walked into the bar. He and my cousin had also been in the woods that night. “I’m looking for Carrie Ann,” he said. “Has anybody seen her?”
    Nobody had. Which I thought was pretty strange. Carrie Ann usually was in the thick of things. Gunnar looked worried.
    He had a dark complexion and always looked like he needed a shave, which instead of looking sloppy, gave him an attractively disheveled look. He was also one of those guys who really listened to a woman when she spoke, unlike most men, who don’t seem to listen any longer than they have to. Hunter and Gunnar were cut from the same kind of cloth. They actually absorbed and retained what we said. Too bad Gunnar’s relationship with Carrie Ann was so strained.
    “She hasn’t been in the bar since I came in,” I said. “We’re talking about Lauren. You