Free 3 Madness in Christmas River by Meg Muldoon Page B

dropping the mouse on the pad. He looked up from behind his glasses with a jarred expression.
    “Uh, no, Mrs. Bright—I mean, Ms. Peters,” he said, acting like he’d just been caught at school doodling in his notebook instead of doing his algebra. “He, uh, he went home half an hour ago.”
    I bit my lower lip in frustration.
    “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.
    I shook my head.
    “Thanks,” I said, turning around and heading for the door.
    “Any time!” he yelled after me, a little too eagerly.
    Most days I would have reached out more to Billy Jasper. He was the newest recruit at the police station, a rookie in just about every sense of the word. Daniel was a compassionate person and never said a cross thing to or about Billy. But I could tell that sometimes, Billy’s naivety and lack of common sense irritated him.
    Still, Billy was a nice enough kid, a good deal nicer than some others at the station. I always made an effort to be extra kind to him.
    But I just couldn’t find it in me to go the extra mile tonight.
    I left the police station, lifting my hood over my head. The snow was coming down even harder, large clumps of it falling from the darkening sky. I wished that I had asked Kara to drive me instead of being stubborn and thinking I could walk in this kind of weather.
    I started heading in the direction of home, my feet feeling heavy as they sank into the gathering snow. I tried to walk fast, but it was hard to do when you couldn’t see where you were going on account of the snow.
    I was just about past downtown and preparing to make the hike back to my house, when the old weathered sign for the Pine Needle Tavern appeared in front of me like a mirage in the desert.
    I stood underneath it, thinking about whether or not to go in and wait out the heavy snowfall.
    A sudden gust of bitterly cold wind made the decision for me.
    I reached for the familiar iron handle and went inside.
     

 
    Chapter 20
     
    The tavern was crowded.
    I shook my coat free of snow, hung it up on the rack, and headed straight for the back bar where I planned to take a seat and wait out the snow storm, knowing full well that it might not let up for several hours.
    B.B. King crooned loudly over the speakers, and people shouted even louder over him.
    I sat at the smooth cherry wood bar, waiting for Harold to take notice of me. By the looks of it, he was in the middle of a heated discussion with Craig Canby, a regular at the tavern who had recently quit his job as a school counselor. They were arguing about some controversial call in the 49ers and Seahawks game.
    I took the opportunity to check my phone again, hoping in vain that Marie might have called and that I had missed it.
    But there was no message from her.
    I felt a twinge of worry in my gut.
    Maybe I was overreacting. She had, after all, disappeared like this before. And, in the big picture, she hadn’t really been gone that long. I didn’t even think I could officially file a missing person’s report yet.
    I wondered if I was acting like an annoying, worried mother. Acting like Marie was a teenager, instead of a woman in her 50s who was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
    I let out a sigh.
    No message from Daniel either.
    Daniel and I had been playing phone tag most of the day. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell him what had happened to Huckleberry and me. And frankly, I wasn’t really looking forward to rehashing the whole thing.
    Harold finally noticed I was sitting there and pulled himself away from the debate. He pushed his thick glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and saddled over to me.
    “You doin’ okay, Cin?” he asked. “I heard about what happened to your car this morning.”
    I nodded.
    “Yeah, I’m okay,” I said. “But two fingers of whiskey might take the edge off.”
    “You want that on the rocks?”
    “Neat, please.”
    For the second time that day, I said to hell with calorie counting.
    He returned a moment