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“Exactly how far away from the ticket booth did all this happen?” Mimi asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe twenty or thirty feet.”
Zeke exchanged a look with Mimi. “Far enough that someone might have gotten into the ticket booth without my officer noticing?”
Sam nodded slowly. “Definitely.”
*~*~*
“Promise me you won’t yell at him. Rusty can be very sensitive, you know.” Mimi readjusted her seat belt for the third time since they’d gotten back in the car. The damn thing seemed to be stuck or something.
“First off, I never yell. I talk loudly.” Zeke changed lanes and glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just a little car sick,” she said.
“Since when do you get car sick?”
He had a point. “I haven’t slept or eaten right for days. Let’s just get past this next week, please.”
“I promise I won’t yell at Rusty if you promise me you’ll see Doc Morrison about your stomach. Maybe you’re getting an ulcer.”
“That’s what I thought. Okay, I promise I’ll go see Doc.” She dreaded what she had to say next, but they were almost back to Whispering Bay and neither of them had brought up the most obvious of subjects. “What are you going to do about your dad? And Jeremy?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Zeke.” A muscle on the side of his cheek twitched. “He seems like a nice kid.”
“Yeah. A little mouthy, maybe.”
Mimi laughed. “He’s a choir boy compared to you at that age.”
“You didn’t know me at that age.”
“I knew of you. We might not have gotten together until you were nineteen but I knew who you were. Don’t forget, I was a sophomore when you were a senior and the terror of Whispering Bay High.”
“That nickname came from my baseball rep.” He was a quiet for a few minutes. “He does seem like a good kid. Too bad Sam Grant is his father.”
“He’s your father, too. No matter what he’s done in the past, he’s still your blood. People aren’t perfect, Zeke. We make mistakes and we hurt each other, even when we don’t mean to.”
He raised a brow at her. “What? Are you psychoanalyzing me now?”
“It’s what you told me the night I was upset about Claire. It’s true, you know. If the past year has taught me anything, it’s that we have to forgive each other and move on. Otherwise, we’ll all die bitter, lonely old people.”
Zeke had called ahead and asked both Rusty and Cindy to meet him at police headquarters. They were huddled together in the reception area and they looked worried. Or guilty. Or possibly both.
Hell. He was one hundred percent certain neither of them had anything to do with the missing money, but he was going to have to call them out on what went down last night.
He ushered them into his office and shut the door. Mimi was there, too. She sat in a chair next to the window, looking very mayor-like. It occurred to Zeke (not for the first time, either) that technically, she was his boss.
“Okay,” Zeke said, looking directly at his deputy and his receptionist. “So, how long have you two been dating?”
Cindy burst into tears. Rusty looked flabbergasted. “How did you know?”
Zeke reached into his desk to hand Cindy a box of tissues, then recounted everything Sam Grant had told him.
“Please, don’t blame Rusty, Chief,” Cindy said, sniffling, “He was so diligent! I should never have distracted him.”
“No, it’s all my fault, Chief. Go ahead, fire me. I deserve it. Not only did I let you down, but I let down the good people of Whispering Bay. Don’t blame Cindy. None of this is her fault.”
