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He laughed. “Good point.” He indicated the huge .45 1911 model Colt in the holster on his own wide hand-tooled leather belt. “I like something with stopping power.”
“Have you ever had to shoot anyone?” she asked solemnly.
He nodded. His face hardened. “A guy who’d just killed his five-year-old son. He was high on meth and he came at me with a combat knife.” He averted his eyes just briefly. “I had a 9 millimeter pistol, like yours,” he added. “I emptied it into him and he caught me by the throat. If my undersheriff, Gil Barnes, hadn’t been sent to assist by the 911 operator, I’d be dead. You might have noticed from the glimpse you got of Gil that he packs a .45, like mine. He took the man down. It was a hard lesson. Sometimes you need a weapon that will knock a man down in a deadly circumstance. That was why .45 caliber handguns were invented in the first place, for their stopping power.”
Her lips parted on a rushed breath. She recalled the man who’d attacked her in the interrogation cell, where she hadn’t had her firearm. She wondered if she’d have the nerve to actually kill a man who threatened her life. Her batting average in gun battles was dismal.
“You were lucky,” she pointed out.
He nodded. “Damned lucky. So you think it through and decide if you want to keep that,” he indicated her pistol, “or exchange it for one like mine.”
She smiled sadly. “Jeff, my hands aren’t made for big weapons.” She displayed them. “I even had trouble with the .38 I trained with at the academy. My firing instructor said I needed to keep doing hand exercises to build up my strength. But it never really worked. I just have small hands.”
He sighed. “I’ll make sure you always have backup,” he promised. “But that one shooting was the only one I’ve been involved in for the seven years I’ve been sheriff,” he said encouragingly. “So maybe you’ll get lucky.”
She grinned. “Maybe I will. Okay. I’m here. I’ve been photographed, fingerprinted, grilled and chilled, and licensed to carry a concealed weapon if I so desire. So what do I do first, boss?”
He chuckled. “I like that. Boss.” He turned back to his desk and pulled out a file folder. “This is a photo I took off the Internet. It shows a lamp like the one that was stolen just recently. I know, it’s a light case, but I’m starting you off with easy stuff. Okay?”
She didn’t take offense. It was early times. “That’s fine. What do you want me to do?”
“Go into Raven Springs and talk to Mike Markson at the Yesterday Place. It’s our only antique shop. See what he can tell you about the lamp. If we know what it’s worth and who might want it, we might get a break on a suspect.”
“I’ll go right now.”
“He’s on the main drag,” he told her. “You can drive one of our cars, if you like.”
“I’d rather drive my own SUV,” she said. “Since I’m a plainclothes investigator.” She frowned. “Did you want me to wear a uniform?”
“Not necessary,” he said easily. “Wear what you like. Well, short of low-cut red dresses,” he added, forcing down a helpless grin.
She glared at him. “He told you!”
He burst out laughing. “Sorry. Really. I just couldn’t resist it. Dal said the whole coal bin fell on you.”
She ground her teeth together. “Dal Blake is an animal,” she said shortly.
He raised both eyebrows. “Well, when it comes to women, he probably is,” he agreed. He chuckled. “We’ve been friends since high school. I’d give a lot to have his charm.”
“There are other words for that,” she muttered.
“Now, now,” he said gently. “He’d just break your heart if you got involved with him. He’s not a forever after sort of guy.”
“I knew that the first time I met him,” she confessed. She managed a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not breaking my heart over him. I had a huge crush on him when I started college.” She forced a laugh. “It didn’t survive the last Christmas dance.”
He pursed his lips and whistled, laughing. “That was memorable, too. I wasn’t there, but I heard about it. Old man Grayson’s wife gave him hell all the way home about coming on to you, not to mention having him embarrass you by tipping the punch bowl over on your dress.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t much of a dress,” she confessed. “Dal said that.” He averted his eyes. He was laying it on thick, but he didn’t want her looking in Dal’s direction. He wanted that ranch, and she was going to eventually have to sell it. Both men needed the water rights. Jeff wanted them very badly.
She wasn’t bad looking, and he didn’t have a steady girl. So if courting her got him the land, why not?
“Dal can shut up,” she said under her breath. “His opinion is no concern of mine.”
He smiled. “Exactly. Now get out there and find that lamp.”
“Yes, sir.” She grinned as she went out the door.
Chapter 3
