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“You were with the Bureau?” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “For five years. They were good years. But I wanted roots. I have a wife and two young sons,” he added, chuckling as he turned a photo to face her.
It was a good-looking group. She noticed that his wife was blond and young and pretty. “Your sons look like you,” she said.
“They do,” he said with a sigh. “I wanted a pretty little blond girl like my sweetheart there.” He indicated the photo. “But God really doesn’t take orders.” He laughed.
“There’s always hope,” she pointed out.
“Always.” He got up. “Whatever you need, just ask.” He frowned. “Why did you leave the Bureau after just a year?”
“They had me filing and typing up reports,” she said sadly. “It wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing. At least here, the sheriff lets me do investigations and talk to people who don’t wear guns.”
“I’m sure he’s grateful for the help,” he added. “The job doesn’t pay much, but it comes with a certain amount of prestige, just the same. Welcome home, Miss Dawson. You’re going to like living here. Your dad was a fine man.”
“He was. Thanks.”
“If you need help during the winter, you can always ask Dal Blake,” he added. “His place is right next door to yours, and he’s a good man. He’ll do what he can for you.”
“I’m sure he would,” she said without feeling. “Thanks again, Mr. Jones.”
“No, thank you.”
She turned, curious. “What for?”
“Well, for one thing, for not asking if I retired from a singing career.” He burst out laughing at her expression. “I can just imagine what Jeff told you about me. Tell him that the next chess game is mine by forfeit.”
“I’ll tell him.” She grinned. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
* * *
Jeff was grinning when she got back to the office with the printed documents she’d obtained with a court order, just so everything was legal.
“Did you ask him if he sang?”
“He said you forfeited the next chess match.” She laughed.
He sighed. “Well, I guess I should. But he’s a good sport. Good security man, too. He was Army intelligence overseas, and he’s been both a policeman and an FBI agent.”
“He told me. I’ll bet he was good at it.”
“He was, but he had a girlfriend—now his wife—who informed him that she wasn’t lining up to be a widow with him in that sort of work. He had to make a choice, and she won. I don’t think he ever regretted it. If you ever see them together, they’re like two halves of a whole. Still deeply in love after two kids.” He shook his head. “Surprised a lot of people when he married her. There’s a fourteen-year age difference. She said love doesn’t have an age limit and ignored the gossip.” He laughed. “I guess love does triumph.”
“I guess so.” She was thinking of the age difference between herself and Dal Blake and hated herself for it.
“I wish you’d reconsider the dance,” Jeff said solemnly. “You could wear a pantsuit. Nobody would gossip about you.”
She drew in a long breath. “Let me think about it for a day or two, okay? I’m not really a party person. And Dal Blake will probably be there,” she added darkly.
“You really don’t like him, do you?” he asked, and looked pleased.
“No. I really don’t. He’s arrogant and blunt and impolite . . .”
Jeff held up a hand. “No time for that now. We have to get back to work. I’m sending Gil with you to interview Russell Harris. He works part-time at the Bar K Burger joint. He’ll be on his lunch break in ten minutes. I’ve already alerted his boss that you’re on the way.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
