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Probably. But what if he wasn’t?
Zach’s first inclination was to stay out of sight. His second was to cruise through Fossil Hill, check for out-of-state license plates and then keep his promise to Katie.
“Here we are, honey.” Zach glanced at his watch, then pulled into a parking space in front of the library, between two dusty pickups. Five o’clock—which gave them two hours until the entire five-block business district rolled up its sidewalks and turned off its lights. So far, he hadn’t seen a single suspicious car. “What do you want to do first, go to Miller’s to find some new clothes, or eat at the Pink Petticoat?”
When she didn’t answer, he tousled her white-blond curls and released her seat belt. “This time around, I’ll remember that your little knit play clothes don’t do well in a hot dryer full of jeans. I promise.”
For the past ten years he’d taken extensive, ongoing training; worked countless high-profile cases; traveled throughout much of the country, using his knowledge, determination, and tenacity to track and capture guys who made headline news.
Nothing in that life had prepared him for an operation like this one.
But there were a lot of things he’d learned in the past few weeks. The art of detangling baby-fine, curly hair without making a little girl cry.
The fact that there was only one way a peanut butter sandwich could be prepared—light grape jam, no butter, sliced diagonally, with the crust removed.
And then there were the mysteries of laundry loads requiring “delicate” settings. In the city, he’d sent out his own laundry for years. Now he’d had to master the cantankerous old washer and dryer sitting in a corner of the kitchen. Life Skills 101.
At Miller’s General Store he led Katie by the hand past the housewares, saddle display, and hardware section to the clothing department in the back. Fortunately, he found the same white-haired woman who’d helped him once before.
“Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Sunshine,” she exclaimed, her broad, wrinkled features lighting up with pleasure. “Are you here for some pretty new outfits, again?”
Katie nodded shyly, her hand still gripping Zach’s.
“We need three or four sets of play clothes. I...uh...had a little problem with the laundry.”
“Let me guess.” The woman leaned down and looked at Katie’s pink knit coveralls over her half glasses. The pant’s legs were now well above Katie’s ankles, and a blue tinge marred the area over her chest. She waggled an arthritic forefinger at Zach, though a merry gleam danced in her eyes. “Going to try cold wash, cool dry?”
“From now on.”
“Sorting darks and lights?”
Zach laughed. “Scout’s honor.”
“Okay, then, we’re in business.” She held out a hand. “Come with me, young lady. Let’s check out the big girl racks over here.”
Bemused, Zach leaned against a pillar and watched the friendly clerk waddle away with Katie in tow. She stopped at one rack, then the next, selecting one outfit after another for Katie’s inspection.
In fifteen minutes they were both back and the clerk held an armload of clothing, all in varying shades of pink. “I checked the size label inside her collar so these should be about right. There are six or seven outfits here, and the only thing our little customer knows for sure is her color preference. We need Daddy’s opinion.”
Daddy. He’d reminded Katie often enough that she could call him that, to help preserve their cover and avoid too many questions. But when Janet showed up, Katie would be gone, probably without ever saying the word. Just once...
A small hand tugged on his. “Please?”
Shaking off his thoughts, he looked down into her hopeful face. “Yeah. We’ll take them all.”
“The bow socks, too?” Her voice filled with wonder. “An’ ruffle panties?”
“Those, too.”
“You don’t want to have her try these on?” The clerk nodded toward the dressing rooms in back. “I think they’re the right sizes, but brand names do vary.”
Being cooped up in a tiny dressing room, trying to manage hangers and buttons and what went with what sounded worse than a stakeout parked on Dallas asphalt in July.
“I’ll just keep the receipt and the tags, and exchange anything that doesn’t work out, okay?”
“No, problem, sir.” The clerk trundled to the front of the store. “I imagine your friend is tired of waiting, anyway.”
A chill raised the hairs at the back of Zach’s neck. “Friend? I didn’t come in with anyone but Katie.”
