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“He had no clue you’d actually shoot him,” Peyton said.
“I would have if I thought he was behind it. I didn’t see his vest because he wore a coat, but he showed it and his badge to me.”
“Did you get his name?”
“I did, Marlowe. I might call MDOL to make sure, though.” Dylan nibbled on her bottom lip.
“It sure wouldn’t hurt.”
“His badge hung on a chain around his neck, and I couldn’t see it. I can only go by what he told me.”
“What did he say his name was?”
“Alexander Reeves.”
“I’d call them to make sure. You never know with rustlers. They could have a fake badge, and the vest could have been stolen.” Marlowe touched her hand.
“I’ll call them after I get home. I have so much to do this afternoon. I have to pick up Zoey, then I have three appointments with buyers. I hate that I don’t have Toga. He’s my best bull.”
After eating, they paid their bill and walked outside to see snow flurries.
“You know, I love it here, but the snow I could do without,” Peyton said as she bundled her coat around her.
“Yeah, we know how you feel about snow. I need to get going. I have to pick up some items before returning to the shop,” Marlowe said.
“I’ve got the shop covered, so take your time.”
Dylan smiled. Peyton and Marlowe owned an ice cream shop called Scoops of Joy, which did great. She hugged her friends.
“How is married life, Marlowe?” Dylan asked.
“Wonderful. I love my cowboy. We’re going out tonight for our date night, but if you need me, please call me.”
“All right. Well, I’ve got to run. Call me later. I’ll see you Friday evening.”
Friday evenings were their girl’s night. They gathered at Dylan’s house, stayed in and watched movies, had drinks, and gossiped. Dylan smiled. It wasn’t really gossiping. It was more about keeping up with the goings on in Clifton. She couldn’t wait; she needed something to take her mind off her missing bull.
****
Alex entered the MDOL building, took the elevator to the fourth floor, then stepped out. He walked to his desk, removed his coat and hat, sat, and opened the computer to recent thefts. He scanned through them until he found Dylan Walters’ case.
“Alex? Come to my office,” his boss, Dave Merkle, said as he passed his desk. Alex watched him enter his office, then he got up, followed him, and sat in a chair when Dave motioned for him to sit.
“What’s up?”
Dave strode around his desk and sat.
“How’s the Walters’ case going?”
“Damn, Dave. I’m just getting started on it. She almost shot me last night.”
“Like that’s the first time someone pointed a gun at you.”
“Still scares the hell out of me.”
“I’m sure it does. You came close to dying.”
“Yeah, I’d rather not think about that,” Alex said, as he ran his hand around the nape of his neck.
