I glanced in the rearview mirror and found the judge fashioning his robe's belt into a necktie. "All right," I said. "I'll be back within an hour or so. Let me know if you hear anything else."
"You got it, boss," she replied.
I followed the coast road up to the Markham estate. From the street, I spotted Brooke running across the lawn and a handful of other people spread out behind the main house. As I pulled into the driveway, I rolled down the window. "Brooke," I called.
She stopped and then sprinted toward me. "If you're here for relationship advice, this is the wrong time." She rested her hands on her hips and bent at the waist as she caught her breath. "My father took a walk around the garden but now we're not sure where—"
"I have him," I said, hooking my thumb over my shoulder. The judge was busy adjusting his robe.
She pressed her palm to her chest as relief washed over her. Then she yelled, "Oh my god, what? Where was he?"
I opened the door and stepped onto the gravel, forcing her back a few steps. I wanted to have this conversation with some degree of privacy. "He was hiking up the coast road," I said. "He tells me he's late for court."
She sagged, her eyes drifting shut for a minute. "He's always late for court." Just as quickly as she'd softened, her spine snapped straight again. "Lettie," she called. "The sheriff picked him up. Take him inside, would you?"
A tall woman wearing pale pink scrubs headed for the SUV's backseat to collect the judge. Two more women joined her. He was delivering a ruling, too busy with his recitation to notice the people shuffling him into the house.
"We need to have a conversation about this," I said, gesturing toward the cluster around her father.
"I am not obligated to discuss anything with you, sheriff," Brooke replied, her fear and vulnerability quickly replaced with her usual brand of firepower. "Thank you for finding him. There's nothing else for us to discuss."
"Brooke, I am only trying to help you," I argued. "Has he wandered off before? Is it Alzheimer's? Dementia?"
"It's none of your fucking business and I don't need your help," she replied. "I have this under control."
"Excuse me, ma'am, but you don't," I replied. "He was gone long enough to make it a mile and a half from home and in that time, you didn't report him missing."
"He's never left the grounds before," she said. "I fully intended to contact the station if we couldn't find him on the property."
"Your property covers half the town," I argued. "With all due respect, ma'am, you should've called the minute he went missing."
She eyed me up and down. "He's home now. That's the only thing that matters."
"I have to disagree with you, ma'am. He was walking along one of the most dangerous highways in the state. Aside from the fact he could've been hit by a car, he could've tripped and fallen off a rocky cliff into the ocean." I gestured to the house. "It seems like you have assistance here but it wasn't enough this time and you're fooling yourself if you think it won't happen again."
Brooke ran her tongue along her upper lip and crossed her arms. "Thank you for bringing my father home. You can go now."
I stared at her, frustrated that she wouldn't use her good sense and let me help her protect him. "The next time this happens, call me immediately," I said, stabbing the air between us. There would be a next time, I'd put money on it. If the judge found a way to give his caretakers the slip today, he'd do it again. "Whatever territorial pride issue that's preventing you from recognizing reason won't help you the next time he's gone."
"Thank you again," she said, inclining her head toward the street. "I trust you'll show yourself out."
"Does Annette know about this?"
Brooke blinked at me, unmoved. That lady was a tough nut to crack. "I'm not obligated to answer that question," she replied. "You'd do well to keep Annette out of this and keep your private life separate from the professional."
With that, she stalked into the house and slammed the door behind her.
By the time I made it back to the station, it was late in the afternoon. I was tired and hungry, and in need of some good news. Hell, I'd be happy with no news if it meant I could grab a bite to eat.
Cindy greeted me with a fistful of messages and a folded newspaper. "Nothing urgent except Debbie Ball standing in the middle of the street yelling at cars again. She's been at it every day for the past week. She hasn't let up since the town council meeting," she said, tapping her finger on the papers. "But there's a nice write-up about our little Annette's bookstore, right here in the Portland paper. Fancy, huh?"
"Very fancy," I agreed, tucking the papers under my arm. "Thanks, Cindy."
"You got it, boss," she chirped. "I'm gonna take my break now if it's no trouble. Annette has a few books squirreled away for me. I'll only be a few minutes but I can wait if you need anything from me."
"Go right ahead. No trouble at all."
I headed into my office but left the door open. I dropped everything on my desk to scrounge for a snack. My search turned up little more than a bag of pretzels that seemed too flat to yield anything of substance.
