“I can walk.”
“Give me your cell phone number in case I need to talk to you again.”
Her eyes widened, bright with excitement. “Honest?”
“Yes.” He was certifiable, but he hadn’t been through a forensics class in a few years. It wouldn’t hurt to brush up with an overachiever.
He rattled off his number, and she sent her contact. “Man, you need to get a phone where we can air send contact. That was too slow.”
“Noted. Officer Vogel will be here in a minute. We’re going to walk the scene. You can watch. After, you need to get home.” For good reason, her mother got twitchy when she disappeared.
“It’s all good. She GPS tracks me.” She flounced over to the closest bench and plopped in a loose-limbed flounce.
Vogel parked in Slade’s lot. He walked to her car, putting his back to Mia.
Carmen handed him his coffee, then raised a brow at the young girl. “Both men have settled. What’s she up to? Did she steal our Santa? Please, tell me yes. I’ve got two house robberies and a car accident already on my desk.”
“Nope, she’s investigated the scene for us. Taking a forensics class online. Already gave me a brief.”
Carmen groaned. “What is she, like twelve?”
“Fourteen. High school. Well, past high school classes, hence online.”
“Girl needs a hobby.”
“She had one. We talked her into dropping rocket science. Exploding mailbox – remember last Christmas?”
Carmen tipped her head and glared the girl’s way, grinding her teeth. “Okay, what did she find?”
“Let’s walk it through and verify her conclusions.”
Chapter Two
With the library closed for lunch, Summer left there and decided to grocery shop. She wasn’t the best cook for two reasons. She never practiced, and when she tried she got sidetracked by painting and drawing ideas. Truthfully, when she lived in Jonathan’s house in San Francisco, he had a chef. She fully admitted she had been spoiled and missed Chef Tres Renault.
Gradually, she’d learned the ins and outs of her crockpot and shamelessly utilized Olivia Applegate, Tom’s grandmother, for the best recipes. Clem Harlowe, owner of Clem’s Restaurant, would definitely argue with the ‘best’ designation, but Olivia won every Echo Falls contest.
Summer navigated through light traffic to park in Sal’s Grocery. The store sprawled over the full corner on Main Street and the State Highway. The building was by far the biggest in town minus the courthouse and the brewery. She tipped her head and studied the fiesta red building with its two entrances and automatic doors. Sal’s Grocery was painted in white script across the front.
When had this upgrade happened?
It used to be a wonderful shade of rusty sienna. With her painter’s eye, she studied the color and shook her head. Must be the Christmas lights from Clem’s and Slade’s spotlighting the block, but the vibrant red shrank the building and wasn’t doing the business any favors. But nobody asked her, and the locals didn’t care as long as Sal’s had beer, popcorn, and bread flour at midnight on any given night.
“Find these ingredients and get out,” Summer coached herself. The store carried the widest possible array of groceryitems, but it also stocked aisle after aisle of non-grocery products from clothing to toys to tools to beauty products. One-stop shopping. Hence, distraction.
She scrolled through her list identifying which aisles she needed to eliminate the urge to browse. If she stayed with these, she’d get home on time to get the recipe in the cooker. Walking inside, she noted the store wasn’t crowded, thankfully. Tom might be able to buzz in and grab here and grab there, but she needed time to study and process what she was doing. As a kid and a teenager, neither grandparent had spent any time teaching her to cook. She painted and ate what was put in front of her.
Chicken, sauce ingredients, rice, and vegetables later, she stood in the bakery and finally grabbed the apple pie and rolls. Maybe Olivia would have time later to teach her how to bake. Was she overdoing it? Tom knew she didn’t cook when he married her.
She carefully set the items in the cart and turned toward checkout. She was descending into ridiculous here. She had enough on her plate without baking pies or bread!
“Excuse me, ma’am. You look like my wife.”
Tom’s deep voice washed over her. Summer jerked around. Tom in his uniform was enough to make her heart do a hard flip before settling into a happy pitter patter. She went on tiptoe to kiss him. “Give a girl some warning will you?”
“What are you doing?” He peeked over her shoulder at the cart.
“I have a crockpot recipe your grandmother gave me. I’m going to make it when I get home. Okay with you?” Could she sneak a picture of him with her phone? She had a special Christmas present in mind, but needed current pictures of him in uniform so she could draw the details accurately.
