Thoughts came and went as he drove. Where had Hope been? Was she well?Try to stay calm, Newman.Yelling would not help the situation. She was back, safe, and that was the important thing… right?
“It’s a crime in any county to strangle someone,” he reminded himself.
Driving past the residential part of Howling, where most of the locals lived who weren’t tucked-up driveways in the trees, he swung into the main street. Immaculate as always, at the early hour of 9:00 a.m., it had plenty of activity. The shops were rustic and in keeping with the whole setting of cute small town. Flowers ran up the middle of the street, and flags fluttered from the Lair, which was the sheriff’s office, and the church, which was the oldest building in Howling.
He found a parking spot outside the Hoot. Jake and Buster were outside, leaning on the front window.
“Six and a half minutes,” Jake said, looking at his watch. Tall and dark, he and his mother were the doctors in town and ran the medical center. Buster was shorter and stocky, and where Jake had a ready smile, Buster had a scowl behind which hid a heart of pure marshmallow.
“Not a bad time for you, man, seeing as my great-aunt Delilah drives faster than you usually.”
“You don’t have a great-aunt Delilah, Buster.”
“But if I did, she’d be faster.”
“Whatever. Where did she go?”
“Who?” both men said.
“Are we really going to play this game?” Newman sighed. “You know I mean Hope.”
“She got off the bus, looked around, and then headed down the road,” Buster said. “You must have just missed her on your way in. Why has she got you so bent out of shape? Tex said he even saw you angry in Brook when she did a runner on you.”
“I told you why.”
“You found her drunk and alone. Yeah, I get that part, but not why you’ve been preoccupied for weeks,” Buster said. He’d taken out a cloth and was polishing the window of his café.
“You’re smearing it,” Newman felt duty bound to say. Willow, Buster’s girl, would be furious when she saw it.
“Men don’t say shit like that, Newman. Now focus,” Jake said. “What’s the deal with you and Hope?” He was eating a muffin. Newman took it.
“No deal. See you later.” He lifted his free hand and started down the street. While he ate, Newman looked in shop windows, but didn’t see her.
“I need a hand changing the light in the rear, Newman, if you have a minute?”
“I’m a bit busy right now, Mrs. Brack, but I’ll get Jake for you.” Stepping out on the street, he saw his friend still standing outside.
“Jake!” His head turned at Newman’s roar.
“What!”
“Mrs. Brack wants you!”
“You’re a dear.” She patted his cheek. “I can always rely on you, Newman.”
“That’s me,” he muttered, “the reliable one.” What the hell was the matter with him? He usually didn’t mind helping people, in fact he thrived on it. He must be coming down with something.
Leaving town on the road he’d just driven in on, he saw her up ahead. Long, determined stride. Something in his chest squeezed and then released. She was safe and home. Increasing his pace, he soon drew near.
“I’ve imagined shaking you quite a few times in the last few weeks.”
She shrieked, then turned, clutching her chest.
“My uncle Bevan called, he wants his poker shirt back,” Newman said, running his eyes over the long lime-green-and-orange checkered shirt she wore. It probably had once been a man’s, as the fit was loose and he could see nothing of her body, which he now knew was quite something. The fabric looked silky, and not in a good way. She wore a short black skirt and the shit kickers. Her hair was up on her head in a messy knot. The hell of it was he thought she looked beautiful, and how was that possible? Newman liked his woman polished and dressed in at least last year’s fashions.
“Christ, you nearly stopped my heart.”
“Payback’s a bitch.”
