“After,” says Clay.
“Why not before?” says Zoey.
“I’m not sure I understand the question,” says Clay.
“Everyone washes their hands after they use the restroom.I get it. Just in case something went amiss. But I also wash my hands before I use the restroom. Because the typical person showers in the morning, then puts on clean underwear. That way their private business is clean and remains clean inside a nice undergarment. But their hands have been out in the world since they showered. Touching all sorts of nasty things. Handrails and money and doorknobs. Other people’s hands. You name it. Everything out in the world is dirty and covered in germs, so doesn’t it make sense to wash your hands before pulling down your clean underwear?”
Clay looks at Zoey for a good ten seconds and then says, “The reason I’m here is—”
“I don’t have OCD,” says Zoey.
“It’s okay if you do. There’s no stigma in having OCD. Most successful people in this world have it in one form or another.”
“But I don’t,” says Zoey. “It’s just common sense to wash your hands before you go to the bathroom since there are orifices in one’s nether regions. Easy access for germs. So yeah. Also, if you walk into a men’s restroom and your shoelaces are untied, you should rip them out of your shoes and burn them.”
Clay isn’t quite sure what to make of Chief Zoey Jensen. She’s smart. But she doesn’t seem to be putting those smarts toward anything useful. He’s about to say something when she cuts him off.
“I know why you want to talk to me. Wahlquist told me your uncle Teddy is missing.”
“He is,” says Clay. “Any idea where he might be?”
“Nope,” says Zoey. “The entire department is looking for him. You think he’s involved in something criminal?”
Clay shrugs. “Never know with Teddy. He could have gone up to the cities to see friends. He could have decided to fish Viroqua, Wisconsin. It’s one of his favorite areas. And he just forgot to tell anyone. Including his wife. Which is not like Teddy. Or”—Clay throws a piece of blueberry scone into his mouth and continues—“he might be up to something he shouldn’t be.”
“I know he took off without his car or cell phone,” says Zoey. “That’s a bit odd.”
“Yes,” says Clay. “It is.”
“Have you checked his recent calls and texts?”
“The phone’s locked. Deb says she thought she knew the passcode but Teddy must have changed it. We have nothing. That’s why I’m asking you about criminal activity in town. My father has spoken to the others in the department, but for some reason he’s reticent about speaking to you. I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”
Chief Zoey Jensen thinks about that and says, “I don’t know why Judd would be reticent to talk to me. He trained me for three months. We have a communicative, respectful relationship. Your dad really did put his town first. Riverwood is a better community than most around here because of him. I’m really sorry he feels reluctant to communicate with me.” Zoey’s posture shifts and she adds, “How come you soccer players have such good hair anyway? Why don’t other athletes have hair like soccer players?”
Clay smiles. “Football players wear helmets, so why bother? Same with hockey players. Same with baseball players, only it’s a cap or a helmet. And basketball players play indoors, so they get too sweaty.”
“Does it hurt when you head the ball?” says Zoey.
Clay laughs. “Not if you do it right.”
“You’re a man of the world, Clay Hawkins. This is an interesting conversation. Not the run-of-the-mill small-town talk about weather and fishing and local gossip.”
“How is talk about heading a soccer ball the start of an interesting conversation?” Clay sips his latte and awaits Zoey’s answer.
“That’s what we’ll find out through a little back-and-forth. A tit for tat, if you will. Some talky-talk shadow boxing. A little verbal Rochambeau.”
“No one’s ever called you demure, have they?”
Zoey laughs. Scone shrapnel flies from her mouth and she laughs harder. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” says Clay. “A little scone in the eye never hurt anyone.” Clay blinks hard, then adds, “I’m asking for information that may help me and my father find Teddy.”
“Hmm,” says Zoey. “You’re implying that I’m not looking for Teddy. But you’re wrong. I am. My entire department is looking. I’ve also brought up Teddy with every person I’ve spoken to in the last twenty-four hours. So here’s a question. Do you want to be friends? You and me? I’m kind of new to town. You were gone forever so it’s like you’re new to town. Everyone is so set in their routines. They have their friends. They’re not looking for someone new. What do you think?”
Clay considers Zoey’s proposition. His biggest reservation about moving back to Riverwood after being away for twenty-four years was his romantic prospects. Zoey had just saidI think we should be friendsbut Clay wonders if she meansmore than friends. He does not make this assumption lightly. Or immodestly. Norout of arrogance or obtuseness. The potential pairing of Zoey and himself seems obvious. They are both single. They are the same age. They have both lived in other places for the majority of their lives. They have both survived relationships with Judd Hawkins.
Zoey has deep brown eyes and long hair to match. Clay has heard she rowed crew in college, and she’s maintained her athletic build. She stands the same height as Clay—five foot ten—and runs five miles every day, always ending with a sprint up to the top of Riverview Bluff.
