“Chief Gleason.”
“Hey there, Brooks, it’s Lindy.”
“What’s the problem, Lindy?”
“Well, that’s what I need to talk about. I got Tybal here with me.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, it’s some shit, but not the kind you’re thinking. You’re going to want to hear what Ty has to say.”
Brooks shoved himself up to sit. “Where are you?”
“Right now, we’re in my truck about a half-mile from the Lowery place. Since your car isn’t in town, I figured you’re there.”
“That’s like police work, Lindy. Why don’t I meet both of you at your place?”
“Rather not do that under the shit we’re talking about. It’s going to be best if we come on over there, talk this out in private. People tend to see things in town, even at an hour like this. Maybe especially.”
“That’s a point. Hold on.” He put his hand over the phone. “I’ve got Lindy—from the diner?”
“Yes, I know who he is.”
“He’s telling me he’s with Tybal Crew, and they need to talk to me in private.”
“Here?”
“If it wasn’t important, and didn’t need to be private, Lindy wouldn’t be calling me at two in the morning.”
“I’ll get dressed.”
“I’ll keep them downstairs, out of your way.”
“I think if someone needs to come here at this hour to talk to you, I should hear what they have to say.”
“All right, then.” He put the phone back to his ear. “Is Ty sober?”
“He is now, or near enough.”
“Come on ahead.”
Shoving one hand through his hair, Brooks set the phone aside. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Even days ago, I wouldn’t have let anyone come here like this. But I don’t feel nervous, not really. I feel more curious. Should I make coffee?”
“It wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”
It pleased her to do it, to think that in her future with Brooks, late-night calls, making coffee for people in trouble, would be part of the routine.
She hoped she’d make a good cop’s wife.
Still, she was just as pleased to know that Bert, with orders to relax, lay in the corner of the kitchen. And she also took the precaution of turning her computer monitors to screen savers.
She wasn’t quite sure how to address two men who visited in the middle of the night, but when she took coffee out to the living room, Brooks let them in the front door.
And Lindy, long gray braid dangling down the back of a faded Grateful Dead T-shirt, led the way.
“Ma’am.” He bobbed his head. “I sure do apologize for disturbing you this time of night.” Then slapped a backfist into Tybal’s gut.
