Standing up straight because he couldn’t help himself, Brantley pasted on a smile.“Good mornin’, Mrs.Elliott.”
She chuckled, her expression softening.“First, let me apologize for my manners.Good morning.”Rose swatted a hand in his direction.“And secondly, Mrs.Elliott was what you called me when I taught you in third grade.Since we’re all grownups now, you can call me Rose.”
Brantley wasn’t sure he could do that, but he nodded his head and fought the urge to salute her and call herma’am.
Rose looked a lot like her older sister, Lorrie.She had the same softness to her face, the same intelligent blue eyes.If Brantley recalled correctly, Rose was about a decade younger than Lorrie, but they both looked significantly younger than they probably should, considering they’d raised such rowdy boys.And yeah, Rose’s sons—Kieran, Brad, Grady, Vince, Slade, and Spencer—could easily give him and his brothers a run for their money.Hell, they were quite possibly rowdier than Travis and his brothers back in the day.
“I’m here on behalf of my niece Callie.”Rose pointed away from the diner, far off into the distance.“As you probably know, she’s the principal of CRHS.”
Was that what she was doing?Aiming in the direction of Coyote Ridge High School?
Perhaps she thought she was.It was actually a bit south of her position, but Brantley wasn’t about to tell her that.He also didn’t tell her he didn’t know she was related to the principal.Or that he didn’t even know the principal’s name until two seconds ago.Since he wasn’t around kids that fell in that age range, Brantley didn’t keep up with the goings-on at the high school.Or any of the schools, for that matter, except for the rare occasions when his nieces or nephew had a Christmas pageant or something of the sort.
“Is everything all right?”Reese asked.
“No.”Rose sighed heavily.“Someone stole the mustang.”
Brantley frowned.“Are we talkin’ a car or a horse?”
“Horse.Specifically, the bronze statue,” Rose clarified.“From in front of the school.”
It took a moment for that to sink in.When it did, Brantley wasn’t sure whether he was worried or impressed.Considering the rearing horse sculpture probably weighed close to half a ton, he had to give props to whoever pulled off that prank.And since the principal wasn’t aware of it being rehomed, he had to figure that was what this was.However, he tended not to leap to conclusions.
“Maybe someone sent it out to get repaired and didn’t tell the boss?”he suggested.
“If only it were that easy.”
Brantley waited for her to say more, but Rose simply stared back at them with what looked like expectation in her cool blue eyes.
It freaked him out that his first instinct was to fidget like he had back when he was in the third grade.
Reese fought the urge to laugh.
In all the time he’d known Brantley, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him quite so … uncomfortable.Almost as though he was standing in the principal’s office, about to be reprimanded.Not having a casual discussion in a parking lot with one of his former teachers.
Sure, she was now a school board member, but what did that matter?They didn’t have kids in school.Didn’t know anyone who did.
Well, that wasn’t true.They knew people.People who had kids.In school.Not high school.Probably.
Regardless, Mrs.Elliott was harmless because they were grown men now, not kids.
So why was she looking at them like that?Like she was studying them, looking deep into their thoughts.Was that something they taught in teacher school?How to intimidate kids.Or grown men, as was the case here.
Okay, so maybe he understood a little of Brantley’s discomfort.Mrs.Elliott had been one of Reese’s favorite teachers, but coming face to face with her now was strange.
Since neither Rose nor Brantley appeared eager to speak up, Reese asked, “Is there somethin’ you’d like us to do about the statue?”
Rose’s gaze shifted to him.“Yes.Find it.”
Reese’s eyebrows hopped toward his hairline.“Find it?”
She flashed a smile at Tesha, reaching down to pet her head.“Yes.”
Surely he wasn’t understanding.“The bronze statue?”
She stood tall once more.“Correct.”
Now it was his turn to stammer.“We … umm … that’s not usually the … uh … the sort of case we handle.”
