The familiar voice of Jake Weller boomed in his ears. "Get your ass down here and drag this old coot home! He's harassing my jailer!"
"Jake, what are you doing in town? You're supposed to be practically retired."
"Come down and I'll tell you all about it. I just got back this morning."
Dean was more than pleased to hear his old friend's voice. In spite of his trepidation at contact with any element of the law this morning, knowing Jake Weller was involved gave Dean a measure of comfort. Whatever happened, Dean knew he could count on the sheriff's fairness and honesty. He filled a thermos of coffee-no one could drink Weller's brew-and wasted no time in arriving at the sheriff's office.
Jake Weller was seated in his familiar position behind his desk dressed in his wrinkled uniform. He smiled beneath his handlebar moustache, a scene from the old west. There was no sign of Fitzgerald, Lydia Larkin, the jailer, or Fred O'Connor.
"Sit down," Weller said.
Dean waited, a knot forming in his stomach. "Where's Fred?" he managed to say, trying his best to keep his voice casual.
"He took Kathleen out to breakfast. Something about spending his gin rummy winnings. He'll be back in twenty minutes or so."
Dean sat. "What's going on? Why are you back on the job?"
"I got a call early this morning to fill in for a while. The word is Fitzgerald is out of action-all hush-hush-called back to Denver, I hear."
"Out of action?"
Weller just shrugged. "And Lydia's taking a sick day-woman stuff, I guess." He changed the subject before Dean could ask more. "I was sorry to hear about your kid, Martha. That was a stupid thing the state did, putting her back with her mother so quickly. I spoke with some Denver friends. They think Patsy Boyd stashed the kid with a relative or a buddy and the girl's okay. I know that doesn't help much, but it's a mother-daughter thing and I don't think the kid is in any danger. Seems to me Martha's pretty sharp and can take care of herself pretty well."
Dean thanked Weller for his concern and asked, "What's the deal with Fitzgerald? When is he coming back?"
"Nobody tells me anything. I just follow orders. He's probably needed for something he was working on before he left."
"Did he tell you himself?" Dean asked.
"Naw. Some mucky muck from Denver. I talked to Lydia on the phone. She didn't seem surprised. So how's the election coming? I hear you're doing pretty well in spite of getting your head knocked off at the debate."