Or maybe Cody Burton felt like he didn’t have any other option.
They pulled into the first pawn shop’s parking lot. Duke’s ears swiveled forward alertly, but he made no move to jump out of the truck when Nelson got out and followed Lucas into the shop. The place was brightly lit, jewelry, guns, and electronics displayed in cases and in locked cabinets.
The guy behind the counter wore a navy blue polo with the shop’s logo stitched on the chest and a wary expression. He lifted his eyebrows in greeting. “Morning, officers,” he said.
Lucas identified himself as he pulled out an enlarged picture of Gunther’s wife’s hand. “Anything like this come in recently?”
The clerk took the picture and studied the ring. Even enlarged it was difficult to see the details, the diamond chips that disappeared into the white gold. “No,” he said finally, and offered the page back across the counter. “I’m not sure we’d even take something like that on pawn. It’s small. People today want bling. Flashy.”
“Keep it,” Lucas said as he wrote his cell phone number on the bottom of the page. “If you get something like that in, call me.”
“You got it,” the clerk said, “but this ring isn’t worth the cost of gas to drive down here from Walkers Ford.”
“It is to the man whose wife wore it for sixty-two years.”
The clerk shrugged, apparently unimpressed by a six-decade marriage.
They repeated the same conversation with only minor variations at three other pawn shops, then drove through for a fast-food lunch, eaten in the truck on the way back to Walkers Ford. Lucas shared half his French fries with Duke, still sitting alertly in the backseat.
“You’re not supposed to reward K-9 animals with food,” Nelson muttered.
This was true. The dogs were rewarded with play for a job well-done, not treats. “He’s not working. He’s retired,” Lucas said. “Do you have any idea what Gran did to get the roses along the east side of the house to bloom? The stalks come up every year, but the buds don’t bloom.”
“No idea. Why?”
“Alana’s been asking about them. I didn’t pay attention while Gran was alive, and I packed her books away when Alana moved in. I thought you’d know.”
“Nope. What do you think about spending the money to fix up the library?”
There was no love lost between Nelson and Mitch Turner. Lucas knew Nelson would rather run naked through the town square than call the mayor and ask about the budget. “I think we’ve got a shrinking tax base and a growing crime problem,” Lucas said. “Alana’s updating the proposal.”
“Whatever it is, it’s too much,” he said, and looked around Lucas’s aging truck.
Lucas didn’t argue with him. He drove the Blazer because he spent less time out on patrol than his officers did, but they needed a new vehicle, upgrades to the computers and cameras in the existing cars, and that was just the top of his list.
“I hear you’ve been spending time with the librarian.”
“You know about the plumbing in that house,” Lucas said. “The kitchen’s a liability. I’m going to renovate before the next tenant moves in. She’s doing me a favor letting me work on the house while she’s still in it.”
Nelson just gave him a look. “That’s one mistake you can’t afford to make.”
His uncle’s voice was oddly gentle under the gruff. “There’s no mistake to be made,” Lucas said.
“She’s a consultant,” he said. The way he said it equated the word consultant with vulture.
“I know that.”
“Even if she was hired, she’s not local. She doesn’t know the community like you do.”
Nelson underestimated Alana’s ability to dig out, assimilate, and use information. She didn’t know Walkers Ford like he did, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. For better or for worse, she wasn’t paying attention to the way things were done, the habits and silos they all occupied. She saw the community in a completely different way, an analytical way that left no room for emotions, feelings, networks.
“She’s leaving,” Lucas said.
That was indisputable fact. She had a job to go back to, in a city famous for art, music, and theater. Family. Work that spanned the globe. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glad to see the exit for Walkers Ford. “I’m not making a mistake.”
You are, he thought unsentimentally. You’re making a mistake. You know it, and you’re going to do it anyway. Because knowing something’s doomed to fail never stopped you from trying. You’re a professional at tilting at windmills. Because you like jousting.
The thought made him laugh. Nelson and Duke both looked at him curiously, but he didn’t explain.
“This was a waste of time,” Nelson said.
“Grammie died wishing she had her engagement ring back.”