Kevin parked on the side of the street. He really did hate these calls. So what if Sam had rescued a cat from a tree and Jo had handled the dispute at the Laundromat the other night? The truth was that he was the one that got them the most.
If he had accepted the full-time job, would things be different? They’d hire another part-timer, and maybe the new guy would get all the crappy calls. But then Kevin would be working full time with Sam and Jo, and he wasn’t sure he’d fit in. He just didn’t click with them.
He didn’t need the money, anyway. He patted the note that was still in his pocket. Not now that he had this little side job. The side job was easy. All he had to do was keep his eyes and ears open and report back specific pieces of information. It paid more than a full-time police salary, and he was still helping to serve justice in some way. Or at least that was what he told himself.
He got out of the car and headed toward the old ladies, the note crinkling ominously in his pocket as he crossed the street.
Chapter Twenty
Sam would have preferred to talk to the rest of the campers right after Noah and Amber, but the three disturbance calls that had come in were of an urgent nature and took precedence.
Then again, letting Amber and Noah report back to the others so they could all stew about it overnight could work in their favor. Might make the killer nervous. And nervous killers were bound to screw up.
Too bad the interviews had only left Sam with more questions. Maybe this disturbance at the campground would answer some of those questions.
He careened into the main parking lot, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Ellie ran out to meet him.
"There’s a dog running loose down by the river, barking and making all kinds of ruckus. It’s scaring the kids, and the campers are complaining."
Sam’s stomach sank. Lucy? Hopefully she hadn’t found another body in the river.
He headed toward the river. Sure enough, Lucy was there at the bank, barking and pacing. When she saw him, she stopped and ran over to him.
Sam crouched down to her level and patted her neck, his eyes scanning the water. No body. "I guess you ran away again? Don’t like the accommodations at the pound?"
"Woof!"
Lucy swung around and splashed back into the water then looked back at Sam as if wanting him to follow.
"You want to swim? You’re gonna ruin all that nice work they did on your fur."
Lucy did a half spin then planted her feet in front of her, those whiskey eyes demanding his attention. She barked again, this time low and insistent. She stuck her nose in the water then jerked it out, flinging drops around. She looked back at Sam as if she were hoping he wasn’t too stupid to get the message.
Sam splashed out to her. This was the rocky part of the river, and the water was only about five inches deep. At least this time he didn’t have his dress shoes on; his solid black boots were already in pretty bad shape.
The river was crystal clear. You could see every rock and grain of sand. In the slower-running sections, you could see tiny baby fish when the sunlight slanted in at just the right angle.
Lucy had her eyes fixed on a large gray rock. It was flat on the top, and something dark that wasn’t a rock or sand or anything natural looked to be wedged underneath it.
Sam reached into the freezing-cold water, pried the rock up, grabbed the thing underneath it, and pulled it out.
It was a cell phone.
Sam handled the cell phone gingerly, trying not to touch too much of it even though he knew the water had already washed off any fingerprints or DNA evidence. He wasn’t even sure it was Lynn’s or that anything could be recovered from it.
He rummaged an evidence bag out of the crime scene kit in the back of the Tahoe and slipped the phone into it. Lucy sat at his heels, looking up as if awaiting his praise.
"Yes, you did a good job. Seems like you’ve got quite a nose for police work."
Lucy gazed up at him. She looked happy. Her face almost looked as if she were smiling. Her thick, furry tail swished back and forth excitedly.
"But I can’t keep you."
Lucy still looked happy, but her tail swishing slowed down.
"If you’re hungry, maybe I could get you a burger."
Her tail swishing sped up again.
Sam hated the idea of taking the dog back to the shelter. What did they even feed them in there? Probably some kind of generic kibble. The least he could do was get her a burger at Spirits. Maybe one of the specialty burgers.
Sam wondered what kinds of add-ons dogs liked. Hadn’t he heard that some "people" food was toxic for them? Better to get her a plain burger or maybe that pot roast from the diner that she liked.
Sam opened the tailgate. "Okay, get in."
Lucy hopped in and immediately trotted up front to the passenger seat, leaving a trail of wet, sandy footprints along the way.
Sam just shook his head and smiled. The fur on Lucy’s legs and belly was soaked from being in the river, and the passenger seat would be all wet. That was Jo’s problem, though. She was the only one that ever sat there.
He was just pulling out of the campground when the police radio in the car crackled. It was Reese. "Sam, I just got a call in. There is a disturbance down at Holy Spirits. Fight in progress, and it looks like a bad one."
Sam flipped on the siren and stepped on the gas.
The inside of Holy Spirits looked as if a tornado had ripped through it. It smelled of beer, sweat, and anger. The air buzzed with excitement.
One table was overturned, three chairs lay on their sides, and the bar patrons were standing in a circle. Two large men stood in the middle. Judging by the swollen lip on one and the shiner already making an appearance on the other, Sam knew they’d already been fighting for a while.
"Break it up! White Rock Police!" Sam pushed his way through the crowd, holding out his badge. There was no need for the badge—everyone in the bar knew him. Especially the two men fighting.
Jerry Vetter and Ed Clough hated each other. It was all because of Lily Simmons. She’d been dating Ed when Jerry caught her eye five years ago when they were seniors in high school. Lily and Jerry were married now.
You’d think Ed would’ve gotten over it by now, but occasionally, he started it up with Jerry all over again. Typically in the bar after a few beers. It usually only amounted to a few black eyes and sometimes broken fingers. But Sam had to stop the fight just the same.
"He’s got this coming, Chief." Ed addressed Sam but kept his eyes on Jerry.
"Come on, Ed. You know fighting never solves anything. All it does is get you with some doctor bills." Sam’s tone was casual, but his body was tense, waiting to take action if the fighting got bad. Sometimes he let them throw a few punches and get it out of their system. If things got too rough, he’d have to jump in.
"Bastard ruined my life." Ed swung again, his fist connecting with Jerry’s chin.
Jerry’s face jerked to the right. Spittle and flecks of blood flew outward. The crowd jumped back.
Jerry turned toward Ed, anger gleaming in his eyes. He punched Ed first in the stomach, then the chin. Ed staggered back then whirled around, picking up one of the chairs and holding it over his head.
Sam jumped in between them, holding his hand out. "You don’t want to do that, Ed. Willful destruction of property. Billie might sue you."
Ed swung the chair anyway. Sam barreled into him, disrupting the force of the blow. The chair grazed painfully off his shoulder and smashed to the floor, one leg cracking loudly as it splintered off from the bottom of the seat.