Indivisible. Part 31

"Like the racc.o.o.ns, you mean."

"Yeah. He's afraid word will get out that aliens are operating on our pets."

She stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"He doesn't want animal rights groups interfering with the growth and health of our community. It's just politics. One part of my job I hate-although today it's a tossup." He stood, lanky and lupine with an inner agitation behind his weary eyes.

"Take care now."

She said, "I will." But who would take care of him? She stood and watched until he was gone, then pressed a hand to her heart. Lucy was waiting.

Piper slipped out from the counter and into the kitchen to check the sourdough sponge she had proofing in the big gla.s.s bowl. Never guessing Sarge would lift the ban, she had created the starter at home, a.s.suming she'd have to learn anything new on her own time in Tia's kitchen. She fed the starter like a pet for three days until it developed a bubbly froth, then brought it to work. She had mixed up the sponge six hours ago. Now it was white and frothy with a sour beery smell.

The bell on the front counter would alert her if someone needed service, but she hoped the lull lasted long enough to make the dough. After measuring out enough sponge for the recipe, she put the remainder back into the cleaned jar, added fresh flour and warm water, and put it in the walk-in to grow the natural yeast for the next batch. To the sponge, she added sugar, salt, and oil, and, using the enormous dough mixer, kneaded in the flour.

It was brainlessly easy, and yet she got such a kick out of it. She wasn't sure her mother had ever made a meal that wasn't microwaveable. Almost always they'd eaten out, almost always finding something wrong so some or all the ticket got comped. Piper shook her head. This simple thing of making bread from flour and water, sugar, salt, and oil was as big a statement of independence as anything she'd done.

No one rang the bell, but as she tipped the mixer bowl to the rising board, she thought she heard the door. She gently patted the soft-as-baby-skin dough and covered it with a crib-sized cloth, giggling at how often she compared her loaves and buns to babies. Maybe all creativity stemmed from a generative urge.

She washed her hands and went out front. No one. She started to turn back to the kitchen when she saw the package on the counter. Puzzled, she lifted it, recognizing Tia's wrapping at once, but not finding anything to explain its appearance.

Piper frowned, noticing a slip of paper that must have fallen to the floor. The hand printing looked typeset and said only, "For Piper." She went to the front and searched the street through the windows. People milled along the sidewalks, though no one she knew. She pulled open the paper. Two pale golden tapers of natural, honey-scented beeswax. She locked the register and hurried next-door. "Tia?"

Tia straightened up from behind one of the displays. "Hey."

"Did you wrap these for someone?"

Tia looked at what she held. "He brought them to you?"

"Someone left them on the counter."

"It was Miles."

"Miles?"

She nodded. "He seemed very pleased with himself."

"Miles bought these for me?"

"I think you have a friend."

"That is so sweet."

"And no fingerprints. He gave you the germ-free candles."

Warmth filled up inside her. "I wonder why he didn't stay and have me open them."

"Guess it was a surprise."

The warmth became a glow. "I didn't know he could think in surprises."

"Underneath his phobia, he seems very intelligent."

"Oh, you should have heard all the scientific explanations he gave me for why the dough rises and how heat and pressure and oxygen and whatnot affect food and cooking and how the body processes energy. He went on and on like a talking teddy bear that swallowed an encyclopedia."

They laughed.

Piper rewrapped the candles. "I'm glad he's not a psychopath."

"He still has issues." Tia forked the mane back from her face. "I'd love to work with him, get to the bottom of it. Although it might require medication I can't prescribe."

"What do you mean, work with him?"

"I mean therapy. I have degrees in counseling and clinical psychology."

"You do?" Piper searched her face. "Then why aren't you doing it?"

"I was just asking myself the same question."

Piper shook her head. "You keep surprising me."

"Not many people know. I had to take the courses online since I was responsible for the store. I still need clinical hours and a license to practice."

"But you could be helping people. More than the Hopeline."

"I see that now. I kept waiting for things to change." Tia turned. "But only I can."

Jonah had called in his entire force except for Officer Sue Donnelly. The conference room where they a.s.sembled smelled of bitter coffee and McCarthy, who'd just come from the gym. They looked curious and a little uneasy. He briefed them. Moser put a hand to his face when he explained about Sam.

Newly said, "They got to him? In the jail?"

"Someone got something to him." He didn't express what they'd all realize at some point, that Sam still made a choice to use. Unless he'd been forcibly shot up before lockdown? He'd talk to Hao, have him look beyond the obvious. Hand or fingerprints where he might have been held. Trauma at the needle site.

"This is our top priority. I want 24/7 surveillance on Tom Caldwell. I want you all through town checking vacant properties, trailers, motel rooms where there have been odor complaints."

"That would be most of the places I've stayed," Newly lightened the mood.

"Especially when you've had burritos." McCarthy flicked his head with a backhand.

"Nah, that was his girlfriend." From Moser, cracking up Beatty, the rookie.

Jonah let them get it out. They had to hate what this meant to their fellow officer. "I'll be calling the sheriff for support. And guys? Everything by the book. I don't want one count inadmissible because we scratched the wrong armpit. Beatty, you shadow Moser. He's been a cop since Moses brought the tablets down from Sinai."

"I wrote the tablets." Moser ran his fingers down his perfect facial hair.

Jonah looked around the table. The worst they'd dealt with were domestic calls. He had a feeling they'd all be growing up.

Twenty-One.

My twin and I were wombmates and then roommates. Some day our bodies will be tombmates.-CLARA TAIPALE She shouldn't leave Lucy, miserable and distressed by her increasingly frequent absences. It broke her heart to see her confusion, but how could she explain? She couldn't do it alone, and now there was someone else who bore others up, who carried the weak without complaint.

"It's him," Lucy rasped. "I know it."

She sighed. "I won't be long."

Lucy didn't believe her.

"I promise." She pressed a hand to Lucy's pale cheek and turned away.

It had been two and a half weeks since she bought the candle, no knowing if she'd ever give the gift. Seeing him at the creek, open once more and sharing his true feelings had been a sign, an invitation to treat him as she would any wounded creature. But a different vehicle sat beside the Bronco in Jonah's driveway. If someone else was there, maybe she should leave.

But she grabbed her package and went to the door, her heart jumping when he hollered, "Come on in," as though he'd been expecting her.

A less robust voice barked and swore. Curious, she moved through the cabin to the back rooms he and Jay must have completed. From a chair beside a single bed, an old man, bent like a shepherd's crook, let loose on the young woman who held her hand just out of reach, urging him to stretch farther than it seemed he wanted to.

Providing a counterforce with a hand to the man's chest, Jonah sent a glance over his shoulder. "Liz?"

"I didn't realize you were busy. I can come back."

"We have, what?" He turned to his companion. "Ten more stretches?"

"Ten more."

The old man growled.

"Just ten more," the woman urged.

Jonah murmured, "There's hot chocolate in the kitchen."

A reminder of the evening he'd opened his heart? Liz smiled. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Again." The woman held out her hand, and the old man stretched.

His ill temper reminded her of the surly old dogs people brought her to put down. They a.s.sumed the animal preferred death, because they didn't want to watch it live in anything less than perfection. Not Jonah. His patience and affection warmed her more than the s.p.a.ce heater in the corner.

When they finished stretching, the woman said, "You did very well, Sergeant Beaker. Opening the upper spine allows the lower lumbar some flexibility, and building strength between the shoulders will relieve more tension." She began to lightly ma.s.sage the muscle group they'd worked, flicking Jonah a glance. "We'll just finish up here."

"All right." He tipped his head, and Liz preceded him out. As they walked away, the woman murmured something Sarge responded to with a laugh. Jonah shook his head. "Nimue wooing Merlin."

"Excuse me?" She turned, confused.

Jonah jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Le Morte d'Arthur "Le Morte d'Arthur. If Sarge doesn't watch out, he'll end up smitten." He searched her face. "Never mind."

"Is he your father?"

Jonah opened his mouth, then closed it. "My dad's dead. Sarge is an old friend."

"Sarge, who owns the bakery?"

"You have a good memory."

"You took him in?"

"He's living here, yeah."

They had reached the kitchen.

"Did you want some cocoa? SoBe? water?"

Why couldn't she think? "Do you need to see the therapist off?"

"Lauren? She's Sarge's nurse. She'll be a while."

Liz noticed three plates next to the Crock-Pot of rich roasting meat, red-skinned potatoes, and onions. Turning, she formed a tentative smile. "I brought you something." She held out the package.

He looked from it to her.

"A thank-you for the pups. Since you've collected Tia's work, I thought ..." Again she lost what she had thought.

He took the package, untied the ribbon, and let the paper fall away. The aspen leaves cascaded in a spiral to the bottom of the candle, just the way they swirled to the ground in an autumn breeze.

"Do you like it?"

"It's great. But, Liz, you took care of Enola-"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I just wanted you to have it. Tia didn't know you liked candles. Hers, I mean. She said she couldn't imagine that you'd want one."

His brow lowered. "You told her?"

"Was it a secret? They look so nice." She looked past the cafe counter to the main room mantel, then turned back, heart rus.h.i.+ng. This was what she'd come for. "She's the one, isn't she? The one you can't get over?"

His face darkened dangerously. "I'm not sure what we're doing here."

"I'm saying I know, Jonah, and it's all right."

"I don't understand."

But he did. "You said we could start something, but it wouldn't be fair because I didn't know about Tia. Now I do. I understand, and I don't care."

He jammed his hand through his hair. "That was ... a bad day. I shouldn't have said any of it."

"Why? You found a better choice? Sarge's nurse, maybe?"