Read Fried Pickles and the Fuzz for Free Online Page B

look directly at him. She looked over his shoulder, down the street , and at the ground , but refused to make eye contact. “Look, I’m going to be real busy for the next couple days , and I’m not sure how much time I’ll have for chattin’ in the evenin’s.” She took a step backward toward the café. “I’ll send Erma over to the department with your dinner around six. ‘Kay?”
    Without waiting for a response she turned and pushed open the door to the café , leaving him standing on the sidewalk.
    Well, that coulda gone better.
    ****
    Ugh!
    Heather groaned as she watched through the front window at Bronson , who still stood on the sidewalk outside The Pickle. He remained there, staring at the door for a full minute before he turned and walked slowly back toward the crow d s around the animal pens.
    She shouldn’t have been so abrupt with him. Deep down she knew he was only doi ng his job. Bronson was a good sheriff. No, a great she riff. He took his job seriously and still managed to maintain his people skills. Everyone in the county liked him. Well, Mrs. Pearson might be the exception , but she didn’t like anyone or anything. The old bat wasn’t ever happy unless she was causing a stir with one thing or another.
    That aside, all Heather ever heard from the locals was nothing but the highest praise for Bronson and his capability as she riff. He went out of his way to help folks. Of course, H eather didn’t need to listen to the local grapevine to know that about him. She spent nearly every evening with him right here in the café, chatting while he ate.
    She knew about the local scout group he ’ d taken on a campout when their troopmaster got sick. About the groceries he bought out of his own pocket every couple weeks for Mr. Beeson. All the little things he did, even the ones he didn’t talk about. Like the time he watched the C arters ’ s kids when they went to dinner for their anniversary. Those were the kind of things that made him the man she admired. The man she… loved?
    Oh, man. She hadn’t seen that one coming.

 
Thursday
    Â 
    It had been two days since Bronson had locked Gus up in the yard behind the office. Two long days. Each evening his dinner was delivered to the station by Erma , who handed it over with a stern look and nothing more. He ’ d made the mistake on day two of asking her how Heather was getting along with finding Gus a forever home and had been rewarded with a nasty look and a thumb inserted into his slice of apple pie. After that he ’ d kept his mouth shut when she dropped of f his meals. It was safer. No sense in letting innocent food become a victim again. Especially when said food was meant to be his dinner.
    He needed to see her. Wanted to let her know about his progress on getting a place for Gus , but she ’ d been avoiding his calls by having Erma answer the café phone and say she was too busy to talk.
    Enough was enough. It was time for Bronson to take the bull by the proverbial horns. Shoving his hat down onto his head, he walked out the front door of the department and down the street to T he Pickle , carrying his takeout box with him. Since Erma had already dropped off his dinner tonight, that meant the café was slow and Heather would be there alone. With only twenty minutes until closing time, and most of the town sfolk off participating in the scavenger hunt , he stood a pretty good chance of being able to talk to her alone without a bunch of nosey busybodies hanging on every word .
    The café was lit and the front door still unlocked when he arrived, though the dining room was empty. He made his way to his regular spot, opened the plastic carton and began to eat his catfish , which was now only warm , rather than hot the way he preferred.
    Heather ’ s voice drifted through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the front of the restaurant.
    â€œCome