Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1

Read Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 for Free Online Page B

Book: Read Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 for Free Online
Authors: Shawn Underhill, Nick Adams
place.
    “You’re so weird, Evan,” she muttered.
    I said, “The day he fesses up and apologizes, I’ll let it go. Till then, no way. He murdered Snowball.”
    Amy rolled her eyes as she handed me my receipt. I smiled at her.
    “Please don’t start a fight when you go out.”
    “Because you asked nicely, I’ll try not to.”
    “So is the rumor true? Some guy came in a while ago saying you stopped a kidnapping. It’s spreading all over town.”
    “Wonderful.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “Is it true?”
    “Yeah. Some guy grabbed a kid and tried to make off with him. Frank caught him and took him down. Dad stopped the driver, and I cleaned up a little. That’s about it.”
    “Crazy,” she said. “I mean, after what happened last summer.”
    I looked over at the bulletin board in the far corner beyond the coffee maker. Lucy’s missing flyer had been there almost a year. Now that space was occupied by a picture of a used wood splitter for sale.
    I looked back at Amy. Asked her where the flyer was.
    “That’s been gone for a few months.”
    “Why?”
    “I guess it was depressing people.”
    “So the policy is, if someone else’s reality is making us uncomfortable, just get rid of their picture?”
    “It’s not my store, Evan. Wasn’t my call.”
    I started for the door.
    “Wait,” Amy said. She hurried over to the sandwich cooler and took out a single hotdog with a paper towel. Hurried back to me and said, “Give this to Frank.”
    “Don’t I get one?”
    “Not for free. You have money. Frank doesn’t.”
    I smiled politely. Thanked her and went out. Passed Tommy and Marge without a word. They were discussing town business. Which concerned Tommy because he worked for his father, who had been the town road agent for about three decades.
    Frank wedged himself between the van’s front seats as I slid in. I handed him the hotdog and then tossed the towel into a little trash container on the passenger side floor. The hotdog was a fleeting memory before I could turn the key in the ignition.
    “Did you even taste it?” I asked.
    Frank offered no excuses. Just licked his chops and withdrew to his personal space.
     

 
     
    8
     
     
    From the store I turned left through the four-way intersection. Went about a hundred yards and swung a right into the post office. Went into the lobby and checked the bulletin board. There were posts pertaining to town business and federal mail laws. Flyers for a few wanted fugitives and local flyers for a few missing cats. But Lucy’s flyer was nowhere to be found.
    From the post office I turned left. Went straight through the four-way and drove to Uncle Danny’s house. He lives a few miles from the center of town, off a little side road called Center Road.
    Almost ten years back Uncle Danny retired from the state troopers in an attempt to save his marriage with Aunt Shelly, my dad’s little sister. He was getting older, the work was too consuming, and she resented him for his devotion. So he retired and easily acquired the position of Saulsbury’s part-time police chief. With the spare time he tried to focus his energy on making Aunt Shelly happy.
    To no avail.
    Within a year she moved out and rented a small place in the next town over. Uncle Danny didn’t like it, but there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. So from then on he put all of his effort into building cabinets and rustic-looking furniture and wagons for lawn decorations. Woodworking had been a hobby as a young man and he’d always wanted to give it a try for pay. So he gave it his all. And that plan worked fine.
    I parked in the shade of the pine trees bordering his woodshop. Got out and found him inside, as usual. He was sanding a rocking chair as I entered, still wearing his uniform. Considering the stress the man has been through in his adult life, he doesn’t look his age. Especially not in his uniform. At a glance he looks like a fit fifty-year-old, though in fact he’s sixty-two.
    Frank

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