The Family Gathering (Sullivan's Crossing #3)(92)

“Good. Sue me. I need the publicity. And you sure do. People are already looking at you sideways, so if you bring a big fancy lawyer in here to try to do hurt to the people in this town, you’ll get more unpopular real fast.” He got a harsh look on his face. “I don’t want this shit in my town.”

“It wasn’t me,” she said.

“It was. There’s so much evidence it makes me tired. But I don’t feel like putting you through the boring effort of writing a check to make it all go away. I’d just as soon you go away. But in case you’re fool enough to think you can test me on this, bear in mind, we’ll be watching you. Closely. All of us. The Timberlake police, other police, citizens who don’t like that sort of thing, everyone will be watching.”

She got to her feet, her expression serene. “You better make this go away before you’re sued.”

She strode toward the door.

“I’m going to keep track of you,” he said to her back. She stopped suddenly. “But I’ll give you a tip. If you were to leave, I wouldn’t be bothered to track you out of state.” She took two more steps. “You might want to check and see where Officer Tippin put that GPS tracker on your car.”

She stiffened before she could stop herself. She turned around. “He came on to me,” she said angrily.

The chief stood. “No, he didn’t,” he said. “It’s all on the video. Dakota Jones is a decorated war hero. In my town that just fucking trumps lying trust fund babies. You’re done here.”

Neely stormed out of there before she said one more thing. She drove down the main street a little too fast, leaving that shithole town in her dust. She took a slight detour to a rather isolated lookout with some parking. No one was there. She parked and turned off her engine. She got her mirror out of her purse—it was a sterling silver compact mirror. She held it under the wheel wells, front and back bumpers, under the car doors. She groaned in equal parts anger and frustration. Then she eased down on her back and slid under the car with her compact mirror and her phone flashlight, looking for the GPS tracker. While she was under there, she saw the tires of a car pull up behind her car.

Neely wiggled out from under her car and stood face-to-face with Officer Tippin. Officer Tippin, Neely thought, was homely and mannish, so she sneered at her. Tippin was a cow, Neely thought meanly.

“Car trouble, ma’am?” the officer asked.

“No, thank you very much,” she said, brushing off her short satin skirt. “Can you move your car so I can be on my way?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” she said. And she smiled.

Neely thought she’d sue her also. After she traded in this car.

*

Stan sat behind his desk, staring at the computer screen, tired. The door opened and a grinning Officer Tippin stepped in.

“Boss, it was classic. She actually rolled under her car looking for a tracking device.”

Stan grinned but it wasn’t a big grin. “I’d have loved seeing that.”

“You don’t need a tracking device—she’s easy to follow. She’s kind of a ninny.”

“No,” Stan said. “She’s pretty smart. She just has no empathy and very little fear. She’s arrogant and malicious. And she has some tools—looks and brains being primary.” He took a breath. “She’s a psychopath.”





   A dog reflects the family life. Whoever saw

a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a sad dog

in a happy one?

   —ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE





18

TEN DAYS AND COUNTING, Dakota thought. The August heat had become oppressive, unusual for this part of the country. Or maybe it was his mood. He missed Sid. He talked to her every evening, texted her when he could dream up something to say, sent her a picture of his newly repaired Jeep. He tried to stay upbeat and positive. But she’d said she’d be gone a few days, then a week or two. It took her hours to answer his texts and, more often than not, he had to leave a voice mail and she’d call him back late.

He was afraid he was losing her, afraid she wasn’t coming back.

That was tremendously difficult with all that was going on. Sunday dinner with the family had become dark and sad. Sierra and Connie were nursing broken hearts and would be for a long time to come.

On Monday he got a text from Stan asking him to stop by the police department when he had time. He braced himself for more bad news. That seemed to be the trend in his family right now.

“She’s gone, Dakota,” Stan said. “Apparently Neely decided this wasn’t her ideal place, after all.”

“How do you know?”

“We’ve been keeping an eye on her. Not surveillance exactly. But it seemed in everyone’s best interest to at least have her license number and home address. Seems like she skipped out on her lease a few days ago. She registered her new car in Dallas.”

“New car?” Dakota asked dumbly.

Stan just shook his head. “She had some cockamamy idea there was a GPS tracker on her car. Can’t imagine where she got such an idea.”

Dakota smiled in spite of himself. “Remind me not to doubt you again.”

“Why, thank you,” Stan said. “I’m not going to spend a lot of time following her movements. Angry as it makes me at the stuff she was capable of doing, and much as the good people of this town think I’m just on paid vacation, I do have real police work to do. I might have Tippin or Castor see if they can locate her in a few months. Just because.”