70
HARD ROW
the ordinary that might give a clue to whoever did the
dumping. Mel, you and your team take it north and
the rest of you go south. Richards says it looks like that
hand’s been out there a while, so take some rods and
check anything that looks like a log.”
“Not much of a creek, as I remember,” said Sheriff
Bo Poole when the room was clear. “Just a little off-
shoot of Black Creek.”
“Best I recall, it pretty much dries up every August,”
Dwight agreed, “but we’ve had a right wet winter and
I’ve heard it can pool up in places.”
Bo nodded. “Beaver dams.”
He was a small trim man, but he carried his authority
like a six-footer. “I used to run a trapline through there
when I was a boy. Muskrats and beavers, even the oc-
casional mink.”
He went over to the map and looked at it so intently
that Dwight was sure his boss was walking the creek
again in his mind.
While Dwight called Detective Mayleen Richards to
tell her reinforcements were on the way and how she
should deploy them, he watched as Bo put his finger on
the creek and traced it a little further west.
“Here’s where it flows out of Black Creek. Used to
be good trapping along in here, too.” He looked up at
Dwight. “You fixing to head out there?”
Dwight nodded.
“Let me get my hat. Maybe I’ll ride along with
you.”
71
MARGARET MARON
After so many gray days, the blue sky was washed clean
of all clouds. Even the sunlight seemed extra bright,
and they rode out of Dobbs in companionable silence,
enjoying the novelty of a clear windshield and no wipers
swishing back and forth.
“Everything’s going good then?” Bo asked.
“Would be better if somebody’d come forward and
tell us who’s missing.”
“No, I meant at home. You and Deborah and your
boy.”
“He’s handling it better than I would. Bedtimes can
be a little rough. That seems to be when he misses Jonna
the most.”
“How’s Deborah handling it?”
“Cal and me, we’re real lucky, Bo.”
“She got any long-range plans for you?”
“What do you mean?”
