At the same time, a white blur rocketed past the couple, launched itself at the guy standing in the open door wielding the camera, and knocked him down.
“Get this freaking animal off of me!” Kicking and screaming, Camera Guy tried to dislodge the little dog from his leg. “It’s trying to kill me!”
Before Skye could respond, footsteps thundered up the stairs and her mother rushed over to the fallen cameraman. May attempted to haul him to his feet, but her five feet, two inches and 120-pound frame was at a disadvantage against the much bigger man.
“Citizen’s arrest! ” May yelled at him as she struggled, making it clear that her intent was not to rescue him, but to take him into custody. “Citizen’s arrest.”
Close on May’s heels were the officers who had been working the phones.
Anthony, a part-timer, reached them first. His face was beet red and he was stammering. “Uh, Chief, I, uh, we’re, uh . . . This weasel slipped through the gate when I went to help Mrs. Denison with those dang reporters. He must’ve hid somewhere real fast, ’cause he disappeared. We looked everywhere, and were checking in the garage when we heard the ruckus up here.”
Skye stepped around Wally and grabbed Toby. Searching for a place to contain him, she finally gave up and tied his leash to the desk. After admonishing the little dog to stay, she turned and saw Wally pulling May off the downed cameraman.
Once he had separated May from the guy, Wally took the man by the arm and announced to his employees, “Okay, everyone. I’ll handle this. You all can get back to work.”
But Skye’s mother stood firm, with her arms crossed over her chest and a stubborn expression on her face.
“May”—Wally’s voice was cool and unyielding—“I meant you, too.”
At one time Wally and Skye’s mother had been close, but May’s objection to his engagement to her daughter had introduced considerable tension into that relationship. May believed Wally wasn’t young enough to father a sufficient number of grandchildren for her; plus he was divorced, an additional mark against him. He was trying to get an annulment, but there was little he could do about his age.
“I want to press charges against this jerk.” May narrowed eyes that were the same emerald green as her daughter’s. “He broke into the station, pushed me out of the way, and when I fell against a file cabinet, I tore my best uniform pants.”
“Are you all right?” Wally and Skye asked in unison.
“I guess.” May’s words were grudging. “But there’s going to be a bruise.”
“Okay, then. That’s assault, breaking and entering, and trespassing.” Wally thrust the young man into a chair and handcuffed him to the arm. “In these parts we don’t go around shoving older ladies or forcibly entering clearly marked restricted areas.”
“Who’re you calling an old lady?” May’s lower lip pooched out.
May had turned sixty in August and was a tad sensitive about that milestone.
“Mom.” Skye stepped between her mother and her fiance. “He said older, not old.”
Wally ignored May and Skye’s exchange, concentrating on the man sitting stiffly on the visitor’s chair, clutching his camera to his chest with his free hand. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“You’re violating my first amendment rights.” The guy’s expression was defiant.
“How’s that?” Wally’s tone was mild, but his mouth was a hard line.
“By not giving me access to the officers. By everyone hiding behind locked doors. And by refusing to tell what happened.”
He sounded like the kids on the school paper that Skye and Trixie cosponsored. For the first time since he’d appeared, she took a good look at him and realized he was much younger than she’d first thought.
She put her sweater on, then shot a glance at Wally, seeking permission to participate in the interrogation.
When he nodded, she moved in front of the prisoner and asked, “Who do you work for?”
He stiffened but remained silent. When she repeated her question, he dropped his gaze to the floor, scuffed the toe of his beat-up sneaker on the carpet, and mumbled something she didn’t catch.
“What?” She stepped closer. “Lift your head and speak clearly.”
“I’m freelancing.”
Skye and Wally exchanged a relieved look. A picture of them in the
“Son”—Wally leaned a hip against his desk—“I’ll make you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” Suspicion oozed from the young man’s voice.
“We aren’t going to arrest you for trespassing or breaking and entering or assault, and you’re going to apologize to my dispatcher, buy her a new pair of pants, and hand over the memory card from your camera.”
“Can you believe that little peckerhead had the nerve to admit he picked the lock on my office door?” Wally ground out between clenched teeth. “Who does he think he is, Woodward and Bernstein?”
The cameraman had been escorted out of the police station and onto the front sidewalk half an hour ago, but Wally was still enraged. Even though Skye had tried to calm him down, he continued to pace back and forth in front of her, Toby trotting at his heels.
“He’s lucky I didn’t let May take him out to the woodshed and beat the crap out of him.”
Skye opened her mouth to respond, but Wally was on a roll. “Did he really think no one would notice him running around a police station taking pictures?”
“His problem was he didn’t think.” Skye finally managed to get a word in edgewise.
“That’s for damn sure.”
“At least you destroyed the memory card. Everything’s fine.” She lost patience when she saw Wally continue to scowl. The problem was solved and it was time he got over it. Maybe humor would do the trick. “And I’m sure Mom will eventually forgive you for calling her a little old lady.”
“Yeah.” Wally’s lips turned up at the corner in a tiny grin. “Right after she forgives me for not being Catholic.”
“She’ll come around once the annulment goes through.” Skye’s tone was uncertain.
“Actually”—Wally pulled up a chair in front of Skye and took her hands—“that’s what I need to talk to you about. You see—”
He was interrupted by the ringing of his private line. The one to which only Skye and the mayor had the number.
CHAPTER 12
“Where Were You?”
Skye sat frozen, her face expressionless, trying not to give any indication she was upset. But Toby seemed to sense her distress and leaned against her leg, whimpering. She absently petted him while she listened to Wally on the phone.
“No, Dante. There’s still nothing definitive from the medical examiner.” Wally sat on the edge of his desk. “Yes, I’m sure there’s no way it could have been an accident. Steamrollers do not move without someone in the driver’s seat and people do not lie down in their path and allow themselves to be flattened like a pancake.”
He listened as the mayor’s voice blasted from the receiver, then said, “Hell, no. I wasn’t trying to make a joke. I don’t even know what a crepe suzette is.”
Skye could hear her uncle screaming something about bad publicity, but she caught only every other word of his diatribe.
“Believe me, no one around here wants to talk to the media,” Wally interjected when Dante took a breath. “We’re directing all questions to you.”
Skye couldn’t stand it any longer. This waiting was killing her. She got up. “I’m going to get a soda. Do you want one?” Wally shook his head. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
