Read Online Home of the Brave (Raine Stockton Dog Mysteries Book 9) by Donna Ball - Free Book Online

shouldn’t smoke this close to an oxygen tank.”
    Jessie cackled and fumbled in his shirt pocket for another cigarette.  “You sound just like my doctor, son.  I’ll tell you what I told him.  They’re going to have to pry my last cigarette out of my cold dead fingers, and that’s a fact.”
    Buck watched as he stuffed another cigarette between his lips and patted his pockets for the lighter.  Buck did not feel it was his place to point out that the lighter was on the magazine-littered table beside Jessie’s chair, right where he’d left it.  He said instead, “There might be some other fellows by to ask you questions, from the state police. “
    Jessie waved him off, still searching for the lighter.  “I’ll tell ’em to talk to you.”
    Buck started down the steps.  “You take care now.” 
    “Say, Deputy.”
    Buck turned.  Most of the locals still couldn’t remember that he was no longer a deputy, and he was used to it by now.
    “Didn’t I hear you was running for sheriff?”
    “That’s right.”
    Jessie finally found the lighter on the table and picked it up.  He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply.  “Well, you help me get my money out of that car, and you’ve got my vote.”
    Buck said, “I appreciate that.”  And he even managed a smile before he turned to go back to his car.
    Once there, he used his cell phone to call the office.  It was the quickest way.  “Say, Annabelle, do me a favor real quick.  Find out when the AA meetings are held in town.”
    There was a silence broken only by the clack of computer keys as he started the engine and put the car in gear, beginning the three-point turn that would take him out of the driveway.  She came back with, “Every other Thursday, in the basement of the Baptist church.”
    Buck completed the turn, his expression thoughtful as he glanced back at Jessie on the porch.  Jessie lifted his hand to him.  Buck returned the wave.  “Yeah,” he said.  “That’s what I thought.”
    He drove down the drive and made the turn onto the highway, wondering why Jessie had lied.  Or, more likely, why his son had.

     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    “P robably just some hunter.”  Willie Banks spat a stream of tobacco out the window of the pickup as we bounced down the rutted trail toward the lake.  “Or some damn fool tourist, out hiking and got lost.  Holiday weekend, they come out of the woodwork.”  He knew as well as I did that it wasn’t even close to hunting season, and possibly to keep me from pointing that out, he said, “You hear Jeb Wilson’s leading the parade this year?”
    I said that I had, and grabbed for the door frame as the truck hit another hole.
    Margie, with her typical no-nonsense efficiency, had called Willie immediately and demanded he check out Melanie’s report.  The one thing that simply could not be compromised was the safety of the children, and no one—with or without a gun—had any business on this property without authorization while camp was in session.  Melanie and I of course went with him, and Cisco road shotgun, tongue lolling as he hung his head out the window, drinking in the view.  Pepper had stayed behind with Mischief and Magic, who were romping in the fenced baseball diamond—now known as the Puppy Games arena—under the supervision of Counselor Bill.
    I asked, “How long has it been since you had a group here?”
    “You all’re the first one in two years,” he admitted.  “Recession hit, I reckon folks don’t send their kids to camp like they used to.  But I keep the place up, yes sir.  That’s what they pay me to do and that’s by-George what I do.”
    “It looks nice,” I assured him.  “What I got to see of it.”
    “Plumbing works, kitchen’s clean, roofs don’t leak.  That lady there, that Ms. Margie, she said make sure there’s no holes in the fences, so that’s what I done.”
    “Good.  We have to be careful with the dogs.”
    Melanie pointed as