Patricia Potter

The Soldier's Promise


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place?”

      “You’ve heard?”

      “Marilyn called me, too. I don’t take her too seriously.” His face hardened. “Also had a burglary call this morning. That’s why I came in.”

      “Where?”

      “Maude’s. Someone broke into her diner last night. Took the late-night cash. About three hundred dollars or so, she said.”

      Eve groaned. If she hadn’t stopped at the Hannity place, she would have heard the news sooner. The amount wasn’t much to a lot of people, but it was to Maude. And it was the first burglary in months. There had been vandalism in some of the cabins around the lake, but nothing more than that. Not in the past year.

      “Could be teenagers,” Tom said, “but most of the locals are good kids.”

      She suddenly knew who would be blamed. “Any suspects?”

      He shrugged. “Not yet, but rumors are circulating, probably helped by Sam. He wants to talk to the new guy. I said no. I wanted to talk to you first.”

      “His name is Joshua Manning, and I talked to him this morning. He didn’t say much, except he inherited the cabin from David Hannity, and that David had been in the army. I had the impression he’s ex-military, too, although he didn’t say so. He’s fixing up the place. I can’t see him breaking into a restaurant for a few hundred dollars.”

      “You have good instincts, Eve, but if you want, I’ll quietly check him out.”

      Eve hesitated. She was reluctant to invade the man’s privacy, and if it wasn’t for the burglary, she would have said no. But she knew how rumors spread in town. Too many would put together the arrival of an unfriendly and admittedly scruffy-looking resident with the first major crime of the year. Better to quash them fast.

      “You said you thought he was former military. Why?” Tom was a Vietnam veteran, and she knew he had a soft spot for other present and former servicemen.

      She shrugged. Casually, she hoped. “He’s not very talkative. In fact, he avoided saying much of anything about himself. Said it was none of my business, but everything points to it.”

      Tom looked quizzical. “He said that to you, and you didn’t bash him?”

      “Well, he was right. It really wasn’t my business, and bashing wouldn’t be very becoming of a mayor, would it?” She decided to change the subject. “But he does have a pronounced limp and a fairly recent scar on his face. It follows that he served with David.”

      “Or he’s a relative,” Tom said. “Didn’t I tell you not to take things for granted?”

      Something else she had learned as mayor. She nodded. “That could be.” She winced at the memory of how Joshua Manning had controlled the conversation and how completely inept she’d felt. She hated that.

      Not to mention that she still felt all tingly inside when she thought about him. That was unacceptable.

      “Want me to pay a visit?”

      “I think he’s had enough of visits. Why don’t you just check with the attorney who handled the probate? You know everyone in this county. And run a quick background check. That should satisfy Sam.” She didn’t like the idea of having to satisfy Sam, but she knew him well enough to realize he might go snooping on his own. Especially if Tom wasn’t around to control him.

      Tom nodded. “I’ll do that.”

      “I don’t want you to do too much.”

      “Just a few phone calls. I swear.”

      “If you feel...”

      “I’ll call the doc,” he replied.

      She hesitated, worried about burdening him more, then said, “And while you’re at it, could you find out what happened to Dave Hannity? Russ used to run with him, and I would like to know. His disappearance was one of the town’s big mysteries after his uncle drowned.”

      “Will do. I’m kinda interested myself.”

      “Maggie’s not going to be happy about you sticking around here,” Eve said, stating the obvious.

      “I’ll take it easy. I’ll also put out the word to some of my friends across the state that we’re looking for a police chief. Maybe someone who wants a second career in a nice quiet town will turn up. Having a good mayor is another benefit.”

      “I’ll miss you around here,” Eve said, hugging him.

      “I’ll be around. I don’t plan to kick the bucket yet. I sent Sam out to Maude’s. Maybe he can find something. At least it will keep him busy and out of Manning’s way.” He didn’t sound hopeful as he rose slowly from the chair and walked out without his usual bounce.

      She closed her eyes for a moment. She wasn’t sure she should have encouraged him to make a few calls or delay his retirement even for a short time. But Tom was like an old warhorse, and she couldn’t help but think he would live longer if he had a purpose.

      She looked at the pile of papers on her desk. She had to work on the budget for the next fiscal year. Too little money. Too many needs. And in the current economy, a tax increase was out of the question. Her people were all struggling. A little juggling here, a small cut there. She just wished that Joshua Manning’s face didn’t keep intruding on the pages.

      * * *

      AFTER THE MAYOR left, Josh refreshed his coffee and fixed a bowl of cereal for both Amos and himself.

      He had an appointment in an hour with the only veterinarian in the area. She’d already been contacted by the Lackland AFB veterinarian and had been faxed Amos’s records, but Josh wanted to see her, take her measure. Hopefully, she might have some suggestions to help Amos.

      He took a shower to cool the heat that still bedeviled him after his encounter with the mayor. A cold one. Then a hot one. After some repairs, the hot water heater was one of the few things that actually worked in the cabin. Then he dressed in a clean pair of jeans and soft cotton shirt.

      He thought about shaving, then decided against it. He coaxed Amos out to his Jeep, but once in the passenger side the dog hopped back out and huddled next to the door. His entire body trembled, and Josh ached looking at him.

      “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try to talk her into coming out here.” He opened the front door and Amos headed for the bedroom and safety under the bed.

      It was just as well. He had other errands to run. He needed paint for the walls and boards for the porch, as well as nails, screws and more large trash bags.

      His first stop was to the vet. When he walked in, a bell jingled and a feminine voice from the back told him to take a seat.

      He was too restless to sit. He walked around the office and peered at the bulletin board. Horses for sale. A lost dog. Puppies up for adoption. Advertisements for tick and flea medicine. After several minutes, an elderly woman holding an equally elderly poodle came out of the back.

      He opened the door for her, got a “thank you, young man” for his effort.

      “Hi,” said a voice behind him. He turned around and faced an attractive woman in jeans and a white coat. “I’m Stephanie Phillips. Just call me Stephanie. You must be Mr. Manning.” She looked around. “Where’s Amos?”

      “He objected,” Josh said. “He started shaking, and I...wondered whether you could come out to the cabin.” He hesitated, then added, “He was a basket case when I picked him up at Lackland and during the drive here. The only place he seems to feel even a little safe is the cabin. I understand the vets at the dog training center at Lackland sent you his records.”

      “They did. Extreme anxiety,” she said. “Physically healthy, but Amos wouldn’t respond to any trainers. Practically goes over the fence when there’s lightning. Rest of the time huddles in the safest place he can find.”