Robin Hardy Online

Book 4 of the Sammy Series

From the back cover:
When the going gets tough, the tough . . . go fishing. The daily grind of working for a living starts to wear on Dallas cop Sammy Kidman, so he and wife Marni accept her parents' invitation to spend a week fishing with them and their pastor on Lake Texoma. But when a runaway hiding in their cabin draws the ire of the county sheriff, Sammy resorts to posing as a Hollywood documentary producer come to film the residents of Bastion, Oklahoma.

Just when he thinks everything is under control, a member of his party falls seriously ill and he takes up a bedside vigil in the local hospital. But the sheriff's bent on petty revenge, so Sammy's back in the fray.

CHAPTER 1

Pastor Joseph L. Brodie drove down the broad suburban north Dallas street and pulled up in the circular driveway of a spacious two-story brick house. This was the home of two of his most faithful members, Clayton and Pam Taylor. Emerging from his car, the pastor momentarily regarded the lime-green, 1966 Mustang parked in the drive. He paused at the realization that the Taylors were probably entertaining company. This was a spontaneous visit, and he did not wish to intrude, but his schedule was such that if he did not catch them now, it would be too late for what he wanted to ask them. So Dr. Brodie went on up the walk and rang the doorbell, admiring the marigolds crowding the front flowerbeds. Pam had always been good at growing things.

 When the door opened Pastor Brodie turned to regard a strange man leaning on the doorframe--a very good-looking man, but for his shaggy black hair which cried out for a trim. His vivid blue eyes locked on the pastor in a languid, intimidating stare. Dr. Brodie was so startled by that, and by the holstered gun the man wore over his sleeveless gray t-shirt, that it was a moment before he found a voice to introduce himself. The man waited silently.

 "Ah--excuse me. I'm Joe Brodie, pastor of Suburban Heights Church. I was looking for Clayton or Pam Taylor," he finally said. Six feet tall and slender at forty-five, Dr. Brodie could be as amiable or authoritative as the situation required.

 "You got an ID?" the man at the door asked.

 Raising a brow, Dr. Brodie pulled out his wallet and offered his driver's license and hospital chaplain's card. The blue-eyed stranger straightened off the doorframe to seriously study the cards a moment, then handed them back. "Pam and Marni went shopping. Clayton's here, but he's asleep," the man explained.

 "I see. And you are--?" Dr. Brodie asked, extending his right hand as his left returned the wallet to his pocket.

 "Sammy Kidman. I'm Marni's husband," he replied, accepting the pastor's hand and shaking it lightly after a moment's hesitation.

 Dr. Brodie smiled. "Of course--I should have known. I've heard quite a bit about your remarkable career. The Taylors are quite proud of their son-in-law." He observed Detective Kidman then relax and glance indecisively over his shoulder. So the pastor followed that up with, "I think Clayton would want to see me, if you don't mind waking him. And I'm anxious to meet this precocious grandbaby I've been hearing so much about."

 That secured his entrance. Sammy took Dr. Brodie back to the gameroom, where Clayton was stretched out snoozing in a lounger. A Saturday-afternoon football game was in progress on the large-screen television set, and a baby stood in a playpen demanding release. Sammy touched his father-in-law on the shoulder, saying, "Clayton, your pastor's here."

 As Clayton was coming to, Sammy reached into the playpen and lifted the baby in muscled arms. "This is Sam, Junior," he announced.

 "Good afternoon," Dr. Brodie said seriously, offering a finger for the baby to grasp. "He looks to be an exact replica of his father. How old is he?"

 "Nine months," Sammy answered, cracking a smile.

 Clayton stretched groggily and dislodged himself from the chair. "Brother Joe--good to see you," he said, offering a hand. Clayton was about Sammy's height but considerably thicker around the middle and thinner on the top.

 Joe shook his hand warmly. "Hello, Clayton. First time I've met your detective son-in-law. He's better than a security system," Joe observed, glancing toward said son-in-law. Sammy was still smiling as he held his son, who raked his fingers across Daddy's face. With a ferocious growl, Sammy snapped up the entire little fist into his mouth. Sam Jr. looked startled, then experimentally pinched the first thing his fingers found. Sammy spat out the baby's hand, laughing, and glanced up at Dr. Brodie.

 The pastor's eyes landed uneasily on the holstered automatic that rested against the baby's hip on Sammy's arm. "Is . . . the safety on?" Dr. Brodie asked.

 "Safety?" Sammy asked in mild shock. "I wouldn't carry around any gun with a manual safety--by the time you remembered to take it off, you'd be dead. This has safety mechanisms built in. The hammer can't rest on the firing pin unless the trigger is pulled through the full range of motion."

 "Of course." Dr. Brodie coughed slightly.

 "What brings you around, Joe?" Clayton asked easily.

 The pastor turned. "Well, Clayton, you and Pam have been members of our church for almost twenty years now, and--" He broke off at the sounds of the back door opening and feminine voices.

 Pam and Marni swept into the gameroom laden with brown shopping bags. They were conspicuously mother and daughter: Pam with her lithe figure and engaging smile; twenty-three-year-old Marni with her shoulder-length brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. Marni merely glanced at the pastor before tossing down her packages and embracing Sammy with a fervent smooch. He reciprocated in kind.

 "Brother Joe! How are you?" Pam greeted him with a friendly hug. "I guess you met our two boys." Sam reached out to Pam from his father's arms and she swept him up for a nuzzling.

 "Yes, I did, and I think your pride is justified. How are you, Marni?" he asked cordially.

 "Fine," she murmured as she turned to open a bag. "Look what I found, Sammy!" She took out a fringed black suede jacket and tried it on for him, then pulled out snakeskin boots decorated with conchos and fringe.

 Sammy paled just a little, but said evenly, "They're real nice, Marni. They look great on you."

 "Don't they? Guess how much I spent!" she demanded with shining eyes.

 Sammy raised his chin, aware of the amused expressions on his in-laws' faces. "Ah, it doesn't matter, Marni. You've always been a careful shopper, and you know how much we have."

 "Guess!" she insisted.

 "Well," he said, repressing his irritation, "The boots--is that genuine snakeskin?" he asked, picking one up.

 "Yes," Marni confirmed.

 "The boots are secondhand, so I'd guess, oh, a hundred dollars. And I assume you got the jacket at the same place, so, I'd say, a hundred fifty for both. You--didn't buy them for her, did you?" he asked Pam in a gently accusatory tone.

 "No," Pam said.

 "I got it all for twenty-five dollars!" Marni laughed. "We found this great little flea market off the freeway and had a blast going through everything!"

 Sammy smiled. "That's great, Marni. But--you know you're free to spend whatever you want," he added with a self-conscious glance at Pastor Joe.

 Marni hugged her husband. "I know, but it's so much more fun this way!"

 Pam turned to Joe, smiling, "Would you like some iced tea?"

 "To be honest, Pam, I can't take the time for a good visit right now, but I had to scoot by to make you an offer. As I was telling Clayton, you folks have been such faithful, generous members that I felt a small gesture of appreciation was in order. I know it's short notice, but--my wife and I are taking next week off to spend at our cabin on Lake Texoma, and we'd like for you to go with us," Joe said.

 "Why, Joe! How kind of you," Pam said, looking at her husband.

 "It's a fully furnished, three-bedroom cabin with a kitchen and a boat launch--everything but a telephone. And let me tell you, it's the sweetest spot for striper and crappie fishing in two states," Joe avowed. Sammy glanced over before he could stop himself.

 Pam noticed his look and looked at Clayton. He stared at her, trying to divine her message, so she darted her eyes toward Sammy. Clayton turned to him to ask, "Sammy, are you a fisherman?"

 Pam covered her eyes in momentary distress and said, "Joe, we appreciate the offer, but we had planned to spend some time with our kids. Sammy's birthday is Tuesday, and he's accumulated some vacation time that he'll lose if he doesn't take--"

 "Well, what better way to celebrate a birthday than striper fishing?" Joe said graciously to Sammy. "Consider it a gift. There's plenty of room in the cabin, and frankly, I'm curious to hear more about your work."

 Sammy and Marni looked at each other dubiously. "What about Sam?" Sammy murmured.

 "Bring him. I'll watch him," Pam offered instantly.

 Marni shook her head. "Mom, he's into everything now. That wouldn't be any vacation for you, having to watch him all the time." After a pause, she considered, "Kerry has been offering to keep him. Since she and Dave are expecting next March, she's got babies on the brain." Sammy had been responsible for introducing his partner Dave Pruett to Kerry, who shortly became Dave's wife.

 Sammy chewed his lip in the transparent struggle between a week of good fishing versus sharing a cabin with his in-laws and their pastor. He was on good terms with the Taylors, and wished to remain so. But--how long had it been since he had stretched out with a rod and reel? But--a week vacationing with a preacher? When Sammy realized that he wouldn't have to shave or put on a tie for a whole week, the matter was decided. "We'll pay toward groceries, and expenses," he murmured.

 "Thank you," Marni added to Joe.

 "Great! It's settled, then. We'll just meet here Monday morning--oh, say about eight--and caravan to the cabin," Joe said with a broad smile. "Looking forward to it, Sammy." He reached forward to shake Sammy's hand, who considered that it might not be such a bad idea after all.

 On his way out Joe paused, spotting the large, handsome family portrait of the Kidmans hanging in the front room. "Beautiful job, Pam," he nodded. She beamed in response, regarding the oil painting with pride. Then Joe remembered something, and turned. "Oh, Marni--did Pam tell you that we saw Damon Bledsoe the other day--our old Minister of Music? He asked about you."

 Marni paled and looked down. Pam and Sammy eyed her. "How nice," she said weakly.

 "I told him you were a very happy wife and mother, and he said he was glad," Joe went on. Marni nodded, managing a smile, and Sammy shrewdly studied Joe.

 Monday morning found Sammy and Marni pulling into the Taylors' drive with sacks of groceries filling the back seat of the Mustang and luggage in the trunk. Sammy beeped the horn in greeting to Clayton, who was loading the trunk of the Taylors' new Taurus. As Clayton waved, Pam came out of the front door with yet another box of necessities. Clayton gestured at the jam-packed trunk in exasperation, but Pam merely set the box down beside him and patted his rear on her way over to the Mustang.

 "Hi, sweetheart." Pam kissed her daughter on the cheek as she got out of the car.

 "I get one," Sammy demanded, coming around from the driver's side. Pam grabbed his hair playfully and planted an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

 "You know, I meant to ask you Saturday how Smoky is getting along with your father," Pam mentioned. She added to Marni, "I'm sorry we couldn't keep her any longer, but your dad's allergy to cat hair hasn't improved since your teen years."

 "She's doing great. Sam loves her. And she's settled in at the Threlkelds' like she owns the place," Sammy grinned. The Threlkelds were a wealthy Dallas family who had been unsuspecting hosts to Sammy and Marni working undercover as chauffeur and maid. Dolly Threlkeld, the matriarch, had found herself so indebted to them for exposing an art scam directed at her that she hired Sammy's father Sam Watterson (not the actor) as her chauffeur.

 "Pam, could there be anything left in the house that you forgot to pack?" Sammy teased with an eye on their trunk.

 "No!" Clayton shouted as Pam pinched Sammy in the ribs. He cowered behind Marni for protection.

 At that moment an SUV pulled into the driveway, and Pastor Joe leaned out of the window to wave. "Hey, sluggards, here is it eight o'clock and you're still not ready? What kind of fishermen are you?" He climbed out of the truck and a woman came around from the other side to greet Pam and Clayton.

 "Sylvie, do you remember 'little' Marni? This is her husband Sammy," Joe said, extending a hand toward them as the other rested at his wife's back. She was a sturdy woman with naturally graying hair and a bright smile. Marni judged from her strong handshake and comfortable old clothes that she was a good companion on a fishing trip.

 When Sammy shook her hand, Sylvie observed, "You're the detective."

 "That's right, ma'am," Sammy said, then slapped his light nylon jacket in remembrance. Mid-September was usually as hot as July, but he could have optimistically expected cooler temperatures at the lake. He took off the jacket to unbuckle the holster strapped around his chest, then shoved both holster and revolver in the glove compartment of the Mustang.

 "Will you--need that, Sammy?" Joe asked doubtfully.

 "I never go anywhere without it," Sammy replied.

 Joe then eyed the beeper that hung on Sammy's shorts. "Look at that! I didn't know anyone carried those anymore," Joe said absently.

 "When the department gives us phones, then I'll carry one, but I ain't paying for one that I'll use primarily for work when I've had the carphone for years," Sammy said in a vehement and practiced speech.

 Joe eyed him. "Guy, you need this vacation."

 "Yeah, I do," Sammy admitted, "and I hope it's a quiet one."

 Joe said, "I pledge to do my part: no meetings, no budgets, no conferences, and no phone on this person, either." He spread his hands over the pockets on his long shorts. "Clayton?"

 "I solemnly swear that we are carrying no concealed electronics," Clayton said, slamming the car trunk. With high hopes for peace and quiet and abundant fishing, they all piled into their cars and the Brodies led the way up I-75 toward Lake Texoma. It took slightly more than an hour to reach the lake; another half-hour of winding their way along two-lane back roads brought them to the Brodies' cabin. The frame house sat by itself in a pine grove within sight of the water. On this late summer morning, the sunlight lay splintered on the gentle waves that lapped at the short stretch of sandy beach.

 Sammy got out of the Mustang, inhaling the scents of pine thatch and fish-laden lake water, and took Marni's hand. "Let's go look at the lake," he invited.

 "Sure, as soon as we get all these groceries put up," she said, turning to the back seat.

 But Sammy insistently pulled her away from the car. "We'll get those in a minute. Come on."

 He dragged her down to the shoreline as the Taylors and Brodies began unloading their cars. Then Sammy paused. "I'm not ordering you around again, am I?" he asked.

 "Yes, but I'm letting you just this once," she smiled.

 Satisfied, Sammy put his arm around her tightly and looked over the lake. There were two other boat ramps within sight of the one near this cabin, but those were the only evidence of neighbors. A quiet breeze rustled the lighter tree boughs, and a muffled plunk accompanied a frog into the water.

 "Yeah, we needed this," Sammy murmured. "With me always at work, and you taking care of Sam, it got to be the only time we were seeing each other was in bed."

 "That's as good a place as any," she said, reaching up to his neck.

 "Ummm, you wicked woman," he murmured, turning up her face for a deep kiss. He pressed her shoulders up against his chest to delve to the limit.

 When he finally drew back Marni was gasping. He laughed, "You getting rusty, baby? Let's go for a refresher course." He locked her fingers in his to lead her to the cabin.

 With a sidelong glance, Marni detoured him to the car and firmly put a sack of groceries in his solid arms. "Here. Lift some weights, first."

 Sammy grinned as he shifted the bag to one arm and took a second sack in the other. "I'd rather do push-ups--" he began, then ducked as she feigned throwing a can at him.

 Still grinning, Sammy edged open the cabin door with his foot and carried the sacks into the kitchen, glancing around. It was a nice cabin, with a gathering room that boasted a large rock fireplace. The weather was too warm for a fire, of course, but even an empty fireplace was a cozy touch.

 As he set the sacks on the kitchen counter, Pam leaned over to look in one. "Steaks! Sammy, how nice. You shouldn't have," she protested as she handed the partially frozen t-bones to Sylvie to put in the refrigerator.

 "No problem," Sammy returned. From the kitchen window he glimpsed Clayton and Joe emerging from the boathouse nearby. As Marni came up with two smaller sacks of groceries, Sammy asked Sylvie, "Um, which one is our bedroom? So we can unpack."

 Nodding toward a door off the gathering room, Sylvie said, "First door on your right there."

 "Thanks," Sammy said as he took Marni's hand. It never crossed his mind at that time to go get their luggage from the trunk of the car.

 With Marni in tow, Sammy opened the door of the first bedroom and glanced from the closet and dresser to the double bed. It was covered with a mussed windowpane quilt. "Somebody's been sleeping in my bed," he growled in a papa bear voice. Marni pretended to pull away, but he held her, growling, "Hey, Goldilocks, don't run off." She covered her mouth as somebody in the next room laughed.

 Grinning, Sammy shut the door softly behind his wife and whispered, "This is gonna be a great vacation. I can feel it already."

 He tossed Marni gently to the bed and shucked off his hightops, t-shirt and shorts. He hastened her undressing, then pounced on her happily. Marni giggled before he stifled her with his tongue.

 A moment later he stilled and raised up. Opening her eyes, Marni saw the strange expression on his face. "Sammy--?" He covered her mouth.

 He turned his head as if listening, then glanced uneasily around the room. His clothes were on the floor and his revolver out in the glove compartment of the car. Sammy leaned over the edge of the bed, retrieved his shorts from the floor, and pulled them on while lying on his back. Then he cautiously hung his head beside the bed to peer underneath it.

 In a quick series of movements he fell on the floor, reached under the bed and yanked someone out by the ankle. Marni yelped and scrambled under the covers. When she peeked out she saw Sammy sitting on a young man's back, pinning his arms behind him. "Unlawful entry is just the beginning of your problems, pal. You wanna tell me what you think you're doing here?" Sammy snarled.

 "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to--ya'll just showed up before I could get out, and--I'm sorry!" cried the adolescent from the floor.

  Sammy jerked him up and dragged him out to the gathering room. Clayton and Joe had just come in, and Pam and Sylvie were still unloading groceries. As soon as Marni got dressed, she hurried out to the large room where the others stood staring at the boy Sammy tossed onto the couch.

 He was lanky, about sixteen, with greasy hair that hung in his eyes. He was dressed in oversized, logo-laden clothes, which meant that he was either fashion conscious or poor. And he looked down at the floor in misery while six pairs of eyes scrutinized him. Marni handed Sammy his t-shirt; he put it on and opened his mouth to begin an interrogation. But Joe stepped forward to ask, "Are you hungry?"

 The kid looked up as if startled, then burst into tears and nodded. Sammy eyed him skeptically but Sylvie went to the kitchen to throw together a sandwich. This she brought to the boy on a plate, with a soft drink. In spite of his present difficulties, he managed to wolf down the early lunch.

 Joe sat on the couch across from him, amiably leaning forward. Sammy remained standing, arms crossed, slightly behind him. "Are you a runaway?" Joe asked.

 "No sir, not really," the boy replied, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I'm on my way to my dad's in Austin. I'd been staying with my mom in Bastion, but shee, I just can't take it anymore. I just had to get out of there and get to my dad's. But Mom wouldn't let me go, so last night I slipped out and started walking. When it got dark, man, it got really dark and I got turned around, but I found this cabin and figured I'd sleep here until daylight. But then ya'll showed up and shee, I didn't have a chance to do anything but dive under the bed. I didn't mean no harm."

 "What's your name?" Sammy asked.

 "Grady Miller," the boy replied.

 "Does your mother have custody of you?" Sammy asked.

 "Yeah, I guess so," the boy admitted dully.

 "Then we have to take you back to her," Sammy said. He sat to put on his hightops.

 "Aw, gee, please don't," the boy pleaded.

 "Why not?" Joe asked.

 "Oh, man, you don't know what it's like. I've been there for a month now and I just got so sick of it I couldn't hack it anymore, and my mom just didn't understand, and even if she did she couldn't do anything about it but leave, if she would. But I don't think she would," Grady exposited.

 There was a moment of silence as six astute brains attempted to process this information. "What do you mean? Are you being mistreated?" Joe finally asked.

 "Very," Grady said indignantly.

 "By whom?" Joe pressed.

 "Everybody," Grady maintained.

 Sammy stood impatiently. "Look, kid, everybody has difficulties fitting into a new situation and a new school, but you can't just run away. You've got to stick it out and work through the problems."

 "You don't understand," Grady said sullenly. "Nobody does."

 Sammy pulled his car keys from his shorts pocket. "C'mon, pal, I'll give you a lift back to town--Bastion, is it? What's your mother's name?"  

 Grady stood, hanging his head. "You can take me back, but I'll just leave again. Nobody in their right mind would stay there."

 "Well, running away again will get you as far as detention. Come on, kid," Sammy said, reaching out to take his arm.

 "Sammy," Joe said hesitantly, regarding Grady, "this boy doesn't seem--defiant or rebellious. He appears to be taking a rational, deliberate course out of what he perceives to be an intolerable situation."

 Sammy rolled his eyes. Joe quickly added, "What I'm saying is that perhaps his complaint should be investigated before we just drop him back into the same circumstances."

 "I'll notify the authorities on the way," Sammy said shortly.

 "Would they appreciate the extra paperwork?" Joe cracked with a half-smile, and Sammy stiffened. "Is nobody here competent to look into the situation and see what the trouble is?" the pastor added.

 "I came here for a vacation," Sammy grumbled.

 "Ah, not doubting your capability, Sammy, but I wasn't thinking of you. I was thinking we should let Grady stay here while I went and had a talk with his mother," Joe said. Now Sammy looked torn. Marni wondered if Dr. Brodie knew that the surest way to get Sammy to do something was to imply that someone else could do it better.

 Sammy turned and patted Grady down thoroughly. He had nothing on him but about twenty dollars. With a glance around the group, Sammy picked up Marni's purse from the couch and withdrew a pen and pad from it. "What's your mom's name?" he asked Grady, flipping open the pad in his professional manner.

 "Dawn Lippincott," replied Grady, slightly heartened, and volunteered her Bastion address and telephone number, plus the fact that she worked at the Simply Stylish Dress Shop in downtown Bastion.

 Sammy regarded him coolly as he shut the pad, deposited it in his back pocket, and hung the pen on the front of his t-shirt. He pointed at Grady to instruct him, "You will stay right here and do whatever the Brodies or the Taylors tell you to do. Understand?"

 "Yes sir," Grady replied, repressing a hopeful, grateful smile.

 "Now how do I get to Bastion?" Sammy turned to ask Joe.

 "It's only a few miles from here," Joe began, raising his hand as he thought through curving roads and unmarked intersections.

 "I know the way, since we've been camping here before. I'll go with you, Sammy," Marni offered.

 He regarded her, then relaxed. "Yeah. Good. Let's go."

 As Sammy and Marni went out to his Mustang, Grady asked Sylvie with a timid smile, "Could I have another sandwich, please?"

 "Of course." Taking the empty plate to the kitchen, Sylvie said to Pam, "I hope your son-in-law gets the vacation he needs."

 "Somehow, I feel that he's doing just what he needs to do," Pam said.

copyright 2005 Robin Hardy

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