He thought about leaving the conversation at that. Maybe Roselita needed to work it out for herself, but as usual, Dane couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Are you married, Roselita?”
It took a moment for her to answer, and she never looked at Dane, but eventually she did say softly, “Engaged.”
“Do you and your fiancé have any kids?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re trying?”
Rose looked straight ahead at nothing. “She’s pregnant. We’re due in June.”
It took a minute for Dane to process Roselita’s response. “Oh,” he said, failing miserably to mask his surprise. Roselita hardened up a bit and looked at him. “Is that okay with you, Kirby? Gay isn’t contagious, you know.”
Dane could feel himself blush and felt ashamed for being taken off guard. “What? No. I mean, yes.” Dane stumbled. “It’s fine. I don’t care. Why would I?” Dane’s inability to catch the softball of information introduced levity to the situation.
Roselita shook her head. “Right,” she said. “Why would you?” Agent Velasquez honestly wasn’t worried if Dane cared or not. She was used to the backpedaling whenever her sexual preference came up, but at least Dane’s reaction didn’t come from a place of judgment. He just obviously didn’t know any better. It was kind of cute. She looked back down and kept talking. “We’re having a girl,” she said, a little softer now that her walls were crumbling to expose the human inside. “We’re going to call her June, too. We thought it would be sweet, you know?” She turned to Dane with a look that almost asked for approval. “A girl named June born in June.”
“Yeah,” Dane said. “That’s cool.”
“We’ve talked about trying again right after she’s born. We’re hoping for a boy so we can name him Johnny. You know, like Johnny and June.”
“Best love story ever, right there.”
Roselita let out a small laugh. Somebody finally got it without her having to explain it. Dane reached over and put a hand on Roselita’s shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, partner. I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.”
* * *
Before Dane opened the door, he popped the glove box and took out the pack of cigarettes. “You mind if I take these?”
“I thought you didn’t smoke. Eight years quit, remember?”
“I don’t.”
Roselita shrugged and wiped a finger under each eye in the rearview mirror. “Whatever. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” Dane tucked them into the pocket of his T-shirt and slid out of the car. They both walked up the front steps of the sheriff’s office. Roselita let Dane lead the way. He pushed open the front door and stepped in. Nothing much had changed inside the small lobby. The block walls were still painted white with long stripes of blue and gray that led to the county emblem mounted between two office doors. A squat mahogany reception desk was still in the same place behind the high-rise counter, but the ten-year-old PC and printer that used to sit on top of it had been replaced with all-new equipment.
“Damn, Velasquez, look at that,” Dane said. “I tried to get the county to upgrade the computers in here for years.” He reached around and unlatched the hideaway door cut into the counter and held it open for Roselita. Dane ran his hand along the dispatcher’s desk, admiring the sleek black PC and updated radio system. Other than the large desk, a few filing cabinets, and a portable CD player on a folding card table, there was nothing else in the main area. The administrative office of the fire department now had its own location up Main Street, so the desk he used to use during his time here had been removed, leaving nothing in the far corner but an empty space and a coaxial cable curling out of a wall plate next to the door that said Sheriff Darby Ellis. Dane looked around at the rest of the building he’d reported to for work almost every day for twelve years and felt a rush of nostalgia.
“Is it usually this empty around here?” Roselita asked. “Any jackass off the street can walk in here.”
“I suppose they can, since we just did.”
“Funny. You good here, Kirby? You look a little out of it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. It’s just strange to be back. I haven’t been in here since I packed up my desk and moved to Fannin. It’s a little overwhelming.”
“I can understand why you’d miss it.” Roselita picked up a Waylon Jennings CD from a stack on the card table, and then set it back down. “This place is a fucking palace.”
“Have you seen my office at the Bureau, Rose? Believe me. This is a palace.”
“Well, seriously. Where the hell is everyone? Is there a potluck somewhere? Or is the sheriff the mayor, too, and he’s in the back changing his hat?”
Dane smiled. “Glad you’re back to your normal self, Velasquez. I was worried about you for a minute there.” Dane rapped his knuckles on the sheriff’s door.
“Come on in. It’s open.”
Dane turned the knob and walked into the office. Now this room was different. Sheriff Burroughs had practically lived in here, and back then it was always a wreck. Boxes and boxes of case files, folders, and stacks of newspapers had been piled in every corner, and a sleeper sofa that stayed open and messy took up more space in the room than his desk. Ellis had definitely made the place his own. The office was now wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with pristine volumes of state penal code and bound copies of McFalls County SOP manuals. A nice leather sofa had replaced the ratty old sleeper.
Ellis sat at his desk in full uniform—all starched and crisp. He wore the wide-brimmed sheriff’s hat that Dane had never seen him without, and he pushed it back out of his face when Dane and Roselita entered the room. His stormy eyes were bright blue and his smile was genuine.
“I like what you’ve done with the place, Darby.” Dane picked up a framed photo from one of the bookcases—a picture of Darby and his girlfriend Cricket, pinning his badge on him at his induction ceremony. He faced the photo at Ellis. “How in holy hell did you manage to convince that woman to go out with you? She must’ve turned everyone else in the county down.”
“I ask myself that question every day, Dane. I think it has something to do with the uniform. She’s a sucker for a man in uniform.” The sheriff stood and stuck his hand out for Roselita. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Darby Ellis.”
Roselita shook his hand. “Special Agent Roselita Velasquez,” she said, and held the sheriff’s grip. “So you’re the guy that held a gun on Halford Burroughs and all his men in order to save your boss up on Bull Mountain a few years ago.”
Ellis smiled and looked a little perplexed.
Roselita filled in the blanks for him. “I was part of the federal team that seized the mountain after Big Hal was taken off the board. While I was up there, I heard the Darby Ellis story maybe fifty times—those folks were mighty impressed.”
Darby’s fair-skinned cheeks reddened immediately. He let out a light, embarrassed chuckle. “All I did was hold a shaking gun. It was my boss, Clayton, who got us out of there alive.”
“That’s not the way I heard it.”