That had to be a joke. Black humor? Or maybe not. “They might need a dispatcher. Or some kind of desk job?” He couldn’t picture Charlie in one, but better than sitting at home, right?
Charlie shuddered. “Paperwork forever? No, thank you. I’ll look around. There’s got to be a job that needs brilliance, computer skills, a stellar personality, the curiosity of a cat, and the grace of a three-legged, drunken giraffe.”
That was definitely black humor. “You left out the other good stuff.” He wanted to say warm heart and sense of honor and how Charlie took care of people, but that was too mushy. “Although I always did think you were like a cat.”
Charlie was distracted from his reply by the sight of a burned hulk of a building off across a field. The charred, broken frame was bookended by scorched trees. “That doesn’t look good.”
“I wonder if that’s the organic farm the old guy mentioned.” Nick slowed down to check the sign on the driveway. “Yeah. What a mess.” He turned in at the gate without thinking, heading down the drive.
“What are we doing?” Charlie asked.
“Just taking a look.”
“You hate looky-loos.”
“I’m trying to figure it out.” He pulled up in a gravel parking area. The burned-out building was to the left. Three intact greenhouses ranged alongside, and a house and several outbuildings lay to the right.
A man came out of the nearest building and strode toward them. Nick spotted the way he was holding a rake at the ready, and rolled down his window. “Hi, I wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“We don’t sell to the public. Get on your way.” The man gestured toward the drive.
“I’m not buying—”
“No salespeople either. Read the sign. Now, git!”
Nick thought about a different approach, but the man’s glowering face was clearly not in the mood to listen. “Sure. Have a nice day.” He put the car in gear and swung back toward the road. The man leaned on his rake and watched them go.
“Not very friendly,” Charlie commented.
“Nope. Could be he’s mad about the damage. Probably cost a shit-ton of money, even if they’re insured. Could also be he’s hiding something.”
“Like insurance fraud.” Charlie’s ideas were following along with his. “Or the vandalism could be a protection racket and he’s being threatened, which might make him suspicious of strangers.”
“You’d think some victim would tell the sheriff if it was extortion.”
“If they trusted her to take care of it. You heard— old Frank said people are losing faith, and they had years with a corrupt sheriff.”
“Or maybe she’s sitting on the information.” He glanced in the rearview at the burned hulk. “That could’ve killed someone.”
A horn-tap made Nick focus on his driving. A marked sheriff’s car had turned in the gate ahead of them. The drive was narrow enough he had to pull to the side to let it by. The marked car slowed to a crawl, the officer eyeing them from behind his shades as he passed, radio in hand.
Nick sighed, pulled up to the road, and hit his turn signal. Dammit, I want to be the one digging into this case, helping keep people safe. Although as the new hire, he’d probably be writing tickets his first few months, till they saw what he could do. He glanced in the mirror again, seeing the cop car stop in front of the greenhouses. I could do that. He might be able to talk up his undercover background—
“Jesus, you’re worse than a straight guy lusting after Miss America.”
“What the hell?”
Charlie waved. “Just drive. And if you have to wait a month to apply, you really should go Find Ariana. Get out of here for a bit before you drive yourself and everyone else up the wall.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He hadn’t even told Brian his plan yet. He was hiding his impatience just fine.
“Take me home, James. With luck, Helen and Lori are done talking about women-parts surgery and starting to think about lunch. And seriously—” Charlie put a hand on Nick’s arm. “—you’ve spent half your life looking for Ariana. If Brian can do it safely, don’t put this off just ’cause you’re scared of what you might find.”
He meant to growl about Charlie being Mr. Stick-Your-Nose-In-Everything, but this was the guy who’d sat up night after night, helping him dig through California property records and divorce proceedings, and the touch on his arm was gentle. “Okay. If I think Brian can do a Find without hurting himself, I might ask. Maybe.”
“Good.”
Enough about me. He said, “Have you called your mom recently? Told her about the baby?” Okay, that wasn’t the kindest diversion, but if Charlie could bring up Ariana, then Nick could play the mom card.
“Are you kidding? I figure one day, about three years from now if I’m lucky, I’ll say something about picking up the kid from daycare and Mom will say, ‘What kid?’ and I’ll say, ‘My roommate’s,’ and it won’t be a big deal. The word ‘baby’ makes women go crazy. Even Lori gets this mushy look on her face.”
“Lori? Mushy?”
“Hah. Well, right before she gets this fierce look. She’s a tough broad.”
“Are you getting soft on her?” Nick wouldn’t mind if Charlie met someone he could fall for, but he deserved better than Lori.
Charlie gave his crooked shrug. “Not really. I like her more than I used to. She’s self-centered, but she definitely cares about the baby. We both know the kid could do a lot worse for a mom.”
“The Kerrs sure did.” At least this baby would have someone other than Damon for a role model. It was some kind of miracle that Brian had come out of that childhood with his sweetness intact.
“I figured. Lori doesn’t say much about their mom, but it’s easy to read between the lines.”
“You are soft on her. You liiiiike her.”
“I do like my guys skinny and my women curvy, and she sure is curvy right now.” Charlie paused, then laughed. “The look on your face. No, I’m not going to date Lori. Okay?”
“Good.” Ariana should have someone like Charlie. Lori doesn’t deserve him. He pushed the idea away firmly. If Brian Found Ariana, and if she was single, he still wasn’t going to do something as pushy as try to set her up with his best friend. Anyway, what if she didn’t grow up any better than Lori? Or she could be married, or a lesbian, or in a brilliant career with no interest in dating, or… not. He couldn’t help running through all the possibilities. What if she still needs help, and I’m stalling? Dammit, I should man up and ask Brian if he feels up to one more Find.
Chapter 8
Brian had to put his feet down and lean on the handlebars of his bicycle to catch his breath, halfway home from the farm. One of the best things about the new house, besides no neighbors, was that it was close enough to bike to Yasmin’s. He had the fake driver’s license in his pocket, but he wasn’t about to use it— not with Nick’s car and having never driven anything bigger than a lawn tractor. Nick said he was always happy to give him a ride, but Nick had better things to do than be his chauffeur.