03-Where Love Abides by Irene Hannon

Author:Irene Hannon [hannon, Irene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
Published: 2008-04-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

To her credit, his mother didn’t pepper Dale with queries when he asked if she could watch Jenna for a few hours. Having witnessed Christine’s quick exit, she posed just one question. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” His mouth settled into a grim line. “But I’m going to try and find out.”

“Take your time. Jenna and I will make cookies.”

On days like this, Dale was reminded why he’d moved home. And how much he loved his mother. He managed a small smile and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

“No thanks necessary. You just get busy and do what it takes to help that young woman. I have a feeling she could use a friend.”

Now, two hours later, Dale leaned back in his desk chair and frowned at the computer screen. He’d ditched his suit jacket and loosened his tie as soon as he’d arrived in his office, trying to get comfortable. But the information he’d uncovered hadn’t helped him achieve that goal. In fact, it made him decidedly uncomfortable.

After fifteen years in law enforcement, Dale was convinced that the vast majority of cops were conscientious, trustworthy public servants. But isolated cases of corruption did exist. And based on his research so far, it seemed he’d found one such glaring case in Dunlap, Nebraska.

As Christine had told him, every official document in her record was signed by Sheriff Gary Stratton—despite the fact that Dunlap had two part-time deputies. The odds that all of the alleged violations would be documented by the sheriff were small…unless Christine had been set up, as she claimed.

The personal data on Stratton had taken a little longer to dig up, but it had also revealed some suspicious information. Age forty-four and divorced with no children, the man lived in an expensive home and drove a BMW. Not a lifestyle that could be supported by a small-town sheriff’s salary, unless his public service income was supplemented by family money. In this case, it wasn’t. Stratton had grown up on a small farm in upstate Nebraska, which had been sold to pay inheritance taxes after his father died eight years before.

So where was his money coming from?

One possibility was Jack Barlow. Christine had said the sheriff was on her husband’s payroll. But why would her own husband want to harass his wife? And why would the sheriff go along with it?

His frown deepening, Dale dug into the personal data on Barlow. Age forty-two at his death and president of Barlow Equipment, an agricultural machinery dealer, he’d attended a prestigious college in the East and was active in church and civic organizations. Nothing in the documentation suggested the man was anything less than a leading citizen of the town.

The local newspaper might offer some additional information, Dale reflected, as he keyed into the online archives of the Dunlap Messenger. He typed in the name Jack Barlow, and a flood of headlines popped up in reverse chronological order. Most were innocuous. Barlow speaking at a regional farmers’ meeting, handing over a donation to a local philanthropic organization, attending a charity event.

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