“Well…” Argo hesitated, but Darian could see he was about to give in.

  “I’ll even drive you there and bring you back as soon as you’re ready. While you’re asleep, I’ll take a casual jaunt through Chet’s social media profiles. Maybe he’s still active on some of those dating sites.”

  “Thinking of joining?”

  Darian shrugged and feigned a coy smile. “Oh, you never know. Can’t hurt to see what else is on tap, right? In any case, I promise to print out any names I find. You can take it from there.”

  “Okay, I’ll go along with your plan under two conditions. One, I’m driving. Two, we stop by the river and check on the rescue team. Don’t worry, my inner battery’s got another hour or two of juice left.”

  Darian knew it would be pointless to negotiate further. At least Argo was willing to slow down a little. “Fine. But I’m serious, Argo. When we get back to my house, you’re closing your eyes for a while. Your deputies can monitor the situation until you’ve recharged.”

  “I’ll go and tell the front desk where to find me. Meet you out by the car.”

  Though both of them could tell he desperately needed to sleep, Argo drove to the accident site on autopilot. Though Argo told him to wait, Darian pretended to misunderstand and stood beside the SUV, trying to overhear his conversation with a representative from the rescue team and the deputies he’d posted on-scene. Though he could only decipher snippets, the overall tone of their exchange wasn’t encouraging. At one point, they looked at the sky. Darian guessed that the imminent onset of dusk would soon force them to postpone further efforts in the interest of their own safety. Despite the fading light, he could see where the car had careened into the water, flattening vegetation and even taking out a few small trees on its downward trajectory.

  Sure enough, Argo’s attitude was grim when he returned and got back behind the wheel. “They’ve scoured several miles of the riverbanks and woods on both sides. No sign of Chet or any of his clothes or possessions.”

  “Are they packing it in for the night?” Darian recalled the divers who had come to Birchwood Pond the first time he’d discovered a body and wondered if any of the same guys were involved in the current catastrophe. “If so, you won’t be missing much while you sleep.”

  “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

  When they got to Darian’s place, Argo kicked off his boots and set up his cell phone on the night table. Darian had bought a special stand just for those occasions when Argo stayed over. He always felt a little thrill when Argo used it, as casually as if he lived there all the time.

  “Mind if I stretch out beside you?” Darian asked. “I’ve had a long day, too.”

  “Wish you would.” Argo’s voice sounded grumbly as he moved over to make room.

  “It’s nice having you here,” Darian ventured as he curled into Argo’s side. They stayed on top of the covers. Darian knew if the phone rang, Argo would be up and on his feet like he’d been poked with a live wire.

  For now, though, his breathing audibly slowed with exhaustion. “Yeah. I like being here. This was a good idea.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I do. In fact, I was going to talk to you about something.”

  Darian raised his head. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I wondered if, you know, maybe one of these days…”

  At that point, his voice drifted off. Darian waited, assuming he paused to gather his thoughts—or maybe his courage. But nothing happened.

  When he glanced over again, Argo was deeply asleep.

  Chapter 4

  Argo awoke with a jolt, rolled over, and immediately reached for his phone. Beside him, Darian looked up from the student essays he was grading on a TV tray and set down his crisp new green marker. They didn’t use red at Birchwood anymore. That color had an intimidating effect on the kids, Kim had announced at a recent workshop, and Jeanette encouraged everyone to try her methods and neutralize their ink palette. If Darian were being honest, he couldn’t see much of a difference. The papers contained roughly the same number of errors and awkward phrasing they always did. There would probably be some disappointed groans when he handed these back. At least the next day was Friday, which generally kept everyone’s mood from going too far south about grades. The Chet situation was the wild card. The current tension on campus could quickly pivot either to collective grief or celebration if Birchwood’s errant librarian were found alive.

  “Don’t worry. It didn’t ring.”

  Stress creased Argo’s face. He combed his disheveled hair back with his fingers. “It’s almost seven o’clock. How could you let me sleep so long?”

  “Are you kidding? You’ve got five or six more hours to catch up on, though I have no illusions that will happen anytime soon.”

  In response, Argo grunted and staggered off to splash cold water on his face. When he returned with a towel around his neck, Darian set his work aside and stood up.

  “It’s dinner time, in case you didn’t notice. Hungry?”

  “I am, actually.”

  “No surprise. Those stale little crackers you had this afternoon can’t be very nutritious.”

  Argo feigned outrage. “They’re not stale. I’ll have you know Cutler restocks that machine like clockwork, every two weeks at most.”

  “Probably because you eat them for lunch or dinner six days out of seven. Am I right?”

  “I’m taking the fifth on that.” Argo gave Darian a quick kiss, and Darian tasted minty toothpaste. For months now, Argo had been stocking Darian’s bathroom with his own toothbrush, razors, and other essentials. Doing so made it much easier to enjoy a spontaneous sleepover like they had today. Darian, likewise, kept his own stash of supplies at Argo’s place. Sometimes he wondered if it might be simpler if they just took the plunge and combined households. So far, though, neither he nor Argo had broached the topic in so many words. Maybe that was the wisest course of action. Why ruin a good thing?

  Argo stepped away to check his appearance in Darian’s mirror. “You’re right, though. Those crackers aren’t very filling. I could use some coffee, too.”

  “Coffee sounds wonderful.”

  Argo eyed the stack of essays on the nightstand. “Your students’ papers are putting you to sleep, huh?”

  “They do start to sound the same after a while,” Darian admitted. “They’re not bad, though. I think I’ve managed to teach the kids a thing or two this year.”

  “Never doubted it for a minute. Um…I hate to ask, and it’s fine if you didn’t get around to it, but…”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. I went online while you were asleep and ran a search for Chet’s dating profiles. Nothing there at all. Either he used a false name or those sites are set up so you can’t see the guys’ vital statistics unless you pay to join.”

  “Or he deleted them all when he met the love of his life, Soldier Boy.” Argo punched a button on his phone. “Okay, you did good. Onward and upward. I can follow up with Krell if I need to. I’m going to check in with Cutler. He can run other searches from the station computer. Be right back.”

  He left the room. To occupy himself, Darian straightened up the pile of student papers and counted the number he had left to grade. He’d made good progress, though he still had a few to get through before he left for work the next morning.

  “Cutler says he’s got everything under control,” Argo said when he got back. “Not much else we can do tonight. Too dangerous to send volunteers down the riverbanks while it’s dark, especially since there might not be any need. Signs are pointing toward the car being abandoned. Looks like we can go out for a quick dinner. My treat, to thank you for all the volunteer deputy work you did today and last night.”

  “I accept, though I don’t require payment. It was my pleasure. Not exactly fun, but...”

  “I get it. Policework isn’t uplifting, but it is addictive.”

  “Like when I’m running…a little burst of adrenaline carries me through the next mile, and the one after that. You feel that pull, too, don’t you? That’s why you’re so good at your job.”

  “Me, yes. But you shouldn’t be good at it. You’re a civilian. But I’ll admit you’re getting better.”

  They shared a smile and then Argo sighed. “Dinner is also sort of an apology, because I’ll be going back to work as soon as we eat. Going to start those warrants for Chet’s computer and phone data tonight. If the search team hasn’t found anything by the time the courts open tomorrow, I’m filing first thing. I don’t want to wait until Monday.”

  “I wouldn’t have expected anything less. I’m glad we’re going out, though. If we can’t spend the night together, at least we can grab a couple of hours now.”

  “With any luck, I’ll get this thing sorted out before the weekend. Thanks for understanding.”

  “I do. It’s fine. Really.” No doubt part of the reason Argo was so determined was the promise he’d made to Darian himself, to find out what had happened to his colleague. Argo wasn’t the type to bring that kind of detail up again, but Darian knew he remembered it. “I’m guessing you need a break from greasy diner platters. How about Jake and Patricia’s?”

  “Sounds great.”

  The Woodleys’ upscale restaurant, Into the Wood, seemed busier than usual. Then again, it was prime dinner hour, and people were probably itching to get out of the house after the previous day’s torrential storm. Jake Woodley, the husband of Darian’s colleague Patricia, personally came to the host station to greet them.

  “Great to see both of you! And don’t worry. Place is hopping, but we’ll fit you in. Just give me a minute to scrounge up a table.” He lowered his voice. “Patricia stopped in on her way home from Birchwood. She told me about your librarian’s accident. We looked it up on the internet. Horrific.”

  “It was,” Argo confirmed.

  “Right over the edge into the drink. I’m surprised the whole car wasn’t washed away. Must have wedged on a tree.” Jake’s hopeful expression suggested he was looking for information, probably so he could impress his patrons and staff. Perhaps a desire to gossip, as much as a hankering for Jake’s culinary innovations, contributed to the influx of diners. “Chet’s most likely dead, don’t you think? I can’t imagine anyone surviving that current, not to mention the temperature of the water.”

  “We’re doing all we can,” Argo said noncommittally. “Can’t really comment beyond the fact that we’re working every angle.”

  “Sure, sure. I understand. I knew Chet, of course. He ate here all the time.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Argo became interested, though Darian hardly considered that groundbreaking information. In a community as small as theirs, many citizens were likely regular diners Jake could recognize. Argo seemed on the verge of asking for more detail, but just then a server walked by and Jake excused himself.

  “Let me see about your table. Back in a heartbeat.”

  “That could be useful,” Argo mused aloud. “At least we could find out if Chet was in the habit of dining with anyone in particular.”

  A voice called out from behind them.

  “Darian? Is that you?”

  Darian turned to see Kim Benedict coming through the restaurant door. Beside her stood a guy with glasses, blond hair long enough to cover his ears, and a little soul patch under his lower lip.

  “Kim! Hi!”

  Kim gestured toward the man with her. “This is my husband, Vaughn. And you must be Argo. I work with Darian. Maybe he’s mentioned me? Kim Benedict.”

  “The name definitely rings a bell.” Argo stuck out his hand to each of them in turn. “Argo Sullivan,” he introduced himself.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s actually Sheriff Sullivan, isn’t it? I’ve seen you around town,” Vaughn said with a smirk.

  “Gosh, Vaughan, maybe you should apply to be one of his detectives,” Kim chided. “He’s wearing a uniform, for crying out loud.”

  Vaughan ignored her. “One of your guys pulled me over the other day. Said I was playing my stereo too loud on a public street. Didn’t give me a ticket, though.”

  “Consider yourself lucky,” Argo said, his tone less friendly this time. “We do have a noise ordinance on the books in this town. I don’t write the laws, but my deputies and I do enforce them.”

  “They probably passed it to keep the Birchwood students in line,” Kim suggested. “Young guys like to make their presence known.”

  “No wonder they gave an old geezer like me a break.” Since Vaughan appeared to be in his mid to late forties, Darian suspected he was fishing for a compliment. No one responded.

  Kim scanned the bustling dining room with obvious disappointment. “We couldn’t find anything decent to eat at home, so we came here on the spur of the moment. Looks like it’s going to be a long wait, though. I guess we should have called ahead. Maybe we could go back and raid the pantry after all, Vaughan.”

  “Not necessary,” Argo said. “You’re welcome to join Darian and me. I’m sure Jake can find room for all of us at one table.”

  “Oh, you don’t mind? That would be lovely! I was just telling Darian that I wanted the four of us to get together sometime. Who knew it would happen so quickly?”

  “I’ll just let Jake know about the change of plans,” Argo said, stepping away. Darian watched him cross the room, amazed. In truth, he was a little disappointed, too, since he’d hoped to have Argo to himself for at least part of the evening. On the other hand, he looked forward to showing Argo off to Kim. She already seemed awestruck by his gallant intervention in the seating arrangements.

  “He’s absolutely wonderful, Darian,” she stage-whispered while Vaughan, overhearing every word, ground his teeth. “Smart, handsome, and a gentleman to boot. Just goes to show, all the best ones are gay. Slim pickings left for us ladies!”

  When at last a table emptied and the group settled around it, she continued to focus on Argo.

  “Darian probably told you I’m the new counselor at Birchwood. I just love it there so far—the campus is beautiful, and I feel like I’m really making a difference. Here’s the thing, though. I got into counseling because I want to use my skills to help young people overcome their obstacles and succeed. Not just at Birchwood, but in the community at large.”

  “Saving the world, one screwed up rich kid at a time,” Vaughan muttered from behind his wineglass. Kim had also opted for wine, though Argo and Darian stuck with ice water. She shot her husband a warning glare, but he only snickered.

  “An admirable goal,” Argo said politely. He took his time cutting a stuffed mushroom appetizer into quarters.

  “It is, isn’t it? Well, it’s also my passion. I was hoping you and I could meet sometime, maybe at your office, so we could discuss some programs I’d like to start here in town. I’m in the process of writing up a grant proposal. There are myriad funding options for this kind of stuff, you know, especially for remote areas like this one. People just don’t take the time to research them. I intend to change all that.”

  “What kind of programs?” Darian asked politely, sensing Vaughan gearing up to throw the conversation off track again.

  “All kinds. Not just things that appeal to young people, like pickup basketball games and ice cream socials, but literacy workshops and exposure to the arts. You’d be amazed how kids respond when they think someone is taking them seriously and encouraging them to develop their talents. At my previous school, I supervised a creative writing collective. The students planned to publish a book. It was inspiring to watch.”

  “And did they?” Darian asked with genuine curiosity. “Publish the book, I mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Kim admitted, her enthusiasm fading a bit. “I left before the end of the school year. They seemed determined, so I’d like to think they’ll succeed.”

  “She left to come to Birchwood.” Vaughan finished his wine and plunked the glass down emphatically. “Hope you all appreciate how lucky you were to steal her away.”

  “Okay, enough shop talk for now.” Kim opened her menu. “I need to figure out what I’m going to order or I’ll look pretty foolish when our waiter comes back. We can put our heads together about the kids later, Argo.”

  “Sure thing,” Argo agreed. For the next few minutes, they occupied themselves with choosing and ordering their meals. Though Darian picked a light pasta concoction, he was pleased that Argo ordered something large, meaty, and smothered with cheese and potatoes. He needed something substantial to counteract the junk food he’d been existing on for the last twenty-four hours. Vaughan opted for the same thing, while Kim went for salmon.

  “I’m not much of a meat eater,” she explained after their server had gone.

  “Fish is meat, in a way,” Vaughan said. “Salmon especially. They even have skin.”

  Darian turned quickly to him. “So, Vaughan, what do you do for work?”

  “I’m a musician by trade. And I know everybody with a guitar and a notebook full of angsty lyrics says that, but I’m the real deal. Meaning I actually make money at it.”

  “Impressive,” Argo said.

  “Vaughan has a CD out,” Kim informed them proudly. “It’s retro-style folk rock. He was sort of famous in in the late nineties.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Darian fibbed politely. “I thought you looked familiar.”

  “I still get fan letters now and again. Mostly because of my live performances, but the CD is still around for those who know where to order it. And I’ve got videos up. You can locate them by searching my name.”

  “Are you planning to perform around here?” Argo asked—also, Darian suspected, just to be kind. He couldn’t see Argo pressuring him to see Vaughan in concert anytime soon.

  “Yeah, but since we’re new in town, I’m taking things slow. Checking out the scene, you know. I figured I’d start with coffeehouse performances and make some contacts. After that, I could set up a schedule—a few nights at one venue, a few days off, then a couple more somewhere else. Each one would get a little bigger, right, as word spreads? Eventually I could rent the auditorium at Kim and Darian’s school. Split the profits with the admins. I think they’d go for that, don’t you?”