Gone: An Emma Caldridge Novella: Part Two of Three Read Free

your way to Vegas?”
    Emma poured the cream, took up a teaspoon and stirred.
    “No,” she said.
    “Staying here at the motel?”
    Emma watched him over the rim of her coffee cup as she sipped.
    “No,” she said.
    “Where are you staying?”
    “Why do you ask?”
    He sat up straighter and pinned her with a look. “When I ask a question I expect an answer, not another question.”
    Emma didn’t respond. She watched with satisfaction as the color in his face grew.
    “I heard a rumor from back East that someone was coming to Sunrise to look for a friend. That wouldn’t be a guy named Ryan, would it?”
    “It would.”
    He nodded. “I thought as much. Florida police called a few days ago about him. Asked if I’d seen anything suspicious around here. I told them no. They said he’s a likely suicide. You from the police?”
    “No.”
    “I saw you carrying. In Utah you’re not allowed to carry within one thousand feet of a school. We got a school right down the road, so I’m going to have to confiscate your weapons.”
    “They’re unloaded. Under Utah law I can carry. ”
    “I am the law and I know what Utah says about guns. And I expect you to come outside with me right now and surrender yours.”
    Emma was done with the small town sheriff as bully routine. She reached into her bag, drew out a small, lime green wallet and removed a business card. She slid it across the table at the sheriff.
    “I suggest you call this man before you go any further. I appreciate that it’s your job to uphold the law, but what I’m doing doesn’t break it.”
    Tarnell took the card and squinted at it. “Cameron Sumner, Southern Hemisphere Drug Defense Agency.” He tossed the card back onto the table. “Like I give a crap what this guy has to say.”
    Emma took another sip. “Sheriff, both you and I know that you haven’t a leg to stand on when you claim the right to take my weapons. Normally I’d just hand them over and go get some more—it’s not like Utah is short of gun dealers—but the sniper rifle in that lockbox belongs to Mr. Sumner and I don’t think he’d take it lightly that you confiscated it.”
    “Yeah? Well he’s sitting in Key West and I’m sitting here. Now let’s go get your guns.”
    Emma picked up her phone, dialed a number and waited. When it rolled into voice mail, she said, “Sumner, I got a man who calls himself…” She squinted at his name badge. “ . . . Sheriff Tarnell in Utah, thinking he can confiscate your unloaded weapon in my lockbox in the Jeep. I know you love that gun. What do you think I should do?” She waited. “Who’s that?” She waited again and then looked at her watch. “Okay, well I’m having breakfast now so you call me right after nine o’clock and tell me what he says.”
    She hung up and took another sip of coffee while Tarnell looked at her, clearly waiting for her to fill him in. She wouldn’t, though. He’d have to ask. He shifted and resumed the belligerent look of bullies the world over.
    “So are you coming out to give me those guns? Or am I going to have to arrest you?”
    Emma shook her head. “Neither. I’m going to wait until after nine o’clock when the governor’s office calls me back and gives me instructions.”
    Tarnell leaned forward. “You’re not scaring me with your talk. The governor knows better than to mess with Sunrise City. He’s left us alone for years and he’s going to keep on leaving us alone. Now let’s go get those guns.”
    Emma reached into her satchel, grabbed a small notebook, tore out a page, listed the guns, added Tarnell’s name and badge number, and handed it and a pen to Tarnell.
    “You write your title, the date, time, and sign your name. Then I’ll give you the guns.”
    “I’m not signing anything.”
    “Mr. Sumner is with a federal agency and I can’t surrender his property without a receipt. No signature, no guns, and we’ll just have to let the feds work this out.” Emma delivered the