Page 24 of Missing Pieces (Brantley Walker: Off the Books #12)

“How big were they again?” Brantley asked Reese as they sat across from one another at the diner.

When they’d arrived, just after six, the darkness of night was slowly being saturated by daylight even though the sun hadn’t risen yet.

It had been late enough for the diner to be open but too early for it to be occupied by anyone other than a couple of temporary ranch hands helping out somewhere in the vicinity.

Now that it was closer to seven, people were beginning to trickle in as steadily as the sun was rising in the sky.

“Little boy was five pounds two ounces,” Reese said, pushing his plate away. “Eighteen inches exact. And the little girl was four pounds fourteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches.”

“The numbers seem big to me, but they were so small.”

“I think the doctors were impressed with their size.”

Yeah, that’s what Wes had told them.

After receiving the good news that JJ and the babies were doing well, they’d lingered at the hospital, waiting for a moment to slip in and see her.

As soon as Brantley laid eyes on his best friend, he knew she was eager for some rest. Still, she managed to smile, reassuring him that everything was good.

After a quick hug, they slipped out with everyone else who was heading home to get sleep, what little there was to be had.

When they left, Wes, Jules, and Baz were the only ones still there and upright.

He figured they would faceplant in a bed at some point, but probably not until some of the elation of the day wore off.

As for faceplanting into bed, it sounded like the best idea in the world, and Brantley intended to get right on that just as soon as they had breakfast. Afterward, they could catch a few hours of sleep and hopefully not lose an entire day.

“What’re your thoughts on havin’ kids now?” Brantley asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I’m good with the four-legged variety,” Reese answered, sipping coffee. “They sure were cute, though.”

Yes, they were. As cute as something that had spent the past eight or so months cramped in a tiny space full of fluid could be.

“Is it all the cryin’ that puts you off?” Brantley probed. “Because I’m sure fathers and grandfathers don’t do that all the time.”

Reese huffed a laugh. “They were tears of relief.”

“That’s what Baz claims, but I have to wonder.”

Brantley didn’t feel guilty about picking on Wes or Baz, but that was likely because he’d shed a tear or two as well.

The babies were as close to perfect as premature twins could be.

At least, that was what the scuttlebutt was.

Since the babies had been moved to the NICU, as Dr. Tinder had warned might happen, Brantley questioned the validity of the rumors.

Something about Apgar scores not being where they would like them to be.

According to Wes, the doctors and nurses were doing everything they could to ensure the babies got what they needed.

Since they were the ones with the training and know-how, he had to believe that was the truth. So they were taking it all as good until someone told them otherwise.

Which he hoped didn’t happen.

“They are kind of adorable, huh?” Brantley asked Reese, watching his face.

“Considerin’ who their parents are, they’ve hit the gene-pool lottery.”

Brantley smiled. “True.”

Reese lifted a hand and waved the server over.

“More coffee?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” Reese told her while Brantley covered his cup to signal he didn’t want any. “Can we get the check?”

“Sure thing.” She pulled out her notepad and ripped off the top sheet. Reese didn’t even look at it before passing her his credit card.

Brantley leaned back and fought the urge to rub his eyes. He felt like his eyeballs had been sandblasted, and he knew if he didn’t get horizontal soon, that headache he’d managed to avoid was going to come on with a vengeance.

The server returned with the card and the receipt for Reese to sign. Before he even picked up the pen, Brantley was on his feet. Tesha followed suit, lumbering out from under the table where she’d been sleeping.

“It’s naptime, girl,” Brantley told her as they waited for Reese.

As they walked out of the diner, Brantley was already daydreaming about his pillow. But as soon as he stepped into the brilliant Texas sunshine, he got the feeling that faceplanting in his bed wasn’t going to happen as soon as he would like.

“Is that—” Reese nodded in the direction of the woman strolling their way.

“Slade’s mother? Yeah.”

“She’s up early, huh?”

“Real early,” Brantley agreed.

“Do you think we’re in trouble?” Reese whispered, a smile plastered on his face.

Since she was making a beeline for them, he had to think there was a good possibility.

“Heel,” Reese said to Tesha, his way of keeping her close and letting her know everything was all right.

Rose Jameson-Elliott started speaking as she approached. “Oh, good. I’m glad I ran into you boys. I need a favor.”

Standing up straight because he couldn’t help himself, Brantley pasted on a smile. “Good mornin’, Mrs. Elliott.”

She chuckled, her expression softening. “First, let me apologize for my manners. Good morning.” Rose swatted a hand in his direction. “And secondly, Mrs. Elliott was what you called me when I taught you in third grade. Since we’re all grownups now, you can call me Rose.”

Brantley wasn’t sure he could do that, but he nodded his head and fought the urge to salute her and call her ma’am .

Rose looked a lot like her older sister, Lorrie.

She had the same softness to her face, the same intelligent blue eyes.

If Brantley recalled correctly, Rose was about a decade younger than Lorrie, but they both looked significantly younger than they probably should, considering they’d raised such rowdy boys.

And yeah, Rose’s sons—Kieran, Brad, Grady, Vince, Slade, and Spencer—could easily give him and his brothers a run for their money.

Hell, they were quite possibly rowdier than Travis and his brothers back in the day.

“I’m here on behalf of my niece Callie.” Rose pointed away from the diner, far off into the distance. “As you probably know, she’s the principal of CRHS.”

Was that what she was doing? Aiming in the direction of Coyote Ridge High School?

Perhaps she thought she was. It was actually a bit south of her position, but Brantley wasn’t about to tell her that.

He also didn’t tell her he didn’t know she was related to the principal.

Or that he didn’t even know the principal’s name until two seconds ago.

Since he wasn’t around kids that fell in that age range, Brantley didn’t keep up with the goings-on at the high school.

Or any of the schools, for that matter, except for the rare occasions when his nieces or nephew had a Christmas pageant or something of the sort.

“Is everything all right?” Reese asked.

“No.” Rose sighed heavily. “Someone stole the mustang.”

Brantley frowned. “Are we talkin’ a car or a horse?”

“Horse. Specifically, the bronze statue,” Rose clarified. “From in front of the school.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, Brantley wasn’t sure whether he was worried or impressed.

Considering the rearing horse sculpture probably weighed close to half a ton, he had to give props to whoever pulled off that prank.

And since the principal wasn’t aware of it being rehomed, he had to figure that was what this was.

However, he tended not to leap to conclusions.

“Maybe someone sent it out to get repaired and didn’t tell the boss?” he suggested.

“If only it were that easy.”

Brantley waited for her to say more, but Rose simply stared back at them with what looked like expectation in her cool blue eyes.

It freaked him out that his first instinct was to fidget like he had back when he was in the third grade.

Reese fought the urge to laugh.

In all the time he’d known Brantley, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him quite so … uncomfortable. Almost as though he was standing in the principal’s office, about to be reprimanded. Not having a casual discussion in a parking lot with one of his former teachers.

Sure, she was now a school board member, but what did that matter? They didn’t have kids in school. Didn’t know anyone who did.

Well, that wasn’t true. They knew people. People who had kids. In school. Not high school. Probably.

Regardless, Mrs. Elliott was harmless because they were grown men now, not kids.

So why was she looking at them like that? Like she was studying them, looking deep into their thoughts. Was that something they taught in teacher school? How to intimidate kids. Or grown men, as was the case here.

Okay, so maybe he understood a little of Brantley’s discomfort. Mrs. Elliott had been one of Reese’s favorite teachers, but coming face to face with her now was strange.

Since neither Rose nor Brantley appeared eager to speak up, Reese asked, “Is there somethin’ you’d like us to do about the statue?”

Rose’s gaze shifted to him. “Yes. Find it.”

Reese’s eyebrows hopped toward his hairline. “Find it?”

She flashed a smile at Tesha, reaching down to pet her head. “Yes.”

Surely he wasn’t understanding. “The bronze statue?”

She stood tall once more. “Correct.”

Now it was his turn to stammer. “We … umm … that’s not usually the … uh … the sort of case we handle.”

“I’m aware.” Rose looked back and forth between them.

“And I know this isn’t an urgent matter—well, it kinda is to Callie with homecoming and all that, but…

” She waved her hand again. “But it’s missing, and your team finds missing people, so I just figured if you could tackle finding the human element, you could easily do this. ”

He was still fighting the urge to laugh as he shot a confused glance at Brantley.

“She does kinda have a point,” Brantley noted.

Reese’s mouth fell open. Was he saying…?

Brantley’s grin was that of a devilish man, but Reese suspected only he would notice.

“We’ll get our best people on it, Mrs. Elliott,” Brantley told her.

Reese harnessed every ounce of willpower to keep from asking Brantley if he’d lost his damn mind. Instead, he watched as Rose narrowed her eyes at Brantley, cocking one perfectly arched eyebrow.

Brantley cleared his throat. “I mean, Rose.”

She smiled. “Thank you. And if you could keep it quiet, that would be wonderful. The last thing we need is for Brett to get word of it.”

Brett? Reese let the name tumble around in his gray matter until it found something that made sense.

He assumed she was referring to Brett Jameson, the superintendent of Coyote Ridge ISD, who also happened to be Callie’s older brother.

The only reason he knew of the man was because Trey had mentioned him when explaining that he was building an agricultural barn for the high school on their newly acquired property.

Apparently, Brett had to sign off on it.

“We’ll do our best,” he promised when Brantley didn’t respond.

“Okay then.” Rose smiled. “I’ll let you get to it.”

With that, she strolled into the diner on her two-inch heels, as prim and proper as he remembered her when she was his teacher. As soon as she was inside, he hurried to catch up with Brantley, who’d made a beeline for the truck.

“I think you’re sleep deprived,” he accused, helping Tesha into the truck.

“Probably.”

“You just had to tell her we’d do this.” Reese shook his head, still baffled that Brantley would cave so easily.

“You do know I’m not huntin’ down that horse, right?” Brantley muttered as he was getting behind the wheel.

“You’re the one who took the case,” he countered.

Brantley’s eyes were wide when he looked over, his voice raspy. “I couldn’t tell her no. It’s like she had this”—he mimicked gripping someone around the throat—“hold on me. I had no choice.”

Reese understood the feeling all too well, which was why he said, “Why don’t we let Atticus run with it?”

Brantley barked a laugh. “Oh, that should be fun.”

Reese thought so.