Belle Pointe

“Not as much as Buck, I bet,” she said.

He turned his head to look at her. “And now here you are reporting on an obscure political race in Mississippi while he’s recuperating in St. Louis. What’s wrong with that picture?”

She pulled a tape recorder from her bag and set it on his desk. After checking to see that it was on, she asked, “Is that how you see the position as state senator in this district…obscure?”

He paused with a look of chagrin. “I apologize if I trespassed into personal territory.”

“Apology accepted.” She let her gaze wander to the window. Then, because she liked him, she said, “For what it’s worth, Chief Breedlove, Buck belongs to his public, but I don’t. So I’m just having a little break from all that while I’m here in Tallulah.”

It was probably more than he wanted—or needed—to know, but it was the explanation she planned to give while in Tallulah. He wouldn’t be the only person who would ask outright why she wasn’t with Buck.

He straightened from his desk. “Call me Jack,” he said.

She smiled. “Okay, Jack.” While he went back to his chair, she checked to see the tape was still running, then opened the flap of her notepad and clicked her pen to start writing. She liked to have tape as backup, but she usually wrote from her notes. “First question: Why do you think you’re the better man for the job than your opponent?”

“Are you kidding?” He grinned, enjoying himself. “How much time do you have? This could take a while.”