Читать книгу Starting with June - Emilie Rose - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSAM FELT AS IF he’d been ambushed by his best friend and the betrayal stung. He stabbed Roth with a hard stare. “Can I speak to you in your office?”
Roth nodded and strode into his space, closing the door behind Sam.
“You set me up.”
“No. I dropped you into position without bias so you could get a feel for June without either of you knowing who the other one was. I didn’t even tell Piper you were coming, and trust me, I’m gonna catch hell for that. But those three women—Piper, June and Madison—are as tight as cellmates. What one knows, they all know. It helped that Madison was out of town. You met her when you had dinner with Piper and me.”
“Back up. You wanted me to get a feel for June without bias?” Roth’s words and matter-of-fact tone rolled around in Sam’s head until the answer sifted through. This wasn’t about getting Sam laid. “You think she’s a dirty cop?”
“What do you think?”
Sam considered her bright eyes and straightforward conversation, the flowers littering every surface of her porch, the toy box, her goody basket, ruffled bikini and ridiculous sandals. Crooked? No. Too sweet and naive for her own good? Definitely. Sexy—
Do not go there.
“No.”
“Good.” Roth rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope you’re right because of her connection to my wife, but I don’t trust anyone at this point. Keep your eyes open. Again, I apologize for the deception, but I didn’t see any other way.”
“How old is Jones?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“I would have guessed twenty-one at the most. How long has she been with the department?”
“Four years, almost five. Less time than the corruption has been going on.”
“Where was she before that?”
“She trained and worked with Raleigh PD before moving into the rental house on Madison’s farm—a farm that June inherited from her grandfather, then sold to Madison. She applied for a job with Quincey PD, and Piper’s dad, the former chief, hired her on the spot, cutting through the usual red tape like a hot knife through butter. That caused a little friction in the department, I’ve heard, and it raised a lot of questions for me as to the presence of corruption in this department.”
“Is she qualified?”
“I wouldn’t jeopardize your safety by partnering you with an incompetent.”
“An incompetent under investigation.” Everything in Sam wanted to retreat. Roth must have read it on his face.
“Jones graduated in the top five percent of her class. C’mon, Sam, you’ve had women in your platoon before. You’re no sexist pig like the other two out there.”
That raised his hackles again, but only because he didn’t like to think of his sisters being treated unfairly. “This isn’t about her being a woman, Roth. How am I supposed to investigate her when we live twenty feet apart and she brings me food?”
“You’re not a hostage dependent on her. A few brownies won’t give you Stockholm syndrome. And don’t feel too special. June feeds all of us. How else do you think I knew she could cook? The close quarters puts you in a perfect position to see who comes and goes at her place. I’m not asking you to date her. Just keep your eyes open.”
“You’re a native, too. Why can’t you show me around?”
“I’ve been away too long, and, of course, I arrested one of their own. Never mind he was caught red-handed moving moonshine. I pissed off a lot of people by calling in the ATF instead of handling the situation discreetly in-house and giving him a gentle tap on the wrist. Locals don’t trust me yet.
“Aycock and Morris worked with that deputy for more than a decade. That makes their conduct the most suspect. The Feds questioned them and don’t think they were directly involved, but I need your help deciding whether they looked the other way, if they’re good liars or not smart enough to see what was right under their noses.”
“Your father-in-law wasn’t.”
“That’s different. Lou and the dirty deputy were buddies. Lou trusted too much and ignored the obvious—something Butch White used to his advantage.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s strange hearing you defend a man you once cursed, the same man who ran you out of Quincey and threatened to lock you up if you ever returned or contacted his daughter again. But pairing me with June—not a good idea. She’s my neighbor...”
“You’ll deal with it. As a female, June is less likely to be part of the good-ol’-boy network. But she’s lived in Quincey long enough to know how this town operates and to possibly have been contaminated by all the I’ll-scratch-your-back-if-you-scratch-mine crap.”
Sam still wanted no part of being strapped to his pretty neighbor. “Let me recon solo. It’s what I do best.”
“You should have realized by now that Quincey’s like a fishbowl. Our fine citizens have been watching your every move since you drove into town. You don’t fit our typical tourist stereotype. That’s one reason we didn’t get together before this morning. Here, solo, you’d be suspect. But June is Quincey’s sweetheart. With her by your side, folks will let down their guard. Give it a month, Sam. Then you’ll have your own car or you’ll be finished with the assignment. Can’t you handle four weeks—less if you provide evidence to who’s dirty and who isn’t sooner?”
Sam gritted his teeth. What choice did he have? He’d made a promise. “Affirmative.”
“Good. Then let’s get you sworn in. Our esteemed mayor has arrived.”
The sarcastic bite to the word esteemed caught Sam’s attention. “Not a fan?”
“He’s a big fish in a little puddle. Likes to throw his weight around. What do you think?”
They’d both had their share of abuse of power—usually the short officers with big mouths and bigger egos. “Roger. Trust him?”
“He’s a butt-kissing politician.”
Negative. “’Nuff said.”
Roth yanked open his office door. “Jones, bring Rivers’s gear. We need a witness. You’re it. Let’s get this show on the road. We have work to do.”
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER June closed her cruiser door and turned to face the man riding shotgun. Her goal was to make the loop around town, introduce Mr. Bad Attitude to as many people as possible, then dump him back at the station.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were the new deputy?” she demanded.
“I didn’t know you were with Quincey PD.”
“How long have you known the chief?”
“What makes you think I do?”
Anger and exasperation vied for supremacy. “Can’t you just answer the question? Your evasions are really irritating.”
“What makes you think I’m dodging?”
She battled an urge to bash her head on the steering wheel. “You answer every question with a question. But the answer you’re seeking is—when you’re with the chief, your body language isn’t that of two men who just met.”
“You’re a body-language expert?”
Cocky bastard. “Let’s just say it’s a hobby. Where did you train?”
“Marine Corps.”
“Mar—” And then it hit her. “You’re Roth’s friend. The one who—” Lost his career over an eye injury. Piper and Madison had mentioned him. But Sam had the sunglasses back in place, so June couldn’t check for visible damage. “You just got out,” she amended when he stiffened.
“Affirmative.” His head turned toward her. There was no reflection in his lenses despite the sun rising behind her back. But then, a sniper wouldn’t want to give away his position with a glint in the sunshine, and Sam, according to the stories she’d heard from Piper, had been a scout sniper like Roth.
“How much visual impairment do you have?”
Tawny brows slammed down behind his shades and those soft lips compressed into a firm line. “Enough to lose my job, but not enough to keep me from doing this one.”
Dear Lord, please keep me from beating this man to death with my baton.
“What made you become a cop?”
“Roth needed help. Do you put everyone through an interrogation or am I special?”
June was the patient one in her family, the peacemaker, the temper soother, the freakin’ Rock of Gibraltar. If her siblings could see how close she was to totally losing her control at this moment, they’d be shocked.
“You’re carrying a loaded weapon and supposed to be watching my back. That makes you pretty darned special—to me. I don’t doubt your skills as a Marine or at handling weapons since you and Roth are still alive, but have you had Basic Law Enforcement Training or worked as an MP?”
“Negative. As the chief knows. But I don’t engage without intel. Roth sent me BLET textbooks and Quincey’s regulations. I’m prepared.”
Textbook trained. No practical experience. Sam must be desperate for a job. And Roth...well, he was a really good friend to Sam. Sympathy battled frustration. Sam might be an obnoxious ass, but his career had been taken from him, and he was struggling to find a new place. The way veterans were treated was shameful. As her godfather had been, Sam would be a fish out of water until he found his footing. That went a long way toward explaining his defensive behavior and bitten-off responses.
She could help him adjust. But to do that she had to accept that he wasn’t going to be an equal partner for a while. He’d be like a rookie, a liability, and she was responsible for making sure nothing happened to the chief’s pal until Sam was ready to work on his own.
The real challenge would be helping him without smacking the inconsiderate, rude jerk upside his handsome head. No small task. But she, the mediator and voice of reason in the Jones clan, was up to it.
She hoped.
* * *
OVER THE PAST three hours Sam had been grilled by what seemed like half the population of Quincey. He felt like a carcass—after the buzzards had finished their meal. Capture and interrogation would have been easier because at least then he wouldn’t have had to be polite.
June checked her mirrors, then pulled the cruiser back onto the road again. Sam spotted yet another citizen a quarter mile away “checking her mail,” and June, predictably, lifted her foot from the gas pedal.
“Are we going to stop every fifty yards?” Sam groused.
“The chief ordered me to introduce you to the people you’ve sworn to protect and serve.”
“My sisters are less nosy.”
The smirk on her face was unmistakable.
“You’re enjoying this,” he accused.
“Oh yeah.” She flashed a blinding white smile. His heart jolted—but only as a result of her driving through a pothole that should have broken the front axle. The irregular rhythm had nothing to do with the mischievous sparkle in her green eyes.
“How old are your sisters?”
He had a feeling she hadn’t missed one thing the citizens of Quincey had tortured out of him. “Forty-four, forty-one and thirty-nine,” he bit out through clenched teeth. He’d managed to avoid answering June’s questions, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell the octogenarian at their last stop to mind her own business.
“And you’re what? Thirty-seven? Thirty-six?”
Did he look that old? He tried not to be insulted. But hell, he was. “Thirty-one.”
“Big age gap. I would never have guessed you’re the baby.”
Something in her tone stiffened his spine. “Why?”
“Youngest children are usually charming people pleasers, and you are definitely not, Deputy Rivers. Were you a surprise baby?”
She was just full of joy today, wasn’t she? “My mother’s second marriage.”
“Ah.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mea—” The squawk of their radios cut him off.
“Jones. Report.”
Sam ID’d Roth’s voice.
“On Deer Trail, Chief,” June responded. “Still making the rounds.”
“Someone’s egging cars over on Oak Hill. Check it out.”
“Will do.” She flipped on the blue lights, accelerated and waved as they passed a senior citizen waiting by her mailbox. Despite the woman’s obvious disappointment, June didn’t stop. Sam said a silent thank-you. He’d been grilled enough today.
“Eggers are usually kids, aren’t they?” he speculated. “And kids should be in school.”
“Speaking from experience?”
He refrained from answering. A few miles later she rounded a bend, slowed and turned off the lights simultaneously. He spotted two heads rising from the ragweed in the ditch, arms reared back. Boys. In their early teens. They dropped their ammo and took off.
“We have runners,” she said into her radio. June threw the car into Park, flung open her door and raced after the kids. Sam followed, a beat behind, logging details as he sprinted through the waist-high weeds. Deputy Jones was fast and agile. The boys split up.
“Take right,” June called over her shoulder, then veered after the one on the left.
Sam thundered across the unfamiliar terrain. He was used to creeping undetected, not trampling plants, careless of the noise he made. Adrenaline pumping, he went down into a shallow creek bed and back up the other side, gaining on his target and ignoring the briars ripping at his clothes. “The farther you run, the more you’ll piss me off,” he shouted, but his quarry didn’t slow.
Sam could take down and incapacitate an insurgent in seconds, but he had no clue how to deal with a troublemaking kid not wearing explosives. This one showed no signs of surrendering. Sam made a running tackle, banded his arms around the brat and hit the dirt. He rolled to take as much of the impact as he could and skidded across the leafy forest floor holding on to the bucking boy. When they stopped, he pinned the kid to the ground and scrambled for the cuffs on his belt. It took a couple of tries with the unfamiliar equipment before he had the subject hog-tied. Now what?
He rose and yanked the redheaded, freckle-faced youth to his feet. They were both breathing hard.
“I didn’t do anything,” Freckles shouted.
“Then why’d you run? Running from cops can get you shot.”
“It was Joey’s idea.”
No loyalty. A Marine would never give up his man. “Let’s go.”
Grabbing the narrow biceps, he frog-marched the teen back to the patrol car and met June and her quarry strolling side by side out of the woods. No cuffs. She took one look at Sam and though she said nothing, her disapproval was clear in the hiking of those golden eyebrows and her down-turned lips.
“Suspects apprehended,” she said into her shoulder radio. “It’s Joey and Tyler.”
“Affirmative,” Roth responded.
“What were you thinking?” she asked the boys as they approached the patrol car.
“Aw, c’mon, June, it’s not like we were hurting anything.”
“Eggs damage paint. Get in the back, Joey.”
“But, June—”
“Save it.”
Sam circled to the opposite side of the cruiser and opened the door. That was when he noticed neither June nor her kid were covered in leaves, twigs and debris the way Sam and his prisoner were.
“Deputy Rivers, please remove the cuffs before putting Tyler in the back.”
The kids referred to her by name, and she knew theirs. Frequent fliers? She returned to the ditch, grabbed a basket, which she put in the trunk, then climbed back behind the wheel. She acted as calm as if they’d taken their guests on a picnic. His blood was pumping. This was probably routine for her. Not so for him.
“That’s Miss Letty’s basket, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” she repeated when they ducked their heads and didn’t answer. “You know she and her son live off what she grows. She’s poor, and Jim Bob isn’t like the rest of us. And you took their food. Shame on you.” The boys shrank into their seats.
“You’re not gonna call our parents, are you?” the one Sam had nailed wailed.
“Oh, I’ll talk to your parents, but first I have something else in mind.”
Sam glanced through the grate and saw worry and dread in the faces too young to shave. “Vandalism is a crime. Do you want a criminal record to ruin your futures?” He used his sternest voice, trying to scare the piss out of them. Their pale faces and wide eyes told him it had worked.
“Guys, this is Deputy Rivers. Sorry you had to meet this way.” June put the car in motion, heading away from the station instead of toward it. Was she going to torture her passengers with the same parade through town Sam had endured?
Two klicks down the road she turned up a dirt driveway flanked by overgrown grass and weeds. A small, old, formerly white clapboard house smaller than his rental came into view. She tooted the horn. A tiny woman as weathered as the peeling building came out the front door. The teens sunk even deeper into the seat with a chorus of Oh man’s.
June got out and released her passenger. Following her lead, Sam did the same. Then she retrieved the basket from the trunk. Sam kept an eye on the boys, expecting them to bolt.
“Miss Letty, this is Deputy Rivers. He helped me catch these rascals. They’ve been in your henhouse.”
June cut a razor-sharp glance at the boys, who shuffled their feet and tucked their chins, then mumbled, “Sorry, Miss Letty.”
“Ya stole my eggs?”
Heads bobbed. “Yes, ma’am.”
June passed her the basket. “There are a few left. After school tomorrow Tyler and Joey will each bring you two dollars.”
They boys eyed June, then each other in dismay.
“Well, I...” the old lady started to protest.
“It’s the least they can do, Miss Letty.”
The old woman nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
June snapped her fingers. “Back in the car, boys.”
Sam was more than a little surprised when they docilely did as ordered. June crossed to the old woman and gave her a hug. “Have a nice afternoon, Miss Letty. Tell Jim Bob I said hello. I’ll be back on Thursday with banana bread. If these boys don’t show tomorrow, you let me know.”
“What was that about?” Sam asked her over the car’s roof after the boys were back in the car and before she opened her door.
“Around here we don’t steal, and we take care of our own.”
Take Care of Your Own was a motto Marines lived by and could be iffy if abused. Was June overstepping her authority by forcing the boys to pay the woman? Seemed like it.
Again June steered away from the station. Approximately ten klicks down the road she turned the cruiser into a church parking lot, and the boys groaned. “C’mon, June. We’re sorry.”
“You will be.”
The building was old enough to have a historic marker out front. Founded in 1898 by Ezekiel Jones, it proclaimed. Signs along the road and driveway advertised a barbecue fund-raiser being held this Saturday.
“Just call our parents, please,” Carrottop pleaded.
“I did that last time. It didn’t work, did it? ’Cause here you are, hitching a ride with me again,” June replied. “This is the second time I’ve picked you two up for malicious mischief.”
She stopped the cruiser in front of the stone house beside the church, exited the car and then released their prisoners. The boys exchanged panicked glances.
“Don’t even think about running,” June warned, and the boys’ shoulders sagged. “I’m faster than both of you and I know where you live.”
They obediently followed her up the walk with scuffing feet and bowed heads. No cuffs. No use of force. What in the hell? Each one outweighed her but they made no attempt to escape. Sam took rear guard just in case. June knocked on the arched wooden door and a few moments later it opened, revealing an older man in a suit.
“Hi, Daddy.”
The words floored Sam. June was a preacher’s daughter? Then he noticed the lack of welcome in the man’s eyes—the same green as June’s—and the absence of a hug. His father would have crushed him with one if he’d shown up on the doorstep. That thought drove a bayonet of guilt into Sam’s ribs. He wanted to talk to his father, to get his advice, and yet he didn’t want to admit failure. Being separated from the corps was definitely a failure. Unless he could fix it.
“Justice.”
“Joey and Tyler have come to volunteer their services to the church this Saturday. They’d like to wash cars during your barbecue. They won’t charge the church, but they’ll accept donations for the youth mission fund.”
The boys grumbled again until the preacher’s hard stare silenced them. “Is that so?”
He continued giving them the beady eye until they nodded and Yes, sir’d.
“They’ll be here at eleven and they’ll stay until the last car leaves. I’d appreciate it if you’d feed them and keep them hydrated.”
“Good to know some of our members know how to repent,” the preacher said, and June paled. “I’ll see that they get lunch.”
“See you Saturday, then, Daddy.” She turned on her heel and headed back to the cruiser. The teens fell in behind her like baby ducks following momma duck.
Sam took another look at the man’s harsh face, then at June. He couldn’t help wondering if the clichés about a preacher’s daughter being wild were true. From the man’s comment about repenting and his chilly attitude, it sounded like it, but that didn’t fit June’s image as Quincey’s sweetheart. As Roth had predicted, everybody they’d encountered this morning adored her.
One thing was certain. His fellow deputy had just become a whole lot more interesting if she’d done something her father couldn’t forgive.
* * *
SAM STALKED INTO Roth’s office at the end of his shift. The day had been worse than enemy capture and torture. “You have to pair me with one of the men tomorrow.”
Roth pointed at the chair in front of his desk. Sam sat, relieved to see the end of his first day as a deputy. “Why?”
“After we apprehended the egg throwers, June took them to the lady they stole the eggs from and promised they’d reimburse her. Then your deputy took them to her father’s church and volunteered them to wash cars for a church fund-raiser. She never Mirandized them. And that’s not by the book.”
“No, it isn’t, but neither is it out of line. They weren’t formally charged.”
Matter of opinion. Not Sam’s. “After that she took them to school and told their science teacher that the boys would like to do a report and a presentation to their class on how eggs damage auto paint. She touted it as a great learning experience for all.”
Roth’s face remained inscrutable. “Is that right?”
“Only then did she drive each one of the brats to his daddy’s office and tell the fathers what their sons had done and where the boys would be on Saturday and about the school project. Instead of wasting an entire afternoon on these little vandals, she should have hauled them here and tossed them into a cell to cool their heels until their parents posted bail and picked them up. June is more mommy than deputy.”
Roth rocked back in his chair. “I told you small-town policing is like nothing you’ve ever seen. I had issues with June’s technique, too, when I first started here, and then my father-in-law set me straight. June’s approach may be unconventional. It certainly wouldn’t work in Raleigh, where she trained. But it works here. For what it’s worth, Miss Letty barely scrapes by since her husband died a few years back, and the boys attend Pastor Jones’s church. They’re probably even going on the mission trip. Reparation might not be a bad idea. As for the school thing...we could do with a few less juvenile delinquents. They’re Quincey’s biggest problem.”
Dumbfounded, Sam stared at his friend. “What has small-town living done to the rule-following Marine I knew? June’s dispensing her own brand of justice. Hell, she was judge and jury, too.”
“Supposing she’d done as you suggested and brought the boys to the station and charged them with petty vandalism, following textbook procedure. Tyler’s daddy’s a lawyer, a good one, I hear, and Joey’s dad was Quincey’s all-star quarterback fifteen years ago. He took the team to the state championship and threw the winning touchdown. That’s something folks around here don’t forget. I suspect the judge would have thrown out both boys’ cases.”
“You have to be kidding me. We caught them red-handed.”
“I hear what you’re saying, Sam, and now you understand some of my frustration. In reality, strings would have been pulled, charges dropped, etc. The boys’ punishment would have been over before the ink dried on the paperwork, and they’d have learned that their daddies can get them out of trouble. Or if by some fluke the charges weren’t dropped, the boys would have a permanent juvenile record for stealing and throwing a couple dollars’ worth of eggs. You and I both did worse as kids.
“Now put yourself in their current situation.” Grinning, Roth shook his head. “June’s going to torture the ever-livin’ hell out of them for a week. Tyler and Joey will also serve as examples to their peers when they’re stuck washing cars Saturday afternoon while their buddies are eating barbecue and throwing around the football on the church lawn. And when they’re forced to stand up and give that oral report, the message will be driven home again. Screw up in Quincey and you pay. You tell me which punishment is more likely to discourage repeat offenders.”
As soon as Roth said it, Sam got it. He didn’t like it. He preferred rules and clear-cut consequences for breaking them. He liked going through the proper chain of command. But he understood June’s angle. He nodded.
“I hear you, but I’d still like to work with Morris or Aycock tomorrow. That woman likes a captive audience. She nearly talked the boys’ ears off. Mine, too.”
Roth cracked a smile. “Sam, she’s the most even-tempered woman I’ve ever met or worked with. How did you manage to get on her bad side so quickly?”
The chair suddenly felt harder. “What makes you think I did?”
“She’s beat you in here by ten minutes to request that your training be handled by one of the other deputies.”
That rankled. Sam had never had anyone refuse to work with him before. On the contrary, he’d had more ask to be assigned to work with him than his superiors could accommodate. He was imperturbable, eternally patient, a damned good shot, and top-notch at calculating trajectories, wind velocities and spindrift.
“She doesn’t want to work with me? What’s her problem?”
“You. She claims you’re too rigid and used excessive force when you handcuffed Tyler Newsome for throwing eggs.”
“I cuffed the little bast—brat for evading arrest. He ran.”
“He’s barely thirteen.”
“So were two of the suicide bombers I was sent to take out.”
A sobering silence filled the room. Roth had been there, done that. The first kid Sam had been sent after hadn’t even started shaving, but the explosives wrapped around his chest as he’d strolled into a crowded marketplace that had included many Marines had been impossible to miss. That had been a hard one. The bastards over there had used women and children on a regular basis. Subsequent assignments hadn’t gotten any easier. But Sam had done what was necessary to save lives.
He replaced the bad memories by dredging up an image of angry green eyes and golden hair pulled into a stubby ponytail instead.
“What else is she whining about?” Sam groused.
“She claims you were abrupt with the citizens who tried to welcome you. You even refused Mrs. Ray’s turtle soup.”
That bit him like belly-crawling over a ground nest of yellow jackets. “I don’t like turtle soup, and I met a hundred people today. June never got the car above ten miles per hour. And then she took me to the diner for lunch. A cavity search would’ve been less invasive. It was like being autopsied while I was still alive.” He’d barely been able to eat for people dropping by their table and grilling him.
Roth’s grin widened. “Welcome to Quincey. Give it time. It’ll grow on you.”
“Like fungus?”
Roth laughed. “Ah, you remember my description of coming home. See you in the morning. If you’re nice, maybe June will let you drive.”
Frustrated, Sam rose. “If I wanted to be tortured by females, I’d go home to my sisters.”
“Good idea. I’ll give you three days’ leave if you want to visit your family. But you’re still partnered with Jones.”
His sisters made the citizens of Quincey look like amateur sleuths.
“I don’t need leave.”
At least he and June agreed on one thing. Neither wanted to work together. But he’d change her mind. Then when he repeated his request for a different partner, maybe Roth would listen.
