Читать книгу Her Small-Town Sheriff - Lissa Manley, Lissa Manley - Страница 10

Chapter Two

After work, Carson headed home, dreading the upcoming conversation with Heidi. Given everything else she was dealing with, he hated having to call her on her behavior. But he couldn’t let what she’d done slide. Shoplifting was a serious offense, and he had to impress on her that stealing was wrong.

He pulled up to his rented midcentury three-bedroom, two-bath saltbox-style house and parked in the driveway; the garage was still full of moving boxes and extra furniture he hadn’t been able to part with when they’d moved. Someday he’d get to sorting through all of it, but right now, just the thought of the chore overwhelmed him and brought forth too many difficult memories.

Turning off the ignition, he sat in his SUV cruiser for a moment, relishing the calm before the inevitable storm. Then he climbed out of his vehicle, locked it and headed toward the front door, figuratively putting his “Dad” hat on.

He let himself in and went directly to the bedroom at the front of the house he used as an office and secured his service weapon in his home lockbox in the closet. He put his sheriff’s hat on his oak desk, and then walked through the small, sparsely furnished living room and went looking for Mrs. Philpot.

As expected, she was in the eat-in kitchen standing at the stove making what smelled like Salisbury steak. Carson noted that the chipped tile counters were sparkling clean, and the scuffed hardwood floors looked freshly mopped. Carson didn’t require her to do housework, but Mrs. Philpot seemed compelled to keep the place spotless, which he was thankful for. With his schedule, he didn’t have much time for housework, and he hadn’t had the chance to hire someone to come in and clean.

Today Mrs. Philpot was dressed in a hot-pink tracksuit and white tennis shoes. Her short, bright, unnaturally red hair—colored, he was sure, but, hey, whatever—was, as always, perfectly styled, and her tortoiseshell glasses sat atop her head. Though she was almost seventy, she was as sharp as a tack, and he suspected that today’s events were an anomaly; according to her references, not much usually got past her.

Except one determined twelve-year-old bent on misbehaving—his daughter, the escape artist/shoplifter. Wonderful. What a distinction.

“Hello, Mrs. Philpot,” he said. “Smells delicious.” She usually started dinner so Carson and Heidi didn’t end up eating at eight-thirty. That gave Heidi more time to do homework before lights-out at nine. Unless Heidi argued about having to go to bed so early, and then bedtime was more like ten.

“Hello, Sheriff Winters,” she said, raising a wooden spoon in the air. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Great.” He retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.

Mrs. Philpot turned toward him, her hands knotted together, her brow furrowed. “I am so sorry about what happened with Heidi today. She told me she was going upstairs to do her homework, and I was busy vacuuming. She must have slipped out the front door when I was down the hall and couldn’t hear or see her.” She shook her head. “I heard her music coming from her room, and, silly me, assumed she was still up there.”

He put his glass down on the counter. “Please don’t worry about this. Apparently Heidi has developed a very sneaky streak, and I’m sure she waited for the opportunity to slip by you and left her music on to throw you off the scent.”

“I was just on my way upstairs to check on her when you called…”

“As I said when we talked on the phone, this isn’t your fault, Mrs. P. It’s Heidi’s, and she and I will definitely be talking about her consequence at dinner.”

“All right, then. Please let me know how you want me to handle keeping track of her from now on. And remember, Sheriff, this isn’t my first rodeo.” She winked at him.

Carson blinked, but he was left without an answer; it wasn’t as if they could put handcuffs on Heidi.

He walked Mrs. Philpot to the door and she left.

Sighing, Carson stood in the middle of the kitchen, hating that he had to wreck the evening with a lecture.

But there was no help for the serious conversation he and Heidi needed to have.

He called Heidi down to dinner, then went back in the kitchen and got out plates and silverware. Despite the massive ice cream cone he’d eaten earlier today, compliments of the charming Phoebe Sellers, he was starving; he and Heidi would have to talk while they ate.

A few moments later, Heidi called down from upstairs, “I’m not very hungry, Dad.”

Classic avoidance.

Sighing, he went to the bottom of the stairs. Heidi sat on the top step, looking mighty worried if you asked him; she was a smart kid, and she knew she’d messed up. She had her long, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she’d changed into gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt as opposed to the jeans or legging thingies she usually wore to school. Her feet were bare, and he noticed she’d painted her toenails a funky blue. Gone were the days she used some demure shade of pink.

“Well, come on down and at least sit with me,” he said. “You know I don’t like eating alone.” Going from a family of four to a family of two almost overnight did that to a guy.

Heidi scrunched up her face. “Do I have to?” she groused.

“Yup, you do.” He headed back to the kitchen. “You’ll probably get hungry when you see what Mrs. P. whipped up.”

Just as he was loading a plate with food, Heidi appeared at the kitchen door.

He motioned her in. “Sure you don’t want some?” he asked, holding up the serving spoon. “It looks delicious.”

Heidi shrugged. “All right, maybe a little.” Guess she was hungry after all if she was willing to step into the fire.

When they were seated at the table, he took a few bites, marveling at Mrs. Philpot’s cooking skills. The meal was delicious, and certainly better than the frozen pizza he would have thrown in the oven if she hadn’t made dinner.

Heidi sat slumped in her chair and simply pushed her food around with her fork without speaking or looking at him.

He ate and just let the silence sink in for a bit; she needed to stew for while, worry some. When she finally started fidgeting, he cleared his throat and said, “So, as you know, I had a call from Ms. Sellers from the ice cream parlor today.”

Heidi studied her plate as if it held the magical key to getting out of the inevitable conversation. After a long silence, she huffed and put her fork down with a clank. “Yeah,” she said, her voice defiant. “So?”

His gut burned. “So? You shoplifted, Heidi. What were you thinking?” he asked, his voice low but intense. “Ms. Sellers could have pressed charges.”

Heidi slanted a decidedly worried glance at him, biting her lip. “So did she?”

“No, she didn’t, luckily for you.” He swiped a hand over his eyes, wishing he could wipe away the scene playing out before him. “She could have, though, and probably should have. But she’s a nice woman, and she wanted to cut you a break.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Heidi asked, giving him the classic eye roll.

Dropping his jaw, he stared at her, absolutely flabbergasted. “Are you kidding me? The problem is you snuck out of the house and stole candy.”

She said nothing, did nothing. Just sat there, blank. Unrepentant. Who was this sullen kid? What had happened to his little pigtailed daughter with two missing front teeth? The one who actually cared about what he thought? Suddenly he missed that kid, but feared he’d never have her back. Susan leaving had really knocked a hole in their lives, and he’d lost so much more than a wife that stormy winter day Susan had left.

He looked at the ceiling, taking a moment to get ahold of the anxiety bubbling through him. Finally, he said, “Don’t you get that what you did was wrong?”

Heidi shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Her nonchalance raised his blood pressure another notch. “So why did you do it?”

Nothing.

“Heidi?” he said firmly, resisting the urge to raise his voice. “Tell me.”

She let out a huff. “Because Briana and Jessie dared me, okay?”

So Phoebe had been right. Even so, he dipped his chin and just stared at Heidi, as if to say, you did this on a stupid dare?

Her eyes glimmered, and he guessed her control was slipping. “They said that I wouldn’t have the guts because I was the sheriff’s daughter.”

Her words hit him like well-aimed bullets, and he winced inwardly. His first instinct was to back off a bit; it probably was hard at times to be a small-town sheriff’s kid. Kind of like being the minister’s kid—expectations were higher somehow.

But, no. He couldn’t cave and go easy on Heidi. There was a lot at stake here, and he had to be a strong father for his daughter’s sake; a statement about an inch and a mile flitted through his brain. Hopefully she’d thank him someday.

“So you broke the law to prove you weren’t chicken,” he stated, trying to stay calm.

Suddenly the dam broke, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Yes, I did,” she cried. “They said they’d be my friends if I did it.”

Searing pain streaked through his heart, and he resisted the urge to scoop his baby girl into his arms and make everything all right. Poor Heidi. She’d been through so much lately, more, really, than any kid should have to bear. “So you did it to make them like you?” he got out.

Looking at the floor, she nodded.

His throat tightened. What could he say to that? Heidi was the new girl in town, and he knew she desperately wanted to fit in. But, again, he had to be strong, had to keep the big picture in mind. He had to do the hard thing here; parenting wasn’t for wimps, and here he was, doing it all alone.

Grim resignation settled down around him.

He fisted his hands, hating what he had to do. “Well, honey, I’m sorry they dangled that in front of you. That was a cruel thing for them to do.”

She sobbed, gutting him.

He forced himself to continue. “But you’re still responsible for your choices. And you stole, period.” He sucked in air, steeling himself. “There has to be a consequence. So Ms. Sellers and I have agreed that you will spend the rest of the week doing chores at her store after school.”

Heidi froze, then blinked, clearing her wet eyes. “What? Are you kidding me?” Red-faced, she jumped to her feet. “It was no big deal, Dad. Why can’t you just let it go? Why do you have to make me work at some dumb ice cream store?”

He tightened his jaw until his head ached. “Because shoplifting was wrong, that’s why.”

She swiped the tears from her eyes. “You’re the worst dad ever!” she screamed. “Mom wouldn’t have made me do this.”

More bullets pierced him; Susan was gone and would never make a tough parenting call again. He was on his own.

He let Heidi’s comment go, sure she was speaking out of anger, which he couldn’t blame her for. He had a boatload of anger, too, mostly directed at himself, though he was also pretty mad at Susan for abandoning them.

Mostly, though, he just felt betrayed.

Heidi turned on her heel and ran out of the room, and he let her go, bleeding inside.

From the hallway she yelled, “And I’m not ever going back to that store and you can’t make me!”

Her footsteps clomped quickly up the stairs, and then he heard—and felt—her bedroom door slam.

A sense of failure screamed through him, and he pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose. His appetite gone, he shoved his plate away and slumped back in his chair. With a weary breath he looked around the kitchen, at the old appliances, ugly cabinets and hideous green-and-gold curtains the landlord had probably put up in the seventies.

The place certainly was not a home, nor the peaceful haven he wanted.

A feeling of helplessness spread through him, and suddenly, he’d never felt so alone. He’d lost his son and his wife, and any kind of peace. And now, in a way, he’d lost his little girl, too.

She hated him.

How was he supposed to face that, much less deal with it?

* * *

“Sheriff Winters is here to see you.”

Phoebe looked up from her desk, trying to ignore the little skip her heart took at the mention of the handsome sheriff. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be right out,” she said to Tanya, an energetic middle-aged woman who was her lone weekday employee.

“He has a young lady with him,” Tanya said, raising her auburn brows. “And she doesn’t look very happy to be here.”

Not surprising at all. Phoebe was guessing the hammer had come down at the Winterses’ last night. “That’s his daughter.” She rose and stretched the kinks out of her neck. “He said yesterday when he was here they’d be stopping by.”

“Why was the sheriff here? Did something happen?”

Phoebe gave herself a mental head slap. Tanya had been taking her daughter to the doctor yesterday when the shoplifting incident had occurred and when the sheriff had stopped by. She wasn’t aware of what had happened, and Phoebe wasn’t going to fill her in. Heidi’s slip-up was nobody else’s business.

She waved a hand in the air. “Oh…um…he stopped by for a cone and I told him I’d like to meet his daughter.”

Tanya nodded, apparently satisfied with Phoebe’s answer—fabulous—and they both walked out to the main part of the store. Phoebe resisted the ridiculous urge to fluff her hair. Please! Talk about a waste of energy.

Save for Carson and his daughter, the store was thankfully empty. In uniform, he stood, unsmiling, on the other side of the soda-fountain counter, his daughter beside him. He had his big hand on Heidi’s shoulder—to keep her from bolting?—and Heidi, dressed in a cute pair of black leggings, boots and a gray coat—was intently studying the floor, her mouth pressed into a decidedly rebellious scowl.

Phoebe felt bad for both of them; this clearly wasn’t a fun father/daughter trip to the ice cream parlor for treats.

“Hello, Sheriff,” Phoebe said, smiling cheerily to ease the tension, if that were possible. She looked at Heidi. “Hey, Heidi.”

Heidi replied with nothing more than a twitch of her mouth.

Carson nodded crisply, all business, his face taut. “Ms. Sellers. Heidi here would like to talk to you.”

“Sure.” Phoebe cast a surreptitious gaze around and saw Tanya over by the candy shelves, straightening some packages of gummy bears some kids had riffled through earlier.

“Um…why don’t we go back to my office,” Phoebe said, gesturing to the Winterses to follow her. For Heidi’s sake, Phoebe was determined to keep this just between the three of them.

She stepped into her office, pulled two plastic chairs from their spot on the wall and set them before her desk. “Have a seat.”

Carson and Heidi sat, and Phoebe moved around behind her desk and settled herself in her desk chair. Folding her arms before her, she looked directly at Heidi, who still hadn’t made eye contact. “Thank you for coming by.”

Heidi briefly met Phoebe’s gaze, then she looked away and shrugged.

Carson’s jaw visibly tightened, and his brow furrowed. He took a moment, then removed his hat and set it on his knee, revealing a head of closely shorn thick black wavy hair that would probably be curly if he let it grow. “We didn’t come here for your thanks.” He paused, probably for effect. “Did we, Heidi?”

“No,” Heidi mumbled, shifting on her chair.

Carson let out an impatient sigh, then turned his coffee-hued gaze on his daughter. “What did you want to say to Ms. Sellers?”

Heidi remained silent.

“Heidi?” Carson said in a stern voice. “You need to talk. And cut the rude routine.”

Heidi seemed to collapse in on herself as her narrow shoulders slumped. Tears formed in the girl’s blue eyes, and her face crumbled.

Phoebe’s heart went out to Heidi, and she looked at Carson, frowning, trying to tell him nonverbally that she didn’t like upsetting his daughter.

Reading her language perfectly, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. No go.

With effort, Phoebe hardened her heart just a bit; she would undoubtedly be helping Heidi more by not cutting her any more slack. Rough for a softie like her, but doable.

Carson focused his attention back on his daughter, who now had tears streaming down her cheeks. His gaze softened, and he reached out and rubbed her upper arm. “Heidi, I know this is hard for you, but you need to speak to Ms. Sellers.”

Heidi sobbed, her shoulders shaking, and then looked up, her eyes swimming in tears. “I’m…sorry for…what I did yesterday,” she said in a halting voice. “I know it was…wrong, and I won’t ever…do it again.”

Phoebe’s eyes watered and her throat tightened. She looked at the paperwork on her desk, trying to get control. She yanked a tissue out of the box on desk and handed it to Heidi.

Then Phoebe shifted her gaze to Carson. For just a moment, his daughter’s agony was reflected in his eyes, and he looked like a concerned dad with mushy guts, one who loved his daughter and hated upsetting her, but knew that a dad had to do what a dad had to do.

Swallowing, Phoebe said, “Thank you for your apology, Heidi, and I accept it. I know coming here wasn’t easy, and I appreciate you making the effort.”

Heidi finally looked right at her, nodding. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ve talked to Heidi,” Carson said. “And she’s aware that she will be working here after school for the next few days.” He turned to Heidi. “Right?”

She heaved out a sigh, defiance making a show. “Do I have to?”

“Yep, you do, honey,” he said firmly, but not harshly. “You do the crime, you do the time, remember?”

Heidi pursed her lips. “Dad, you’ve said that to me about a thousand times.”

“And I’ll say it a thousand more times if I need to,” he replied. Then he cracked a small, wry smile that softened the stress lines tightening his face. “Maybe even a million.” He gave Heidi a playful nudge on the shoulder. “You never know.”

To Phoebe’s relief, his comment seemed to break the ice, and the tension in the room eased a bit more.

And Carson Winters rose a notch in her eyes.

“Daaaaad,” Heidi said, wiping at her eyes with the tissue Phoebe had given her. “Don’t be so weird.”

“Who, me?” he said, his voice brimming with teasing, exaggerated innocence. Then he waggled his eyebrows and made a goofy face. “Are you sayin’ I’m a weirdo?”

Heidi’s lips curved into an itty-bitty smile. “A big one,” she said, rolling her eyes, but in what looked like a playful way.

He gave Phoebe a rueful look, shaking his head. “I’m sure I’m not the first father to be called weird, and I’m sure I won’t be the last.”

“No, I’m sure you won’t,” Phoebe replied, glad to see the stress level between father and daughter evening out. At least temporarily. “So,” she said to Heidi. “Just come here after school tomorrow, all right?”

Heidi nodded her assent, and then all three of them rose. Phoebe gestured for Heidi to precede her out, and as soon as Heidi was out of earshot, Carson snagged Phoebe’s elbow with a gentle hand.

Warmth spread in tingles up her arm as she turned a questioning gaze to him.

“Listen,” he said, “I really appreciate you working with Heidi on this.”

Up close, she saw that his brown eyes were flecked with the barest hint of gold. Fighting the urge to stare, she focused her gaze on his nose. “I sense she’s a good kid who’s had a tough time lately. As I said before, the move had to be hard on her.”

Nodding, Carson ran a hand through his hair, then put his hat back on. As he did, he said softly, “Unfortunately, there’s a lot more to it than that.”

Phoebe blinked, so surprised by his unexpected comment she wasn’t sure what to say.

At her silence, he continued on, his voice low and taut. “Heidi’s mom took off over a year ago, divorced me, and we haven’t seen her since.”

Her heart knotted. “Oh, wow, I’m so sorry.” She touched his arm briefly, trying to offer even a small amount of comfort. Obviously they’d been through the wringer. “That explains a lot.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“No, I’m glad you did.”

“I guess I just wanted you to know why Heidi is having such a rough time, and why she’s acting out. She’s not a bad kid.”

“Thank you for your honesty, and for the record, I never thought she was a bad kid.” She knew it hadn’t come easy for him to admit the truth.

“You’re welcome,” he said, looking right at her.

She met his tawny gaze, and for just a moment, she couldn’t look away, could barely even breathe. Her stomach dropped, and her legs trembled. Oh, wow. Where in the world had he gotten those unbelievable eyes…?

“C’mon, Dad. I have homework,” Heidi called impatiently, breaking the spell.

Carson looked away, clearing his throat. “Guess I gotta go.”

All Phoebe could do was nod.

She followed him out to the front of the store, her cheeks warm. Phoebe stood there for a long moment after they left, unable to forget the tears in Heidi’s eyes and the worry lines creasing Carson’s face.

Empathy gushed through her.

Granted, she wasn’t a parent, and wouldn’t presume she could give Carson much advice on that front. But she had been a twelve-year-old girl once. And even though she hadn’t been through the heartbreaking childhood trauma Heidi had, Phoebe had lost someone she’d loved fairly recently, just as Heidi had essentially lost her mom.

And Phoebe sure knew how much such a devastating loss could tear a person apart and leave them feeling as if nothing would ever be the same again.

As if their world had crumbled into a million pieces.

Maybe she could help them through their troubles in the coming weeks. Talk to Heidi, commiserate a bit. Offer a shoulder to Carson…

Horrified by her thoughts, she closed her eyes and shook her head. No. Absolutely not. What was she thinking? Getting too involved with the Winterses would be a huge mistake, and would definitely force her into a personal space she didn’t want to be in.

With that thought forefront in her mind, she straightened her shoulders and headed back to her office to return to the paperwork stacking up on her desk.

As she fired up her computer, she promised herself that she would work with Heidi because Carson had asked her to and because presenting a consequence to Heidi was the right thing to do. But after that, Phoebe would be content to say hello to them casually around town once in a while. Nothing more.

No matter how much the tension between father and daughter pulled on her heartstrings and made her want to help chase their worries away.