Читать книгу Support Your Local Sheriff - Melinda Curtis - Страница 10

CHAPTER ONE

“WHAT’S THE EMERGENCY?” Sheriff Nate Landry, fresh from chasing chickens at Clara Barra’s house, took a seat on a creaky wooden pew in the back of the church. “Spring Festival meltdown?”

“The emergency is next,” Flynn Harris said in a hushed voice so as not to wake baby Ian in his arms.

Nate’s entrance met with turned heads, warm smiles and nods of recognition. The Harmony Valley Town Council was in session, better attended than some small-town basketball games. The meetings were held in the historic, steepled church downtown, being led from folding tables and chairs set up on the pulpit. That was the way of life in the remote northeastern corner of Sonoma County—casual, a bit of making do and a bit impromptu.

Flynn managed to brush reddish-brown hair from his eyes with his shoulder without disrupting his newborn’s sleep. “The emergency is Doris Schlotski.”

A little black rain cloud formed above Nate. As the only lawman in town, he prided himself on figuring out what made each resident tick. Doris Schlotski. She’d moved here four months ago and was a conundrum.

About three months ago, Nate had issued Doris citations for violating both the noise and pet ordinances. She bred Chihuahuas and her ten adult dogs barked 24/7. She’d argued that they were only small dogs and quieter than a neighbor’s Saint Bernard. A few weeks after that he’d issued her a citation for permanently parking her never-used fishing boat on the street. She’d argued that her driveway wasn’t wide enough for both her car and the boat. Just last week, he’d pulled Doris over for speeding. She’d argued that the speed limit hadn’t been updated in fifty years and was therefore invalid.

Nate was still trying to determine what made Doris tick, but he was done arguing. He bet Doris wasn’t. He bet she was here to argue about speed limits or public right-of-way or pet regulations.

Ian squirmed, rolling his head until the blue puppy blanket dropped unnoticed from his head and over Flynn’s arm.

The door behind them opened, bringing a nip of evening air. Harmony Valley was near enough to the Pacific Ocean to be cooled nightly by ocean breezes and thick fog.

Nate tucked the baby blanket snugly around the tufts of red-brown hair on Ian’s head.

Footsteps and whispers from the newcomers were covered by Mayor Larry recording a quorum on a request to rezone some property in the south part of town. The pew behind them groaned as someone sat down. At the front of the church, heads turned to see who’d entered. Inquisitive stares and nudges of neighbors followed.

Nate began to turn to see who had come in when Flynn nudged him and said, “Here we go.”

“Next on the agenda...” Mayor Larry squinted at his notes through black rectangular reading glasses. “‘Sheriff elections?’”

Abruptly, everyone faced forward, perhaps as shocked by the agenda item as Nate was.

The little black rain cloud above Nate’s head thickened. Doris wasn’t here to talk about speed limits or public right-of-way or pet regulations. She was here to talk about him!

Nate leaned closer to Flynn, keeping his voice down. “We don’t have sheriff elections.” He’d come to Harmony Valley nearly three years ago because the town was plain and simple. He’d been hired, plain and simple. He’d renewed his contract, plain and simple. Less than two hundred residents lived in town, most of them pleasant, law-abiding, elderly. Plain and simple.

At least, until Doris had returned to the area, breathing fire.

Doris approached the speaker podium like she was going to bulldoze it. She was shaped like a fireplug—short, compact, the promise of energy behind every step. Her gray hair didn’t dare curl or frizz, not even in the fog. Barely an inch long, it stood on end. She was a fireplug, all right. Only instead of spouting water, Doris spouted words. That woman could outdebate a presidential candidate.

Nate sucked back a grin. She hadn’t been able to talk her way out of those citations.

Something bumped the back of Nate’s pew just as Doris began to speak. “Mr. Mayor—”

Nate’s grin slipped free by half, poking holes in his rain cloud.

Mr. Mayor? Everyone called him Mayor Larry, at the mayor’s request. The aging hippie and tie-dye business entrepreneur was unorthodox, from his long gray ponytail to his tie-dyed attire and his penchant for naked yoga down by the river.

Doris continued to address those on the dais. “Madames Councilwomen—”

Nate’s war to contain the grin became more challenging. The three councilwomen weren’t into formalities either.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Doris continued in her high-pitched, grating voice. “We should be proud of many things in our community. The wonderful festivals we have. The resurgence of new businesses. And the low crime rate. But that isn’t good enough.”

Not good enough? The little black rain cloud sucked the oxygen from the old church.

“In this age of police misconduct, the people need a voice.” Doris had a death grip on the podium.

Nate thought it might be his death she planned.

“Can’t see,” came a little voice from behind Nate.

That innocent voice. It broke through the cloud.

Clop-clump.

It sounded like the tyke stood on the next pew back.

“That better, Juju.”

Doris wasn’t only upsetting Nate. On the pulpit, the town council murmured and shifted in their seats. Those in pews in front of Nate exchanged significant glances and whispered commentary.

“The people have a voice, Doris.” Councilwoman Agnes Villanova drew the microphone she shared with the other councilwomen closer. “Residents vote for representatives of our town. Your representatives then vote on issues of health, well-being and safety. Why, just this last year your town council hired two firefighters and renewed the sheriff’s contract.”

Short, spunky Agnes ran the town from her seat to the mayor’s right. Next to her sat Rose Cascia. Rose looked like a retired ballerina with her thin frame and her crisp white chignon. She might have pulled off New York sophistication if she didn’t tap-dance her way into rooms. At the end of the table sat Mildred Parsons. Mildred could barely see, despite her thick lenses. She was made of soft angles, from the snow-white curls in her short hair to her plump frame.

Nate loved those old ladies. They’d chase away storm clouds on a rainy day.

“Beg pardon, Madame Councilwoman.” The smirk in Doris’s voice carried to the back of the church without her having to turn around. “But I was talking about removing a layer of politics from the process.”

“A layer of politics?” Spritely Agnes had the heart of a saint and silver hair as short as Doris’s, except Agnes’s hair relaxed on her head. “Are you questioning our dedication to this town? Are you questioning our...ethics?”

The crowd murmured in disapproval. The mayor and town council had been serving for decades. They were wise. They were beloved. They always ran unopposed.

Nate drew a calming breath. Whatever agenda Doris had, the town council would thwart it.

“What I’m saying is clear enough that everyone in this room understands,” Doris said with the pomp of the self-important. “Everyone but you!”

In the midst of horrified gasps, a small hand landed on Nate’s shoulder.

“Hi.” Hot breath gusted in Nate’s ear.

Nate glanced over his shoulder into a pair of large gray eyes framed by a dark mop of hair. He’d never seen the toddler before, but the boy was cute and most likely the reason for the curious stares a few minutes ago.

Across the aisle, Old Man Takata beamed at the tyke and tapped the shoulder of his neighbor Snarky Sam, who owned the antiques/used goods store on Main Street. Sam’s smiles were rare. And yet he gave the kid a toothy grin.

The little boy touched his forehead to Nate’s and repeated, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Nate said softly, unable to resist returning the boy’s impish smile. “Be careful.”

Feminine hands curled around the boy’s torso and drew him back. Nate began to twist around to see who the hands belonged to when Flynn spoke again, halting him. “Do you think Doris would be more respectful of you if you wore a uniform?” Even in a whisper, Flynn sounded like he was enjoying this more than Nate. Of course, Flynn wasn’t the sheriff. He was part owner of a winery.

“I don’t need a uniform,” Nate whispered back, not enjoying this at all. He’d rather be chasing chickens. “I have a star on my truck and a badge in my pocket.”

Doris wasn’t the whispering type. In fact, she was practically shouting now. “I’m saying that we the people and only we the people should decide who serves our community. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck with a sheriff—” without turning, Doris pointed behind her, toward Nate “—who badgers our residents, berates citizens for their lifestyle choices and bullies the elderly with citations and tickets they can’t afford to pay!”

“Freaky,” Flynn said louder, causing the baby to stir and loosen the blanket again. “It’s like you and Doris are psychically connected. She knew exactly where you were sitting.”

“She saw me come in.” Nate could solve that mystery more easily than the one involving what made Doris so bitter. “She can’t be this upset over tickets.”

Doris held up a sheaf of papers. “I have here twenty signed reports from residents about Sheriff Landry’s behavior.”

Nate didn’t think he’d given out twenty tickets in the past year.

“Twenty reports stating that Sheriff Landry gave them warnings rather than a citation with a fee attached. Whereas I...” Doris had worked into huff-and-puff mode. “Whereas I have received three citations in the past three months! I demand we let the people decide who protects us. I demand we fire the sheriff and hold an election!” She dropped the stack of papers on the podium like a rapper dropped a mic at the end of a show. Except she kept talking. “I demand—”

“In my defense—” Nate tucked Ian’s blue blanket more securely around his tiny shoulders “—the only way to handle Doris is to give her a ticket and drive away.”

“Now, Doris...” Mayor Larry made a rare appearance in an argument. Normally, he delegated trouble to the town council so he could remain as neutral as Switzerland. “These are serious allegations. Please approach with your notes so we may look them over.”

Clod-clump. Clod-clump.

“Notes?” Doris snatched up the papers again, clutching them to her chest. “This is my evidence!”

Clod-clump. Clod-clump.

The gray-haired residents of Harmony Valley had probably never done the wave at a sports stadium. But their heads turned in the same rippled effect to stare Nate’s way, starting from the back of the church and moving forward. Grins and coos rippled through the assembled, almost as if—

The little hand returned to Nate’s shoulder, followed by a hot-breathed, “Hi.”

Another mystery solved. Residents were doing the neck-craning wave to watch an angelic toddler putting on a show behind Nate.

When Nate turned his head, he received another gentle forehead bump. “You’re an awesome little dude.” Nate ruffled the boy’s hair.

The boy’s gray eyes widened in delight. “I Duke.” He tapped his skinny chest and grinned.

The majority of the assembled chuckled. The majority being over age sixty-five and being grandparents or great-grandparents who appreciated precocious children.

Behind Nate, someone emitted a heavy sigh. Feminine hands drew the toddler out of view once more.

“For years—” Doris half glanced behind her as if sensing she was losing her audience “—you four have ruled Harmony Valley. Well, no more! The people want to be heard. The people want a say. The people want to vote for a sheriff of our own choosing!”

Nate sat back against the pew. He wasn’t the hand-shaking, promise-making, run-for-office type.

“Now, Doris...” Mayor Larry hated discord and looked as if he was ready to break Robert’s rules of order and escape out the back. He started again. “Now, Doris—”

“Don’t you Now, Doris me. I want action and I want it now!”

“She slipped up there,” Flynn noted. “She said I.”

“The people...” Doris was quick with a correction. “The people want action now!”

“I’m going to remind the speaker,” Mayor Larry said carefully. “That there is a review process written in the town bylaws—”

“By you.” Doris scoffed.

The mayor tilted his head down and stared at Doris over the rim of his rectangular readers. “Written by the town council over seventy years ago.”

“Hi!” Duke shouted, completely stealing the limelight and bringing some much-needed laughter to the proceedings.

Doris spun, so upset at being upstaged her short hair seemed to tilt forward and take aim at the upstager.

The few residents not enamored of little Duke straightened and quieted like school children caught misbehaving. The rest kept on smiling and scrunching their faces in funny ways designed to encourage the boy, not calm him down. He really was a cute kid. Not even Doris was immune to his charms. Her expression seemed to soften.

“We should wrap this up so we can all meet that adorable young man in the back.” Agnes spoke into the microphone. “These are all good points, Doris. Therefore...” Agnes waited until Doris faced her again. “I move we hold a sheriff’s election as soon as possible. Say...this week, so as not to hinder our Spring Festival plans.”

Voices disappeared beneath a rush of sound, as if Nate was passing a semitruck on the highway with his windows down. His position was an inconvenience to the Spring Festival? His livelihood? His future?

The assembled were just as shocked as Nate. The church had fallen into a stunned silence. There wasn’t so much as a peep from Doris or Duke.

During the lull, Agnes elbowed Rose.

“Uh...” Rose looked as confused as Nate felt.

Mildred, who had a slight resemblance to Mrs. Claus, pushed her thick lenses higher up her nose and sighed. “I suppose... I second?”

Anticipating peace, the mayor beamed at the council. “All in favor?”

All three town councilwomen said, “Aye.”

“Motion passed.” The mayor closed out the meeting.

“An election?” Nate’s plain and simple world was suddenly not so plain and simple.

“Don’t sweat it.” Flynn stared down at Ian with a whole lotta love in his eyes. “You signed a new contract and you’re the only qualified candidate in town. In a week, you’ll win by a landslide.”

Nate’s future was out of his control. He didn’t think he’d sleep for a week.

“I Duke.” The little dude gripped Nate’s shoulder.

The woman’s hands drew him back.

“Juju,” the boy scolded.

In the past eighteen months or so, there’d been an influx of younger residents to Harmony Valley and a baby boom. Nate turned more fully in his seat to see who held his new friend.

Familiar gray eyes collided with his.

The storm cloud returned. And flashed with lightning.

* * *

“HELLO, NATE.” JULIE SMITH put nearly three years of disdain and disappointment in those two words.

“Julie.” Nate shot to his feet, steady as always, guarded as always. If Nate was the sheriff, he was off duty. He wore a brown checkered shirt and blue jeans, not a service uniform.

Duke was balanced on her thighs, his small hard-soled sneakers digging in for purchase as he reached for Nate once more.

Couldn’t Duke loathe Nate as much as Julie did?

Couldn’t Nate look as if the past few years had been one big heartbreak?

No on both counts.

Duke’s fingers flexed as he reached for Nate.

And Nate? It was annoying how good he looked. His black hair might have been in need of a trim and his chin shadowed with stubble, but his teeth hadn’t fallen out, his broad shoulders weren’t bullet ridden and, worst of all, he didn’t look sleep deprived.

The mayor and town council were still on the pulpit surrounded by animated residents with loud voices. Chaos had arrived in Harmony Valley, just not the way Julie had envisioned it.

The man next to Nate came to his feet. He wore a wedding ring, held a swaddled newborn, had spit-up on the shoulder of his yellow polo and New Dad bags under his eyes.

Julie gave him a sympathetic smile. Duke despised naps and could be a restless sleeper at night. Not as restless as Julie lately, but still...

The man with the baby cleared his throat, shaking Nate out of tall, dark and stunned mode.

“Flynn,” Nate said. “This is Julie, my...”

And there it was. That awkwardness Julie had been waiting years for.

She pounced. “I’m the sister of Nate’s ex-fiancée.”

Flynn slid a questioning look Nate’s way.

Her moment had arrived. Julie stood, scooping Duke to her hip with her left arm. “Didn’t Nate tell you he was engaged? He left my sister at the altar.” That wasn’t all he’d left, but Julie didn’t want to waste all her ammunition on the first volley.

Flynn didn’t look as shocked as she’d hoped. She blamed Nate. He inspired loyalty wherever he went. Even after being dumped, April had forbidden Julie to confront him. But that ban had been lifted. It was open season on the sheriff.

Duke toppled forward, letting his full weight drop between Julie and Nate, unexpectedly shifting Julie’s center of gravity. She slurped in air like it came through a clogged milk shake straw. The stitches beneath her right collarbone pulled sharply, tugging at nerves that quivered up and down her neck and shoulder.

Mom was right. The doctor was right. It was too soon.

And too late to back out now.

Julie drew on years of resentment, drew Duke back and drew down her chin against the pain. She was here for justice. She was here to make Nate suffer. Surely that wouldn’t take long.

Nate hadn’t been shamed by her announcement that he’d backed out of a wedding. He didn’t scowl or frown. He didn’t put his hands on his hips and try to stare her down. She’d forgotten he was a man of few words.

Julie was itching for words. Fighting words. “My sister, April, defeated cancer and the idea that it might return gave Nate cold feet.” She glared at Nate, daring him to contradict her.

“Not exactly,” Nate said in a gruff voice, not riled enough to fully engage in battle.

“What a pleasure to see a new babe in our neck of the woods.” It was the miniature old lady from the town council, the one with the relaxed pixie-cut silver hair. She bestowed Duke and Julie with a friendly smile, and then gave Nate the kind of smile grandmothers bestowed on favored grandkids before turning to Flynn. “Can the council borrow you for an assignment?”

Flynn accepted the job and edged past Nate, who was staring at the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention.

Julie hoped April wasn’t smiling down on him. Her younger sister had always been the forgiving type.

“Who is this adorable young man?” An overly wrinkled woman with unnaturally black hair and a severe widow’s peak stood behind Julie and ruffled Duke’s hair.

“I Duke,” Julie’s nephew repeated, thrusting his shoulders back. He loved attention.

“More important, who are you?” A pale elderly woman wheeled an oxygen tank to Julie’s pew and adjusted the cannula in her nose.

“Oh, heavens, no. The important question is are you here to stay?” This from a rotund gentleman waggling a smile and bushy white brows.

At least ten elderly folk clustered around Julie’s pew, clogging the aisle. They leaned on walkers and canes and the pew itself, waiting for Julie’s answer.

“Is this how we treat visitors to Harmony Valley?” Nate asked them in a voice infused with patience.

For a moment, no one answered. And then someone said, “Yes,” which made the group laugh.

“Her name is Julie,” Nate said, still in patience mode. “And you can ask her questions some other time. Now, does everyone have a ride home?”

They dutifully nodded and pointed to their rides, or volunteered to take others home.

Amid the subsequent shuffle toward the door, Julie studied Nate some more, trying to figure out how he won everyone over.

He had that ramrod-stiff posture that signified confidence and a history of military service. His black hair was parted to the side where a cowlick prevented the hair over his forehead from lying flat. His brown eyes were serious more often than not, and when others were grinning he only allowed a half smile. He was bottled up and wound tight, keeping his emotions close to his chest. Even after he’d met April.

Which was weird. Everyone had loved April. She handed out smiles the way sample ladies handed out free food at Costco. She’d been the kid least likely to get in a fight and most likely to shed tears over sappy television commercials. She’d grown up to be a kindergarten teacher, of course. And she’d taught dance and tumbling to little ones for the recreation department. She was the opposite of Nate, who’d been a sniper in the Middle East, and Julie, who was now a sniper on Sacramento’s SWAT team.

Julie eased her aching shoulder back, ignoring the growing feeling of exhaustion. She nodded toward the podium. “Stirring up trouble, I see.”

“Trouble’s always had a way of finding me,” Nate said with a half smile.

Julie’s aim was off. Nothing was ruffling him. Nothing was satisfying her need for revenge. She’d have to hunker down for the long haul. She’d never been good at the long game, at chess or Monopoly. This time, the stakes were higher than bragging rights or a pile of paper money. This time, she had to be patient.

“Want Mama.” Duke collapsed against Julie’s shoulder, his forehead pile-driving into the only tender spot on her body.

Her sharp intake of breath caused Nate to dip his head and stare at her more closely. She smoothed her expression into her game face, determined that he only see what she wanted him to see—a strong woman who despised him.

“You got married.” Nate’s gaze was gentle.

She didn’t want his gentleness. She wanted his anger. She wanted to argue and shout and have him argue and shout back. “You think I’m married because...”

A small crease appeared between Nate’s brows, only for a moment. “Well...this little guy...”

A surge of satisfaction shored up sagging dreams of revenge. “You think a woman has to be married to have a child?”

The crease returned, deeper this time. “You’re a cop. Female cops don’t—”

“You’re a police officer?” asked the woman who’d been putting up a stink at the podium. She’d stopped at Julie’s pew. Doris didn’t smile. She didn’t coo over Duke. She eyed the pair like a cattle rancher at a bull auction.

Julie didn’t put much stock in the woman’s claims. Nate was many things, but he was a good cop. And Julie wasn’t keen on being sized up. But she wasn’t here to cause a ruckus about it either, so she said, “Yes, ma’am,” and ground her teeth at the interruption in her attempted takedown of Nate the Unflappable.

The woman stored that information with a brisk nod, and then moved toward the door.

“Mama.” Duke crooned softly.

Nate glanced around, perhaps catching on to where this was going, perhaps assessing how much privacy they had. Or how much they’d need.

The more public his humiliation, the better.

“I’m not married.” Julie’s smile felt the way it did when guys on the force made a crude remark and deserved reproach. “And Duke isn’t my child.”