Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mark had never been so distracted. Peeking in on his mom and sister, dealing with the requirements of his job, and driving the nearly two hours up to Billings so often had been taking its toll. Even with Fred Bernard now released from his cardiac ward to go heal and rehabilitate at a skilled nursing facility, Mark had still felt compelled to visit as often as he could.
Not that he regretted being there for Val. Not even a little. He couldn’t abandon her to go through all that alone. It didn’t help that the fourth had just passed. The Independence Day celebrations in Rocky Ridge were rarely disruptive other than the handful of townsfolk who sometimes mixed the colorful explosions and bad decision making.
But this year there seemed to be tons more of that than usual. Mark had been called out to serve in one way or another in double the cases of a typical year, and all the while he’d been aware that Val had been performing over in Bigfork, in the eastern section of the state. She’d remained in Montana, but the distance between the two places was still a four-hour trip by car, which meant he’d still be closer to Fred if some sort of emergency cropped up.
Then, to have such a wild holiday with the locals had put Mark on edge. He hadn’t been getting much sleep to begin with, but due to receiving calls at all hours, last night he’d gotten zero. He enjoyed celebrating as much as anyone, but he’d never felt so glad to put a fourth of July behind him as he had this time. The problem was that he had a whole other dayshift to go before he could go home and catch some Zs, and he’d been yawning more than a sleepy cat.
He’d nearly dozed off twice behind the wheel this morning, and that was unacceptable. He took pride in serving as the best example of driving—that was something his dad had imparted to him as a teenager—and respected that those who enforce the laws also need to not only abide by them but do so to the letter. Mark would never abuse his power by speeding and running signs unless it was absolutely necessary.
So, he took another deep swig of his coffee, a brew that he’d had Daniel down at Mountaintop Java add not one, not two, but three shots of espresso to. Then, he wended his way over to his next stop, a residence where he needed to deliver a court summons.
This one wasn’t too serious. A required appearance to deal with a series of parking tickets that hadn’t yet been paid. Worse case, the person would have to cover a fine that included all the unpaid charges. On autopilot, he drove to the address in question, one of the ritziest parts of town.
The neighborhood, despite being within the city limits, was known for its upscale homes and land. Even the horse barn visible from the road looked fancier than a lot of the residences people actually lived in. This property, hemmed in by rather pristine white wooden fencing, sat at the top of a hill and was surprisingly quiet and peaceful. So quiet and peaceful that as Mark surveyed it, he hesitated to turn into the long drive.
Instead, he remained there behind his wheel to scan over the landscape. He needed to gather himself for a minute. Even with all the additional caffeine, Mark felt so worn out he could barely function.
Next thing he knew, he was startled awake by a motorcycle roaring by.
Jerking upright—he’d slumped sideways over his center console—he took in his surroundings. Rarely did he have cause to be here in the place where the locals considered all the prosperous people to live. Thankfully, the sealed manila packet remained in his passenger’s seat, the official summons still intact.
Mark glanced at the address again, for the first time bothering to pay attention to the name listed. Nova Jethro. Whoa. This summons was for Nova Jethro, one of the descendants of Rocky Ridge’s founder. No wonder he’d had to go to this neighborhood. Her family was one of the few that lived in such a posh locale.
How had he missed noting his precise location?
That wasn’t the only scary thing. Mark had been so out of he’d also left his engine running here on the street next to the turn-in for their estate. And according to the clock on his dash, he’d been offline for a full twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of sleeping on the clock. What had he been thinking?
Horrified at his lapse and praying that no one had noticed this egregious drop of the proverbial ball, he wiped a palm over his features, hoping no overt evidence of his naptime showed.
Then, after repositioning his cowboy hat so that it sat low on his forehead—and with any luck, also hid the puffy dark circles under his eyes—he drove up the driveway. The entry, of course, ended up being on those wide double doors with a chiming doorbell. He pressed it, and after seconds, someone came over the security camera’s speaker.
“Yes?”
“This is Sheriff Mark Talbot. I need to speak with Nova Jethro.” He heard nothing for several heartbeats.
“One moment please.”
A stately woman Mark recognized as Annabeth Jethro appeared, her face a perfect mask of politeness and her iron gray hair cut into a dignified shoulder length style. “May I ask what this is about, sheriff?”
“Unfortunately, no. I have a delivery, but it must go directly to Nova.”
Annabeth’s features didn’t alter one bit. It was like conversing with a porcelain sculpture. “My granddaughter should be arriving soon.”
Mark nodded, remaining at his place at the threshold. Annabeth didn’t offer to let him in, and he didn’t request the additional favor, either. A young woman with hair that was a combination of ruby red and sunset orange arrived—colors too vivid to result from anything but a bottle or a salon—looking carefree and breezy. He disliked having to ruin her day, but the law was the law no matter what your last name happened to be.
“Nova?” he still asked. He’d never met her and needed to be sure.
“Yes.”
He handed over the envelope. “This is a court summons. You’ve now been served.”
The first proof that Annabeth wasn’t some serene wax figurine appeared in the shape of her narrowed gaze and pursed mouth.
“Served?” She turned to her granddaughter, her tone imperious. But Mark had no desire to be privy to whatever might be forthcoming.
“Ladies.” He tipped his hat and turned to leave. He’d done his duty, and right now didn’t have the bandwidth to handle anything else.
The way things had been going, he half expected Annabeth or Nova to call him back, but thankfully, they didn’t. The entry closed, and Mark marched straight to his vehicle and slipped inside. But he didn’t release a relieved breath until he was no longer in sight of those double doors.
He felt stretched so thin. Mark had gone through challenges prior to this, but not quite to this degree of difficulty. Well, nothing had been worse than losing his dad in such an abrupt and anguishing way, but that had been different. He’d been a teenager with a teenage boy’s fancy-free dreams, not an elected official responsible for an entire town.
Never had the weight of his obligations bowed his back more than right now.
Grimacing into his rearview mirror, he wondered if this was what failing felt like. He knew he’d been doing a subpar job at basically everything. How did people keep all these pans on the fire without burning anything?
His phone rang with Rusty’s number, and maybe because of the exhaustion dogging him, Mark didn’t bother to answer with his usual polite greeting.
“What is it, Rusty?”
“Suspicious plate heading in your direction, sending a text with it now.”
“If you could’ve just sent a text in the first place, why’d you call?” he snapped, and there was a weighty pause on the opposite end of the line.
“What’s eating you?”
Mark almost mouthed off with an immature, “You are,” but caught himself before the idiotic language could leave his mouth. He was losing it big time, and his friend hadn’t earned any of this.
“Sorry,” he blew out a breath. “Rough day.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“I think you should.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve never had such an extreme reaction to a routine call since I’ve known you. If it’s this bad, you need to get it out.”
The ironic part was that the news wasn’t bad. It was good. Confusing sometimes, but mostly good.
“You know about Ulysses Biggs, right?”
“Yeah. He being a thorn in your side?”
“More that could his behavior is highly peculiar.” Mark related the cancellation incident in Bozeman. It’d been recent, but it felt like it happened ages ago. Time kept passing in these irregular spurts, normal and then at light speed. “I don’t get what he was trying to accomplish or what his endgame could then be.”
“Definitely off-the-wall.”
“Then there’s the person I met the same night I ran into him. A woman.”
“She trouble?”
For the first time, Mark grinned to himself. Oh, she was trouble, all right. “Not like you mean. We’re kind of… hanging out.”
The pause was longer this time. “Hanging out…” Rusty stretched out the words like he might to a non-native English speaker. “Why am I getting the feeling that your version of hanging out has little to do with this case?”
“It did start with the case,” Mark clarified. “But lately, well, other stuff has been going on.” This time, he told his friend about Val’s dad. “She needs me, so I’ve been making myself available. Only when I’m with her, I feel things I’ve never felt before. Chemistry.”
He thought about their almost kiss but didn’t tell the other sheriff about it. Some things were meant to stay sacred and private.
“You catching emotions for this woman?” Rusty asked him pointblank, coming right out with it.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I hate when I have to leave her, and I think about her a lot when we’re separated. If that’s what you mean by ‘catching emotions.’ I mean, we have this intense connection. She’s gorgeous, too. Like could be a model gorgeous. And she’s caring toward her dad and employees. She’s been through a bunch with this Biggs jerk. I wish I could help her more. Be there with her more.”
A chuckle reverberated from his friend’s side of the line. “Sounds like you’re not being all that bright.”
Insulted, Mark clapped back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re past the point of no return. Don’t pass go, don’t collect your two hundred dollars. She’s already captured you hook, line, and sinker.”
Truly baffled now, he growled into his phone. “What are you talking about, Shackleton?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you’re all gaga over this woman. Your mom and sister would say that you’re in love with her.”
At those words, Mark went as still as a statue. His intestines twisted inside him with nervousness as he processed his friend’s assumption. Not because Rusty was wrong, either. But because he was right .
In fact, he was dead on. And Mark had no clue what to do with that information. Neither he nor Val were in a place where they could make a go at a traditional relationship. Not while their paths were focused in such distinctly different directions.
How had he fallen for a woman who travels more weeks of the year than she’s home while every aspect of his own career was right here in Rocky Ridge? Talk about not having the same goals. And sure, they each watched over their families and provided for them, but those families were over two hours apart.
Mark wasn’t even certain how he could be feeling like this, considering how seldom they’ve been able to be together. But he did feel that way. Now he had to determine if he should ever relate that fact to Val or suffer in silence. What if she didn’t return those feelings? What then?
The logical side of his brain liked that idea. If that was the case, everything could go back to normal. But the illogical side—the side that had admitted to a craving to sock Biggs in his pathetic jaw—balked at such a notion. That side wanted to be with Val, no matter what it might take for him and Val to become more.
Mark bounced so many scenarios and outcomes through his head that he nearly forgot he was still on the phone.
“You could try long distance,” Rusty advised. “People do it all the time.”
“How many of those people are successful in the long run, though?”
“Eh, the odds aren’t exactly in your favor, but what else can you do?”
That was just it. Other than cutting off ties, Mark didn’t know. Cutting off ties wouldn’t be advisable with Biggs trying to stick his nose in her business, too. The man had proven himself to be a windbag, but Mark didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him.
Biggs’ behavior seemed more than suspect.
Sneaking around behind her back to cancel shows and appearing at her trailer months after she fired him. Acting the fool to the point that security got involved. None of that boded well. Also, the concept of splitting up with Val just as Mark was getting to know her made him want to kick something. And he could acknowledge that as absurd because, technically, they weren’t even together. At least, not formally.
They hadn’t even kissed.
How had he sunk his boots into this kind of mess? Especially before he realized how far in he was? Because Mark knew he was in this thing with Val, about whatever it might be and however far it might eventually go. He frowned to himself. Or not go.
Mark knew only thing for sure.
He needed to have a proper discussion with Val about this.