Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Grant
There’s no need for the way I’m stomping around the department, but it’s happening. I don’t know how to shake the sense of doom I’m feeling. And I can’t get that woman from last night, hauling her cat carrier out of her piece of trash sedan into a motel room, out of my head.
New people in Juniper View aren’t unheard of, but they’re not common in February.
It’s cold and we’re fairly isolated. It’s over an hour and a half to the nearest Target and nearly two to the main airport in Salt Lake City.
Maybe she has family here and that’ll explain it, but I can’t help thinking she’s trouble.
Or in trouble.
After busting the Patriot Ridge community last year, I’m on alert in a way I never have been before, especially after the news out of Silverton put all surrounding towns on edge.
Yes, I served in an elite unit in the military, and I saw some things, especially when we did K and R jobs. Recovering American citizens who’ve been kidnapped in some of the darker corners of the world was challenging, but rewarding. It was so clearly making a difference and the right thing.
Since accepting the role of sheriff a little over a year ago and joining the department coming up on two, I’ve had my fair share of important jobs, even in this small town.
Since the sheriff’s department is actually a county entity, we’re responsible for Juniper View and all of Peak County, which means we serve a much larger population in total than just the residents of this town.
When we busted the Patriot Ridge group for trafficking last fall but saw them weasel out of so many of the charges save for a small handful of the men, it left me feeling sick and on edge.
I’ve had this suspicion that it’s only a matter of time until they’re up and running again, and it’ll be harder to get to them this time.
From what Chief Whitacker over in Silverton said, it’s a matter of time before we see it happen again.
Especially if the women won’t talk.
I can’t tell exactly why this woman has me thinking about the PR idiots, but she’s definitely on my mental radar.
“Boss, you need a break or something? It sounds like you’re slowly transforming into a rottweiler in there.” Diego leans on the doorframe, his body swinging inside my office.
“No. But I want this oxy problem stopped and I need Jennalee Cramer to be willing to file a restraining order, and I need to find two more bodies willing to take call the first weekend in March.” I shouldn’t whine but we’re a small department and he’s not fazed.
“So that’s a no on the paranormal shift to an aggressive breed?” He looks almost sad about it.
“That’s a no.”
“You on another paranormal romance kick, Martinez?” Brian Hughes, my right-hand man, stands at the doorway looking put together and rather unlike how I feel.
His uniform is orderly, dark hair cropped close and well within regs. He’s clean-shaven and appears well-rested. He’s got a sack lunch in his hand, and I know his wife Latesha packed it for him while he got their boys dressed and before she went to work at Silverton Hospital.
They’re a team, and a good one. If I ever allowed it, I’d be jealous. Instead, I’m happy for them both, and their kids.
“That I am, Hughey, but Boss here was making a lot of animalistic noises, so what was I to believe?” Diego presses a hand to his heart.
Brian tuts. “Obviously, Ryan’s not turning into a rotty. He’d go full German shepherd if he were to shift into a canine breed. Serious, focused, loyal, a workhorse, and increasingly grumpy as he ages.”
Diego laughs at this while Brian looks on with a self-satisfied smile.
Angie Smalls raises a brow as she walks past. “I’m not touching any of that.”
Her gaze shoots to me and I appreciate the show of commiseration I get from her.
She’s one of the most seasoned among us, was here for over a decade before even Brian got started, and I’m perpetually amazed she backed me for the job I’m in instead of wanting it for herself.
Granted, her time will come with the next election, and she’ll deserve it.
Maybe because she didn’t want Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum hassling her.
“I think that’s my cue to step out and grab a coffee. I’ll be back and I want an update on your cases so we’re ready for the week. We’ve got to make some progress.” My shoulders tighten at the reminder of how much work we still have to do on things.
“You good?”
Diego has given me a salute and jogged away with his phone to his ear so it’s just me and Brian.
“Yeah. Just didn’t sleep much, but I’m good. Nothing a little espresso can’t fix.” I grab my travel mug and leave the office, Brian’s gaze following me out. He’s kind enough to wait until after my coffee to question me further, but he also knows I’m not completely full of it.
I had a crap night of sleep. I’m stressed over work, over at least two of my siblings, and will never not be worried over whether or not I’m raising the girls right.
If there’s more, I don’t need to dig into it right now. I don’t have the bandwidth.
It’s a chilly morning but the sun is burning off the worst of the cold and even the three blocks to Corner Coffee lightens my mood.
Note to self: should I take vitamin D supplements?
Do the girls need them, too? Winter in Utah can be dismal, especially if inversion sets in.
We don’t get it as bad as people at lower elevations, but shorter days and winter weather can take a toll.
Maybe all I need is some sunshine.
And caffeine, obviously.
Kids are running around the park and the seasonal ice rink will soon open up for a few hours since it’s a Saturday. Without fresh snow, there’s not as much to do outside as there sometimes is, but that means we’ll have fewer emergencies, too.
All the better to make some headway on the cases we can’t seem to close.
A few teens stumble out of the shop, high on espresso and socialization—hopefully nothing else. One pulls out a vape and puts it to his lips, but his friend yanks his arm down as he says, “Hey, Sheriff. Have a good Saturday!”
They make to run off, but I turn my head in a way that stays their movement. Both straighten, eyes wide.
“Federal and state law, boys, not to mention your overall health. Stop with the cotton candy shit and stick with the caffeine if you need a pick-me-up.” I know, I’m eloquent. Inspiring, even.
They nod furiously like it’s all there is to it, but I hold out a hand. It won’t ultimately stop them from poisoning themselves, but it might put a dent in their spending money for refills for a while.
With great regret and groaning, two vapes drop into my hand. “Good. And when your parents get a call, don’t be liars. Be honest. Be men who can accept consequences, and do better.”
With mutters of “Yes, sir” and “Of course,” they scuttle away.
I’m not excited about those phone calls, but these boys have been caught more than once, and I know them.
That’s small-town life, and it’s not always as simple as tattling on teens for harming themselves and breaking the law, but sometimes, it is. Will this stop them?
The fatalist in me says no.
The sheriff in me says it doesn’t matter—it’s still my job.
The father in me says damn, I hope so.
I watch them hop onto their bikes and ride away, then pull the knob for the shop right as someone else exits and we collide chest to chest.
Hands grip my arms and mine steady at her waist.
Her waist.
“Sorry, ma’am. I’m sorry about that.”
Her long hair slides over my arm, and I have the inane thought that it’s a beautiful, rich brown color with little wisps of highlights around her face.
Her face.
Something hits me low in the chest at the sight of it. Alarmed eyes and worry lining her forehead, but she’s so damn stunning at close range without the dim lighting or dirty window obscuring my view, I’m knocked speechless.
“I—apologize, Sheriff.” She practically jumps sideways to get away from me, scrambling down the stairs with her hands clutching a large purse. Her sweater, the same color as the one she wore yesterday, is way too light for the freezing temps today.
“My fault.” It’s all I can manage.
She doesn’t respond, just blinks and inches away.
“Did you get your tire taken care of?” I need more information here, and she’s clearly not going to give it to me.
Not a shock considering how she responded when I did the welfare check on her car, but I’d like to think I don’t seem like a complete bully in the uniform.
Granted, I also can’t erase the reality that some people have had bad experiences with law enforcement.
Sure, not all cops and all that, but… enough of them to remind me I shouldn’t be frustrated this woman doesn’t instantly trust me thanks to the badge on my left pocket.
It doesn’t automatically mean she’s got sketchy motives for being here.
“All set. Yeah, thanks.” She turns and walks.
“You sure? Usually, spares only last about fifty miles.”
She turns and squints like she’s trying to figure out why I’m still talking, then takes a hesitant step back toward me.
“I’ve driven maybe five miles so far. Should be good.”
I nod and swallow hard because my throat’s dry and I cannot stop the absolute invasion of thought telling me she is so beautiful it’s making my chest tight.
“Good. Get it changed soon.” I’m nothing if not capable of giving orders, and I default to that setting now. It’s that, or drop to my knees, I guess.
I internally scowl at the thought as she mumbles something and turns away again.
I’m being an idiot, but I shoot a hand in the air and wave even though she can’t see me as she charges down the street. “Have a good one.”
Have a good one? I order her around, clearly irritate her, and then wave at her like a besotted fool?
Yeah, it has to be the lack of sleep and coffee.
When I step inside, May is eying me, clearly having seen the entire exchange.
“Have a good one, huh? The quiet sheriff is suddenly a Chatty Cathy to the new girl?”
Behind me, my brother laughs low. Like an idiot. I don’t care how many degrees he has.
“No. I spoke with her yesterday. None of your business.”
Her brows rise on her forehead. “Interesting.”
“Not interesting,” I grumble, handing her my mug.
She must’ve seen me coming because she’s already dumping in the shots and hot water for my Americano.
“I think you’ve got a crush.”
“I’ve seen the woman twice, and only actually looked her in the face just now. How could I possibly have a crush on her already?”
She smirks. “I mean, you saw her.”
I snatch the mug from her hand and toss down cash, whirling away and shooting Declan a glare as I exit.
Yes. I saw her. But you don’t crush on someone who’s pretty but pulling at every spidey sense you’ve got that something’s off about her.
Especially if she’s just passing through.