Against the Clock (Small Town Last Stand #3)

Chapter One

Rose Little didn’t want to talk about it. No way, no how. She wanted to stay tight-lipped, closemouthed, quiet as a mouse.

The man, wearing a nice button-up shirt with a skinny tie and holding a business card he was trying to Houdini into her hand, was begging that she do the opposite.

“We don’t mind paying for the story,” he said, not for the first time since he had met her outside the coffee shop. “We just want an exclusive so it can reach more people. Don’t you want to share your good deed with the world?”

Rose didn’t know which annoyed her more: the reporter trying to cash in on her two minutes of fame or the fact that he’d chosen to do so on her off day.

Normally she would be wearing her deputy’s uniform and her McCoy County Sheriff’s Department badge but right now she had on a good pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt that was multicolored, faded and always comfortable despite outside annoyances.

Off days were rare for a department so small. They were even more rare for the smallest of that small.

Rose loved her work.

She just wasn’t a fan of bragging about it.

“Doing a good deed is enough for me,” she said, stepping around him on the sidewalk. Her car was in the lot behind the business complex. It seemed that the reporter didn’t mind the extra few yards to it. He got into line next to her, unfazed.

“Oh, of course, of course,” he said. “I’m not trying to say you did it for the fame or anything, I’m just saying that this is truly inspiring and a really good comment on courage in the face of danger. It’s not about you getting recognition, it’s about creating hope for others.”

Rose was the first person to admit that her last name was unfortunately a very accurate description of her physically.

Rose Little was petite. Only an inch over five feet, she could put on a Halloween costume and go trick-or-treating as a child without anyone suspecting she was actually a thirty-two-year-old woman.

Most times it didn’t bother her—she had spent years becoming mighty despite her size—but walking alongside the reporter, she found their height difference to be annoying. She wanted to frighten him away with what her colleagues at the sheriff’s department called her scary eyes.

Green little daggers that let whoever was on the receiving end of them know that they had managed to get on the diminishing side of her patience.

But Rose couldn’t do that to this man. Not only did he keep his attention ahead of them, he was a full foot or so above her. She would have to grab him by the collar and pull down to really level him out.

And she had a feeling Sheriff Weaver wouldn’t be a fan of that.

So, she settled for a verbal attack. Passive but pointed.

“I don’t see how what I did would inspire hope for others. Not many people find themselves trapped in that kind of situation every day.”

The man rounded the street corner with her.

He was shaking his head.

“The point isn’t the people, it’s you,” he said.

“Not many people would have risked their lives like that. You were a hero, saving the day by yourself and doing it like you were in an action movie. I mean, you’ve seen the video, right?

It went viral for a reason. The entire country is talking about—”

Rose could see her car in the distance. She didn’t want to see the man anymore.

“Listen—” she stopped to face him “—I get that this is your job and that there’s a lot of people who might eat a story like me up even though it’s been months, but I don’t want to make this a big deal.

Because it wasn’t, really. I didn’t do it for fame or fortune or comments.

I did it because it needed to be done. So it was nice to stroll with you, but this is where that ends. ”

Rose wasn’t entirely heartless. She’d been born and raised in Seven Roads, Georgia, and had spent a majority of her life in most of the same spots since.

She knew there was a Southern etiquette, and she tried to practice some with the reporter to help the rejection go down easier.

So she held out her hand for a shake, thinking that was it.

The man took her hand, only to push forward his own agenda.

She felt the business card against her palm before she could stop him.

He smiled big, taking the rejection with stride.

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind,” he said. “And when you do, call me at this number.”

Rose watched as the man retreated as fast as he had popped up. It left her a little dumbfounded. She had expected a lot more buzzing. She slipped his card into her pocket—she wasn’t going to litter—and went to her car, glad for one less annoyance for the day.

That lack of annoyance didn’t last long.

Her car started lurching and the check engine light went on before she could make it back to the house. Rose was glad it had at least waited to act up when the reporter wasn’t around. He would have no doubt eaten it up had he seen her car—the car from her “daredevil rescue”—was having issues.

“There’s no way I’m letting anyone get wind of this,” she told herself aloud.

She patted the dashboard. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you fixed, keep avoiding reporters, and eventually everything will die back down.

They’ll find another story more exciting than me, and we can keep on living our lives without the world caring. ”

The car didn’t talk back but it did shudder here and there as she changed direction toward the only mechanic in town.

Rose didn’t blame it one bit.

She should have taken it to the shop after everything had happened.

However, life had become…a lot after what she had done. Not just from reporters. The town of Seven Roads held gossip longer than grudges. Five months later, she still was stopped on occasion at the grocery store to chat about it.

Sure, Rose could admit what she had done was a little more than what some might have. And yeah, she had potentially saved several people by putting her own life on the line.

But…she hadn’t been able to save everyone.

It was a fact that so many seemed to gloss over from the word jump.

Rose’s hand tightened around the steering wheel.

She knew the truth, no matter how indifferent the rest of the world seemed to be about it.

A world hadn’t ended with a bang but a whimper.

And she seemed to be the only one who had remembered the sound.

Now all she could do was hope for the quiet again.

* * *

JAMES KELLER WAS having a pretty decent day so far.

The old Maxima he had been having trouble with was done, fixed, paid for and gone. The same went for the engine issues with an even older Buick and Mrs. Jones’s usual oil change and tire rotation. James had even dealt with Mr. Donahue’s impromptu drop-in for a stay-and-chat session.

He had updated James on the neighborhood’s latest news, given his opinion on his grandkids’ current obsessions, and gone as far as to bring up his recently divorced daughter Layla again.

“Now that she’s dropped that baggage of that sorry husband of hers, I’m ready for her to get a nice, good guy who knows value when he sees it.” Mr. Donahue had given a pointed look over to James at this. “Someone who runs their own business because he’s a good son and an even harder worker.”

James had nodded along with the sentiment but hadn’t taken the bait.

While he did indeed run Keller Auto, the only mechanic shop in Seven Roads, to help his father, he didn’t want that, his work ethic, or Mr. Donahue to be why he reentered the dating pool.

He had exited it for good reason two years beforehand and wasn’t sure dating or marriage was in the cards in his immediate future.

Something he had told the older man a few times before.

But, as with a lot of folks in Seven Roads, James’s thoughts on the subject didn’t seem to matter much.

So, getting Mr. Donahue to leave the shop without much fuss had been a feat. One that, along with his shrinking to-do list, had contributed to his good mood.

A good mood that was still holding in place when an unscheduled job drove up into the dirt lot that surrounded Keller Auto.

A good mood that stayed mostly strong when he realized who was behind the wheel.

A good mood that only slightly wavered when the driver got out with an expression that looked ready to turn everyone else to stone.

Deputy Rose Little, the wild card of Seven Roads, walked up to James in the garage bay with absolute purpose. Her small frame was an odd contrast to the set of her brow and gaze. James wasn’t a longtime local, but he had been told quickly that Rose wasn’t someone you could judge by appearances.

And that was before what had happened outside of the hospital’s research annex a few months ago.

James reined in the urge to think Rose looked particularly cute today, with her dark hair done up messy and wearing a fluffy, colorful sweater, and instead put down his notebook to greet her.

Or, rather, listen to the greeting she threw his way.

“I would have called but my car started struggling a few minutes ago. The engine light came on too. I thought it would be easier to just drive it here while I still could.” She thumbed over her shoulder back at her car. “Do you have time to look at it?”

As far as James knew, Rose didn’t exactly know him. He’d never had a chance or need to talk to the deputy before. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know of her tendency to rush in first, ask questions later. The hospital annex situation was the most sensational story yet.

Not that it was just some story. One of the people she had saved had recorded the whole event and posted it online. Then it had gone viral.

Some worshipped her, some praised her simply. A spare few blamed her. Some said she had done too much in an attempt to get some attention.

James knew of Rose—not who she really was—but he doubted her heroics had been for glory.

Rose Little had rescued a busload of people from a terrifying death, all while narrowly avoiding the exact same fate. James had watched the video too—who hadn’t in Seven Roads?—and didn’t need to have been there in person to understand just how close she had come to losing her life.

If she had done that for fame and glory only?

Well, then she probably would have greeted him with her name first, her problem second. As it was, she was standing there looking expectantly at him with a small scowl across her face.

James wiped his hands on his coveralls from habit and nodded.

“As it happens, I’m having a light day, so I can take a look now.” He gestured toward the open bay behind him. “Drive it in and I can get started.”

Rose gave one curt nod and did as she was told.

James watched, noting the car drove okay, but there was a sound he couldn’t place as it moved. He was running through the possibilities when Rose appeared at his side. She explained what had happened and did a brief rundown of the car’s history.

It was an older model but had been mostly rebuilt by her over the years.

Which told James that what she had done during her rescue hadn’t just been luck.

She was good with cars.

“My dad was in a wheelchair a lot when I was a kid, so I became the one in charge in our family for everything car-related since middle school,” she said, as if hearing his thoughts.

“Whatever is tripping this thing up, it wasn’t because of an error on my part at home.

There shouldn’t be any problems on the maintenance side. ”

James eyed the tires.

She must not have missed the move. She sighed.

“The tires have recently been replaced,” was all she said.

If she was expecting him to ask about the research annex, she didn’t show it. James respected that. He didn’t bring up anything to do with her job and instead focused on his.

“You can wait in the main building while I take a look if you want,” he offered, grabbing a light. When she didn’t budge, he added, “Or you can hover here.”

He worried it sounded snarky the second he said it, but Rose didn’t take it the wrong way. She nodded and stayed put.

If she had been an attention seeker, he thought that would extend to him. Talking his ear off, regaling him with her own glory. As it was, he forgot she was there at all until a few minutes later into his check.

“Do you have a maintenance record?” he asked. “Or did you do most of it yourself?”

At this, her resting scowl woke up.

“I did the maintenance I could myself but kept records for both my own work and when I had to get a new transmission put in out of town once. The records for both are in the glove compartment. I also have a running log I keep at home if that doesn’t work for you.”

James raised his hands in defense.

“I’m sure what you have is fine.” He had been at the hood but now moved around to the passenger’s-side door. He opened it and leaned over for the glove box.

This was a move he had done countless times in his career.

Lean over, reach for the glove compartment handle, open and take out what he needed. All while never even touching the seat.

But, for whatever reason, James did something slightly different this time.

He sat down on the seat before reaching out.

That was where he messed up.

That was where their problems began.

Because no sooner had he lowered his weight onto the fabric than three things happened almost at the exact same time.

There was a click sound.

Followed almost immediately by the feeling of something shifting below him.

Then, as his brain and body both processed what he was hearing and feeling, the third thing happened a breath later.

Rose Little grabbed his wrist and, despite her small size, she said something in a voice so commanding and quick that James couldn’t help but listen with every fiber of his being.

“Don’t move a muscle.”