Chapter Twenty-Four
JJ
Due Diligence: the investigation of an organization or financial opportunity prior to the consummation of an agreement.
For neither thefirst nor the last time, I seriously contemplated running through a damn wall to stop Brooke from strutting out of my tavern with my balls in her back pocket. It wasn't about the balls. Goddamn, she could keep them if it meant I could keep her long enough to unravel the issues tying her in knots today.
"Harniczek. A moment, please."
"For fuck's sake, sheriff, why are you here?" I shouted, dragging my gaze away from the door and settling it on Jackson Lau. "In case you didn't notice, I just had a moment. I don't have one for you too."
Laughing, he dropped into a seat at the bar. "I have to admit I'm somewhat afraid of Miss Markham. I can't help but believe she'd reach into my belly and tear out my liver if I crossed her."
"You best believe she will."
"She might scare me, but you should know I won't stand for anyone screwing her over," he said.
Well, that was unnecessary. "It's funny you say that," I started, "because no one screws Brooke over. She can spot that shit from a mile away and she screws back a hundred times as hard. But it's not Brooke you're worried about here. It's me." When he responded with nothing more than his usual cool stare, I continued. "I don't dick women over, sheriff. Not my style."
"Then we won't have a problem," he answered.
That was really unnecessary.
Out of the fucking blue, Jackson said, "I've kept an extra set of patrols on the Markham estate since last summer. Every four to six hours, just to keep an eye on things." He gave me a meaningful nod. "If there's a need for Dr. Gwynn to make another house call during a blizzard, I expect you'll let one of my deputies escort her."
Without fail, the most annoying portion of the sheriff's lectures was when I realized we were on the same team. "Will do."
"The white-out conditions aside, I'm pleased the good doctor was on hand to assist when Brooke needed it. Not that Brooke would ever admit to needing help."
Instead of taking that bait, I grabbed a set of glasses, filled one with iced tea and the other with club soda. "To women."
Jackson tapped his glass against mine. "And their red flags."
"And the bulls who love them," I added.
"Too right," he murmured into his tea.
I drained the club soda in two gulps and went back to the taps for a refill. "Now, what the hell are you doing here? Did you miss lunch again?"
He waved me off, saying, "I'm curious about Nate's progress and whether you've noticed any signs of relapse. His probation officer sent a glowing report last week, raving about him meeting all the terms of his probation. I share that enthusiasm, but I know the realities of addiction. I want to hear your take."
I didn't care whether we were on the same team. I didn't have any patience for this shit. "You want my take, sheriff? Here it is. I believe in the kid and I believe in second chances. Third, fourth, fifth chances too. People can fuck up. People can do terrible things. And they can learn from them. No one should be thrown away or erased simply because they did the wrong thing. I don't care if they did the wrong thing foryears. The minute they decide to turn it around, I'm gonna let them." I tossed a lime wedge into my glass with enough force to send half the liquid sloshing over the sides. "He didn't kill anyone, he didn't maim anyone. He harmed himself. Sure, he stole from his family. He hurt his relationship with his parents in ways that won't easily mend. But he's still alive and so are they. He gets another chance, and if he relapses, he gets another one after that."
Jackson regarded me for a moment and then said, "All right. I also have concerns about Bobbie Lincoln. He keeps drinking himself into trouble. Wandering down dark roads at night where he's bound to get hit by a car. Arguing with everyone who crosses his path. We're called out to that house at least once a month."
"It's not as simple as him drinking himself into trouble," I replied. "There's more to the story than you think."
He knocked his knuckles against the bar top. "That's why I'm here, Harniczek. Tell me the story. Let me help from my side while you help from yours."
"If you're looking for a buddy cop setup, you should know I'm not one for team sports."
"You make it sound like that should surprise me," he quipped.
I poured more iced tea into his glass. "When did you get a sense of humor?"
"It was probably around the same time you took up team sports with Miss Markham," he replied.
"Since that's a fully unacceptable line of discussion, let's get back to Bobbie Lincoln. All I can tell you is he's sorting through some issues. There's the unhappy marriage, the job that sucks the life out of him every day, the elderly mother-in-law who invited herself to move in a couple years back." I lifted my glass, motioned toward him with it before taking a sip. "I don't think the guy should be drinking it away to the point of walking in traffic but you can't fault him for bellying up to the bar if for no other reason than getting out of the house."
