The guy I cast as Dr. McHotFace is an actual doctor? I’d laugh if my mind didn’t slip right back to the sheriff who could’ve been an actor playing a sheriff—and we’re not thinking about him, are we?
No.
I wave at the man in greeting. “Hi.”
I am awkward as all get out and wasn’t exactly planningon meeting people today, but why not? Why shouldn’t I jump right in with both feet?
It’s a rare person who can make you feel instantly liked and accepted, and this woman has the knack. She’s got me thinking this is all so normal and not running counter to everything I’ve been thinking since the second I stepped in here.
That’s probably why I say, “That’s on my list for today, actually. I wasn’t certain when I’d arrive so I couldn’t do much pre-planning. Do you know of any good options near town?” I would love to avoid having much of a commute, if it’s possible.
Her grin stretches wide, and her bright eyes practically twinkle back at me. “I have the perfect place.”
Declan speaks up, a hand on her wrist. “I think she means she has a perfect resource for you. There’s a community board, kind of like the old want ads. I saw a few places available for immediate rent just last week, so you might have luck there.” He gives me directions to the board and I’m deeply grateful.
And yes, I’m a touch curious why May seems to be quieter, more withdrawn, like the comment dumped cold water all over her pretty braid, even though she’s nodding and smiling next to me. But so far, this day is already a win. More than I expected, really.
I used to be a Pollyanna, but I’ve had a hell of a run of bad luck. I’ve lost the ability to assume the best in people. I’m battling a voice in the back of my head that tells me these people must want something in exchange for their kindness, their suggestions, their smiles.
But there’s also a scatter of letters in my chest trying to spell out hope. They’re asking me to wait and see. It’san old reflex.
The person birthed out of the last few years knows better. She knows that hoping only leads to harm, to hurt, and the loss of that hope which is more brutal than trying for it to begin with. So those letters can stay scattered.
I promise myself I’ll do my best even still…even though I’m simply not sure I know how to anymore.
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 theright 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.
