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—thecar from her “daredevil rescue”—was having issues.
