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“Of course, I had to stop.” Nate was yelling. He never yelled. Blame it on the night he’d had. “You’re walking around in your bathrobe and slippers.”
Policing Harmony Valley wasn’t about controlling crime. It was about keeping the peace. And peace required patience. The patience Nate usually had in deep reserve was at drought levels.
“I can’t do it, Sheriff.” Terrance’s breath hitched and his shoulders shook. His elongated facial features were accented by sad salt-and-pepper brows and sparse chin stubble. “I can’t go to sleep without Robin in bed with me.”
Nate heaved a sigh. Terrance had recently lost his wife of fifty years.
But this was the third time in a month he’d found Terrance walking around in his pajamas. The old man had been watching the sun rise from the top of Parish Hill when Nate drove by to check on reports of gunshots. He’d been watching the river pass by from the Harmony Valley bridge during Nate’s morning jog. And now...
A porch light came on at the house on the corner.
If anyone saw Terrance in his pj’s, Nate would have to do more than chastise him and make sure he got home safe. Doris would want him to issue a citation for indecent exposure. Agnes would want him to take Terrance to the hospital for observation, which might result in pills being prescribed. Pills Terrance wouldn’t take, because the antidepressants and sleeping pills his doctor had given him after Robin’s death sat unused in his medicine cabinet.
“Get in the truck and I’ll drive you home.” He’d get the older man something to eat and stay at his place until Terrance dozed off.
Terrance shook his head in a trembly fashion. The robe was worn and did little to keep out the cold. He was shivering all over.
Nate stood between Terrance and the porch, hopefully blocking the view of anyone peering out the front window. He swept Terrance toward the truck with both hands. “If you’re going to walk, you need to walk with all your clothes on.”
Except to shiver, Terrance didn’t budge. “I’m dressed for bed because I try to sleep and I can’t.” The mournful sound in his voice echoed on the empty street. “I always thought I’d go first. I should have spoiled her more. I should have told her I loved her more. I should have—”
“Get in the truck.” Nate closed in. “Turn those bunny slippers around and get in.”
“Are you arresting me?” Even the bunny ears seemed to be shivering now. “More important, are you making fun of Robin’s slippers?”
He was. Some levity was called for, otherwise he’d never get Terrance off the street. Nate put his hands on the older man’s shoulders and gently turned him around. “You’re telling me your feet are the same size as Robin’s?”
“Robin had long, elegant feet.” Salt-and-pepper brows dive-bombed blue eyes as he stared at Nate over his shoulder. “I feel closer to her when I wear her slippers.”
Locks turned in the door behind them. Out of time, Nate hustled Terrance into the truck.
“Sheriff? Is that you?” Lilac Miller wore a pink silk bathrobe, heels and what looked like a shower cap.
“Yes, ma’am.” Nate walked in front of the headlights so she could see him. “Sorry about the noise. A cat ran out in front of me.” He got in the truck, hoping Lilac hadn’t seen his passenger.
“I saw Lilac driving Doris to the market this morning out by the highway.” Terrance’s knobby knees bumped against the old metal dash.
Nate bit back a curse, adding Lilac to his to-do list tomorrow. She was dangerous on the road, and had promised him she wouldn’t drive unless it was an emergency. “Thanks for telling me.”
Terrance squirmed in his seat. “Should I mention I was walking in my bathrobe and bunny slippers?”
“Only if you want to spend a night in jail under my supervision.”
* * *
JULIE’S BREATH SOUNDED HOLLOW. Her throat felt dry.
Someone had thrown a smoke grenade. Despite the mask, Julie couldn’t breathe. Visibility in the house was like a midnight-thick fog in San Francisco.
A woman appeared before her, holding a baby and a weapon. The assault rifle was trained on Julie.
Julie tried to shout a warning to the officers behind her.
Too late. The woman’s finger squeezed the trigger.
Julie fired.
She couldn’t see. She didn’t know...
Her breath rasped. Her throat burned.
The woman closed the distance between them, pressing the muzzle of her gun into Julie’s shoulder. Julie wanted to run, but her legs were sinking into the floor.
Crying out, Julie fired again. Suddenly, it was April who held her. April, who crumpled to the linoleum, her mouth moving as she tried to speak one word: forgive.
Julie sat up, shaking and sweating. She’d fallen asleep on the floor of the bed-and-breakfast. The lights were still on, but the chill of the evening had seeped into the room. Into her.
Helpless. She felt so helpless. And sleep deprived. She hadn’t been able to sleep properly since she’d been released from the hospital. Not since she’d stopped taking the pain pills. But if she took them she couldn’t drive or care for Duke.
It took several minutes for the shakes to subside. Several more for her to trust her legs to hold her.
But peace of mind? That remained elusive.
* * *
“JUJU.” A WHISPER. A tug on the quilt.
Julie cracked her eyes open. She felt like sun-dried roadkill. Her eyes were gritty. Her mouth dry. And her head...it felt as if her skull had been stuffed with heavy mountain clay. She wanted to roll over and stay beneath the covers.
But there was her nephew. His black hair in a rumpled half Mohawk and his mouth set in his welcome-to-morning grumpy line.
Cheerful. She had to channel April and be cheerful. “Want to snuggle, little man?”
“No. Want milk.” He tugged harder on the quilt. “Juju.”
Julie squinted at her watch. It was seven thirty, late for Duke. “Okay. Okay.” She ran through the list. Shower. Clean teeth. Clean diaper. Clean dressing. Clean clothes. Could she distract a two-year-old for an hour until Leona’s official breakfast time?
“Juju!”
“Okay, I’m moving.” Julie folded her right arm to her chest and rolled slowly to an upright position. Duke didn’t look any better when she was upright. He was still rumpled and grumpy. She caught her reflection in the mirror hanging above the desk. She didn’t look much better. She looked ready to audition for a role as a zombie—dark circles under her eyes, hollow cheeks, hair in loopy tangles. “I hope we see Leona on the way to the bathroom. She could use a good scare.”
Thirty minutes later, Julie and Duke were dressed in jeans, sneakers and thick black hoodies. She carried a backpack with toddler supplies and the custody contract she wanted Nate to sign. He’d thrown her a curveball last night by not rejecting Duke outright. In all the years she’d known him, he’d always said he didn’t want kids. He couldn’t change his mind now. She wouldn’t let him. If he didn’t sign today, she’d put the Daddy Test into play.
“Me walk. Me walk.” Duke ran to the staircase.
“Wait.” Julie dashed after him, juggling the backpack and the umbrella stroller. “Hold my hand.”
Together, they took the stairs one at a time. When they reached the foyer, they peeked into the empty living room. Sunlight streamed across the antique wood-trimmed couch, a delicate coffee table, a Boston fern and the antique rocking horse. The wood floors gleamed. There wasn’t a dust mote in sight.
“Breakfast is at eight thirty,” Reggie said cheerfully from the dining room. “There’s coffee, milk and juice on the sideboard.”
“Milk would be fantastic.” Julie tugged Duke’s blue sippy cup from her backpack.
“Why do you say breakfast is at eight thirty, Regina, when you don’t mean it?” Leona stood at the end of the foyer beneath the stairs. Dark green sheath, low black heels, pearls at her neck, hands clasped at her waist and looking as if she didn’t want to let on she smelled something unpleasant.
Julie gave a tentative sniff to make sure Duke wasn’t fragrant—he wasn’t—before slipping into the dining room to fill Duke’s cup.
“It’s hard to believe Grandmother’s first review of the bed-and-breakfast was positive,” Reggie deadpanned, wiping the dining room table as if she only had a few seconds left to clean. “Customer service isn’t her forte.”
“Chad Healy appreciates good repartee.” Leona entered the dining room, stiff as starch. “The art of conversation is dying, being replaced by the Twitter and those hashtags you always mumble about.”
Reggie stopped cleaning and grinned, a real, live, genuine smile directed at her grandmother. “Did you joke with your father when the telegraph became obsolete?”
Leona didn’t answer, but the corner of her lip twitched. Those two may go at it, but they clearly enjoyed their banter.
“How about Great-Grandpa’s horse and buggy?” Reggie leaned on the table, coming in for the proverbial kill, her tone gleeful. “His gas lamps? His...” She faltered and glanced at Julie for help.
“Uh...” Julie drew a blank, having been tag-teamed before she knew she was part of Reggie’s team.
“You petty.” Duke grinned up at Leona. He wrapped his arms around her spindly leg and gave her a hug.
Leona stared down at Duke. Almost of its own volition, her hand drifted to the top of his head and gave him a pat.
Duke released her, still grinning. “Petty you.” He reached out and patted her bottom. And then he caught sight of his sippy cup and ran to Julie. “Milk!”
Leona’s cheeks were redder than a ripe strawberry. She walked woodenly out of the room.
“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.” Reggie stared at Duke in awe. “The Ice Queen melted. Honestly, I don’t think she touched me when I was growing up.”
Julie felt compelled to come to Leona’s defense. “I’m sure she must have—”
“Nope.” Reggie shook her head. “She was... Well, that’s not important. It’s been a challenge being here and your son gave me hope.” Reggie turned mahogany eyes filled with tears Julie’s way. “Thank you.”
A man appeared in the dining room doorway. “Am I too early for breakfast?”
“No.” Reggie clutched her cleaning rag. “Not at all. I just need to put it in the oven and...” She composed herself. “Why don’t you have a cup of coffee while you wait? Get to know our other guests and...make yourself at home.”
Julie sighed. A cup of coffee sounded like heaven.
Duke stopped sucking down milk and tugged on the umbrella stroller. “Out, Juju. Go out.”
“Can’t I have my coffee first?” Julie’s gaze drifted to the stack of mugs by the coffee carafe.
“Peeeeeze.” Duke hugged Julie’s leg and gazed up at her with April’s gray eyes. “Go peeze.”
Julie was a sucker for that sweet face. A cup of coffee would have to wait. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She’d take Nate up on his offer of breakfast. She’d start him on the Daddy Test. That’d make him squirm. The idea perked her up.
A few minutes later, having made her apologies to the other guest, Julie pushed Duke through the foggy streets toward the town square in a blue umbrella stroller. For being two, Duke was a solid kid. Pushing him wasn’t easy. Back in the day, as an older sister, she’d pushed April in her stroller. She’d whined, of course.
“People like you and me have to take care of others,” Dad had said in response to her complaints. As a highway patrolman, he’d been adamant about duty and responsibility.
He’d been her strongest supporter when she’d wanted to try out for Little League baseball instead of softball. He’d argued her case with the school board when she wanted to pitch for her high school baseball team. But in return, he’d made her volunteer for every charity that needed an extra pair of hands. He’d insisted she babysit April and help her with her homework. He’d nourished her competitive streak and her sense of responsibility. A burden and a curse, she’d once told Nate.
Thinking about how close she and Nate had been made her cringe inside. The inward cringe made her wound ache. Aching wounds reignited her need for justice.
“Tree.” Duke interrupted her thoughts and his milk consumption, pointing to a large fir tree.
A yellow tow truck drove past. The driver waved at Duke.
“Truck.” Duke turned in his seat to grin up at Julie, eyes so like April’s that her breath caught.
She forgot about vendettas, twinging gunshot wounds and the past. She let her chest fill with the blissful sight of the gift April had left the world. “Do you know how much your mama loved you?”
Duke’s grin deepened and he spread his little arms wide. “This much!” He sat back in the stroller and pointed to the town square, which was all grass except for one large oak. “Tree.” And then he pointed to the left, to a blue pickup with a gold star on the door. “Truck.”
Nate’s truck. Nate was at El Rosal. Julie’s steps slowed.
El Rosal was a colorful Mexican restaurant with outdoor dining fenced in by a low wrought iron fence. On the same side of the street a few doors down was Martin’s Bakery. Both seemed to be doing a brisk morning business.
Nate sat at an outdoor table with a thin, elderly black man. The sheriff wore a blue checkered shirt beneath a navy sleeveless jacket. He gave his dining companion that half smile she knew so well. Only it wasn’t the same half smile of old. Not the one he used to send Julie’s way, the one that said he couldn’t trust himself to release his feelings. This one said he liked the man across from him and he was comfortable letting his companion know it.
Julie’s throat ached with the feeling of loss. It shouldn’t. She’d lost Nate as a friend the day he’d left April. But looking at him now, at that open-book smile, she wondered if their friendship had been one-sided.
“You’re early.” Nate pushed back his chair and hurried to meet them on the sidewalk, the contained half smile giving nothing away. He bent down near Duke’s level. “How’re you today, buddy?”
“Great!” Duke thrust his cup in the air.
Julie’s gaze stumbled over Nate. No uniform. No gun belt. She had no idea who he was anymore.
Nate’s scruffy dining companion appeared at his side. He wore a wrinkled orange T-shirt and a dirty green zippered sweatshirt. He had bachelor written all over him. “I’m Terrance.” He slanted a frown Nate’s way. “Next time you put me in jail for the night, I’d like breakfast in bed.” He walked slowly away, as if he had nowhere to go.
“What did you arrest him for?” Julie asked.
Nate’s gaze followed the old man. “Annoying me.” There was the dry humor she remembered.
“And that’s against the law?”
“In my town, yes.”
It was Julie’s turn to frown at the sheriff. Maybe Doris did have a legitimate claim against him. That cheered Julie, even if she didn’t quite believe it.
Meanwhile, Nate’s gaze focused on Julie and the lines around his dark eyes deepened. “You should reconsider your accommodations and stay with me.”
“No, thanks. Terrance didn’t look all that rested.”
“Neither do you.”
She glanced past Nate to the bakery sign, a little of her confidence returning. She knew how to deal with this Nate—be firm.
