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“Hey!”
Like a lightning strike, his hands were around the canister, pulling it beneath his coat. He turned and ran for the door with such speed, Willa was still standing in shock when the door harp pinged behind him.
For a second, she merely stared. Then outrage, pure and robust, rose inside her like a geyser. Gia’s family needed that money. They needed the support it represented. They needed to know they were not forgotten, that Gia was not forgotten as she lay in a hospital bed in a long-term care facility.
Veins filling with adrenaline, Willa abandoned her post at the bakery, running full throttle after the boy. Twilight had turned to dusk, and the sunny day had given way to clouds that inhibited her visibility, but she caught sight of him up ahead.
To avoid running into a family, the kid dodged right, which forced him to skirt around a bench and slowed him down.
“Stop! You stop right now!” Willa hollered. Pedestrians turned to stare. Briefly, the boy looked back at her, too, his eyes wide. Then he jumped over a dog tied up to a street lamp and kept running.
Sophie Turner, who owned A Step in Time New and Vintage Shoes, was outside sweeping her front entrance when Willa raced by. “Willa?” the young woman exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”
“He took my canister,” she panted. “I’ve got to get him.”
“He took...what? Do you need help?” Sophie called after her.
“No!” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “I’m warning you, you little twerp!” Really, she had been so wrong about this kid. “Stop. Right. Now!”
“Who are we chasing?”
Willa glanced to her right to see Derek Neel, out of uniform, jogging beside her. For a second, she was discombobulated. She’d seen him in street clothes before, of course, but tonight off duty Sheriff Neel seemed taller, more rugged and somehow relaxed even as he ran with her.
“He stole my donation jar,” she said, panting.
“Who?”
“That kid!” Pointing, she accused, “That tricky little—Wait a minute, where’d he go?” Her eyes searched the darkening streets, but all she could see were a few scattered citizens of Thunder Ridge watching their sheriff and Willa run down the block together. “Darn it!” She stumbled to a stop, her breath heavy, her skin at once hot from exertion and cold from the thirty-five-degree evening. Suddenly, not even adrenaline could make her forget how tired she was, and how frustrated. “You made me lose him,” she said, putting her hands on her thighs and bending over to catch her breath. “He’s got all the money we’ve been collecting for a week. Do you know what that represented?”
“I’m not even sure what you’re talking about.” Derek’s characteristic unruffled demeanor was intended to defuse the situation, but it had the opposite effect on Willa when he asked, “Who do you think took your jar?”
“I don’t think he took it. I know he did.” Her sudden fury at the kid was out of proportion, but she didn’t care. “I was standing right there.”
“Okay. And you say he looked like a kid.”
“He didn’t look like a kid. He is a kid.” She started walking again, searching up and down the side streets, exasperated. “A kid with someone else’s donation money.”
“Okay, look, why don’t you come on back to my office. You can give me a description, tell me what happened and how much money you think he’s got.”
“No.” The word emerged too sharp, so she added, “Thank you. I’m going to find him.”
Derek reached for her arm. “It’s getting dark. He could have ducked into his house by now.”
“Then I’ll go door to door.” Turning on Ponderosa Avenue toward the residential area, she strode up the block, searching. When she felt tears at the corners of her eyes, she swiped them away and kept walking. Derek stayed by her side, keeping pace until they had gone two blocks. Then he reached for her arm again, refusing to let go when she tried to pull away.
Because she was over-the-top, clearly, and probably irrational and maybe even a little scary, he looked at her in concern. “What is this really about?” His eyes searched hers as if he was trying to read what she wouldn’t tell him.
She felt grief and fury rise inside her like dirty flood water. I thought I was past this. I thought I’d cut this part of me out. A couple of years ago, blinding anger had sprouted inside her as if it were a new organ. She’d worked hard to excise it, but tonight she felt as if she could scream—loudly and long enough to punch a hole in the night sky.
It had nothing to do with Derek. He was simply the hapless boulder standing in the path of her raging river. Willa’s mind was on Gia—unable to speak clearly since the accident, barely able to walk and only fifteen. And her father, her poor father, probably felt responsible and utterly helpless.
Traumatic brain injuries were cruel. She’d wanted so much to show him his family was remembered every day.
“Never mind.” She turned toward Warm Springs Road. She would get a new jar tomorrow, refill it herself and take it to the care facility. That, of course, was the reasonable solution. The boy was not her business. She shouldn’t have interacted with him so much to begin with.
It took a moment to realize Derek was still holding her arm.
“I have to go. I left the store unattended.” Which was a pretty stupid thing to do and an even dumber thing to admit to the owner’s best friend. Great. Crazy Woman Loses Job would probably be the headline on the next Thunder Ridge Gazette.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“What? No. You were probably headed somewhere, and I’m fine. Really. I was over-the-top. Sorry.” How many times could you apologize to someone for erratic behavior? “It was a long day. I’m fine now.” She forced a smile. “Not crazy.”
He didn’t bother to answer. Didn’t let go of her arm, either. With his jaw set in capable sheriff mode, he accompanied her back toward Warm Springs Road, Thunder Ridge’s main street.
For future reference, Willa thought, never tell someone you’re not crazy. It makes you sound crazy.
When they passed A Step In Time on their way back to the bakery, Sophie, who was young and pretty and single, ran to the door and smiled when she saw Derek. “Hi! Did you help Willa find her thief?”
“No, no need.” Willa tried to sound philosophical. “He was just a kid. I lost perspective there for a few minutes. It’s over and done now.”
Beneath the street lamps that had switched on and the glow from the exterior light at Sophie’s store, it was easy to see her brows pucker beneath a mop of caramel-brown curls. “I don’t have kids, but if I did, I’d want to make sure they were held responsible for stealing. That boy’s parents should hear about it.” She divided her glance between Derek and Willa. “I hope you guys follow through.”
“We will.” Derek responded firmly. “Good night.”
On they walked until they reached Something Sweet. Standing before the glass door, with the shop aglow inside, Willa hoped she would find the cash register exactly as she’d left it and figured she probably would. Crime was a relatively rare occurrence in Thunder Ridge. Before she opened the door, she said, “Everything looks fine.” What were the odds she could persuade him not to come in? She needed some time alone to collect herself. “Thanks for walking back with me. I appreciate your help. I have some work to do and then I have to close, and I’ve taken enough of your time, so—”
“You’re going to need to give a statement and a description of the suspect.”
“No. I overreacted. Frankly, I’m embarrassed. Can we just forget it?”
Derek frowned. Disapprovingly. “This is about the boy now. I need to talk to his parents.”
“Sure. Of course. It’s pretty clear you aren’t on duty right now, though.” Her gaze traveled over his off duty attire—well-fitting black jeans and a zipped-up gray hoodie—and she wondered if he was meeting someone. A man that handsome, after all... Changing her train of thought, she offered, “So maybe I can swing by the station later tonight and talk to whoever’s on call.”
Derek reached around her for the door. He held it open and waited.
Quickly assessing the outcome of making an even bigger deal about this than she already had, Willa brushed past him. She didn’t bother to walk behind the counter or into the kitchen. He wasn’t going to leave, so she turned to face him in the middle of the bakery. Beneath the hoodie, she spied the top of a black turtleneck sweater that was exactly the shade of the thick waves that fell across his forehead. Yep, he definitely looked like a man with better things to do than solve the puzzle of her lunatic behavior.
“It seems I keep owing you apologies.”
Raising one shoulder in a brief shrug, he said, “Nah. I’m not big on apologies. An explanation about what happened out there would be nice, though.”
God knew she owed him one, but it would entail too many personal revelations, so she shrugged, too, hoping irony would diffuse the situation. “I’m not big on explanations.”
“That’s a problem then,” he said. Hooking his thumbs in his back pockets, he narrowed his gaze. “How do you feel about baos?”
“About what?”
“Baos. They’re Chinese dumplings filled with meat. Sometimes beans.”
“I know what they are.” She’d once taught a class on Asian fusion cuisine.
“Good. How about eating some with me?” he invited. “Have you ever been to The Twin Dragon in Zig Zag? Best baos this side of Shanghai.”
“Have you been to Shanghai?”
“Only in my dreams.”
“Well, maybe someday you’ll really go,” she murmured. She had been to China. It had been a wonderful trip.
“I’ve been waiting for the right time,” Derek said.
Her head rose at that. “You shouldn’t. If you want to travel, you should just do it. Don’t wait.”
He gazed at her curiously, and she realized she’d sounded emphatic. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he said. He gestured toward the street beyond the window. “It’s a big world out there. I’d like to see it with someone. That enhances the view, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” Uncomfortably aware that she hadn’t responded to his dinner invitation, she clasped her hands in front of her. “I’d really rather not pursue finding that boy,” she said, glancing everywhere but at Derek. “I think he was just...impulsive. I don’t think he’s a criminal.”
“He’ll be impulsive again.”
“Still—”
“I’m not going to send him to juvenile hall. I want to talk to him and to his family. See if they’re aware of what he’s up to. Assuming he’s never done something like this before, I’d like to make sure he doesn’t do it again.”
Reasonable. Derek was being very reasonable. She couldn’t argue without explaining her reluctance. “All right. After I close up here, I’ll go over to your office to file a report and then head home.”
The arch of his brow, the flare of awareness in his eyes and the near-imperceptible quirk at the corners of his masculine lips told her he got the message. No baos; just business. And no explanations, either.
“My deputy, Russell, is on duty all night. I’ll text and let him know he should expect you.”
She wanted to assure him that her rejection of his dinner invitation was not personal, but he was already on his way to the door. His broad, relaxed shoulders gave no indication that his feelings were wounded. Pausing with his hand on the door handle, he turned to consider her. “Maybe I should have been a detective. I like puzzles. Here’s one I’m working on—beautiful woman—young, intelligent, capable of running her own business—moves to a small town in Oregon where she didn’t know anybody and doesn’t seem to want to. She takes a job working as a waitress in a deli. What would her motivation be?”
“For taking a job as a waitress? That’s a rather elitist attitude.”
“You have to consider the question in context,” he said pleasantly enough. “The woman is clearly overqualified.”
“Maybe she thought waitressing would turn out to be an upwardly mobile position.”
“Could be.” He nodded. “I doubt she would have assumed that at the start, though. There was no evidence that it would be.”
“Well, it’s hardly a mystery. Plenty of people move to Oregon because they want less stress and a pretty place to live. As for not socializing constantly, some people are naturally introverts.”
“Maybe.” Derek considered her for a long time. “Then again, maybe she’s afraid.”
“Of what?” Willa shook her head. “Never mind.” She wagged her finger, trying to keep the moment light. “This is annoying, Sheriff. You’re talking about me in the third person.”
“I apologize. I had to repeat Language Arts in high school. Let me try it again. When I look at you, Willa, I see someone who wants to reach out, but won’t. Or can’t. I see something behind your eyes. Something you want to say or do, but wouldn’t dare. And I can’t help but wonder what it is. And why it’s so hard.” He opened the door, admitting a blast of cold air, and gave her one last look. “I’m not the enemy.”
With that, Derek headed out onto the streets that were his to serve and protect.
Willa remained alone in the shop, shivering even after the door closed. The image of his searching dark eyes lasted long after he had disappeared.
Chapter Three (#u5c0aa684-b2a7-5121-9d37-16948672bda5)
“You need to leave my employee alone, let her concentrate on her work, and go find a woman who actually wants you, because right now you are barking up the wrong tree.” Izzy took a bite out of her pastrami and coleslaw on rye then spoke with her mouth full. “Gosh, I hope that didn’t sound harsh.”
“Gosh, it did.” Derek unwrapped the deli sandwich Izzy had brought him. Once a week when the weather was decent, and often when it wasn’t, he and Izzy met in Doc Howard Memorial Park. She supplied lunch from the deli, he supplied the appetite, and they sat by the river, talked and ate. Today he wasn’t in the mood for food. “Is there mustard on this?”
“Of course.”
“What about mayo?”
“Derek, please—” she sounded offended “—you’ve been eating the same sandwich for—what?—ten years? I know how you like it, and I respect your condiment selections.” She poked at her own mammoth concoction, adding, “Even though I think they’re misguided.”
Brisket on challah had been his go-to sandwich since he’d had his first meal at The Pickle Jar. He liked it with mayo, spicy mustard, and—Izzy’s main objection—ketchup.
“Since I can see that you are not ready to stop obsessing about the manager of my bakery, let’s return to our regularly scheduled programming.” Extending her legs and crossing her ankles, Izzy flexed her feet inside fuzzy faux fur–lined boots. “Recap. Willa turned you down for baos, which is too bad, but at least you asked, which is progress over last year when you were so afraid to be rejected you barely spoke to her.”
“I was not afraid to be rejected. What the—” Sitting up straight, he glared at his best friend. “I didn’t want to pressure her or put us both in an uncomfortable situation.”
“Ooh. Good thinking, Dr. Phil.”
“I didn’t want to come off like a stalker. Okay?”
“Mmm. And now?”
“Now it’s different. At the tavern, I saw that she is interested.”
Lowering her sandwich, Izzy gazed at him, her sparkling eyes turning serious and more sensitive. “Derek, was she interested in you? Or was she interested in, you know, a man in general?” Obviously trying not to hurt him or to see him hurt himself, she rushed on. “Willa has been alone here for over a year. She doesn’t really socialize with anyone at work. Maybe she’s lonely and it was just...time.” Placing a hand on his arm, she said, “I wouldn’t hurt you for all the world, you know that. I know how much you have to give, and I want to see you happy. You said you weren’t going to date unavailable women, anymore. Remember? You said you were going to be sane about your relationships. Unlike me.” She grinned.
She can afford to grin about it, Derek thought, gratitude for his friend’s happiness softening his mood somewhat. On Izzy’s left ring finger were an engagement ring, the wedding band Nate Thayer knew he should have given her fourteen years earlier and an eternity band to signify Nate’s commitment never to leave her again.
To say Derek had disliked Izzy’s now-husband when he’d first met the man...well, that was an understatement. Nate Thayer had hurt Izzy once, before Izzy and Derek had met. After hearing the story and being Izzy’s best friend for all these years, Derek had given Nate as hard a time as he could when the other man had shown up again, suddenly, last year. But Nate had turned out to be a good guy—hard to intimidate, too—and Izzy was nuts about him. Eventually, despite the trust issues born from his own past, Derek had given the pair his blessing, and they seemed to be doing fine. Great, in fact.
So, yeah, Izzy could afford to smile about it all now.
“That night in the tavern,” he said slowly, looking at the river, “I sensed from Willa what I’ve been feeling all along. Some of what I’ve been feeling,” he amended, figuring honestly that Willa wasn’t as invested as he. “It was more than physical.”
Izzy shook her head. “Even after a year of working together, I hardly know anything about her, beyond the fact that she has a strong work ethic and is completely reliable.” She reached for a dill pickle. “You know, if I got a dollar every time someone asked me to set you up with them—or with their daughter or their cousin or their cousin’s daughter’s cousin—over the years, I could retire. So why this woman, this time? I mean, yes, she’s lovely and I know you’ve had the hots for her, but, really, why Willa?”
The stretch of Long River where they sat flowed quietly, with little fanfare, but it was beautiful, mysterious and multifaceted as any white water Derek had ever seen. It reminded him of Willa. Her silvery eyes were soft, keenly observant, kind, sad—it all depended on the hour and the day. He could study her endlessly and still not see everything he knew there was to see.
“When we were in the tavern, I told her a joke. A really silly one.”
“One of Henry’s?”
“Yeah.” Izzy’s former boss, Henry Bernstein, used to offer his customers “A joke and a pickle for only a nickel.” Derek had heard plenty of them (and had eaten a lot of pickles) over the years. “Willa liked it. She laughed. Really laughed. For the first time, her smile was in her eyes, too, and I could see...” He held up a hand as Izzy gaped at him. “Don’t say anything. No wisecracks.” He waited until Izzy nodded before he continued. “I could see what the future might be with her. And, yeah, there was something kind of desperate about the way she was behaving, but for a moment there, I think she was wondering what a future might be like, too.” Izzy was looking at him seriously, as seriously as she ever had. He took a deep breath. “My gut’s been telling me for a long time that this is different. This is special. So even when I took her home, I knew we weren’t going to do anything more than kiss.”
