Jack was in agreement, but Carrie was confused. Jack made it sound as though they had driven together, but they had not.
Before she had a chance to ask, he said, “You take your car, and Jack can ride with me in the Sheriff’s SUV. We’ll follow behind to make sure you get home safely, and he’ll get the thrill of riding with me.”
She wanted to say that was not necessary, but because the offer was already out, Jack was virtually bouncing in his chair. Tori and Mitch grinned at her, and all she could say was, “Sure.” Saying goodbye to Tori and Mitch, she stood and grabbed her purse, noting that Colt had already taken her ice cream bowl away for her. As they walked out the door, Colt placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her gently down the sidewalk as Jack walked backward in front of them so that he could keep talking.
They passed several people on the sidewalk, many of the men that she knew were friends of Colt’s and their wives that she had just met. Everyone seemed to notice Colt’s hand on her back, and their faces were filled with smiles. The touch of his fingertips burned through her shirt as though she were being branded. That was a feeling she had never had and decided she liked. Maybe whatever this was would not last very long, but if her skin felt like that with the barest touch of his hand, she was willing to find out what more he had to offer.
She climbed into her car and watched as Jack hopped into the front seat of the Sheriff’s SUV. She watched as Colt made sure that he was buckled securely before he gave her a two-finger wave and she pulled out in front of him. She always drove carefully, but with a Sheriff’s vehicle behind her, she did not go one tad over the speed limit.
Looking into her rearview mirror, she could see that Jack was talking nonstop. She could also see that Colt was occasionally looking at him, smiling and nodding, talking in return.
The drive to her home was not long but filled with thoughts. From the moment she had discovered she was pregnant at seventeen, she had been scared but excited. Her boyfriend was already in college, twenty years old, and they had been inseparable for a few months. They had always used a condom, but she remembered he got very nervous one time when he pulled it off. She did not think anything about it until morning sickness struck, and she drove to another town to get a pregnancy test.
Terrified, she told him, but his reaction was not what she hoped. He demanded she have an abortion, said he would pay for it, adding that his parents would never agree to him having a child with her.
Distraught, she told her parents, who were upset, but they held her tightly, supporting her decision to keep the baby. She had only seen her boyfriend two other times after that, both times begging him to stay with her, but he refused.
He finally told her, “Don’t you understand? You were a summer fling. My dad told me those were fine, and it didn’t matter what kind of woman I had with a fling. But you’re not the kind of woman who can take my career further or who would be good on my arm when I get where I want to go. My parents would never agree to this.”
That was the last day she had seen him. His name was not even on Jack’s birth certificate. Without being able to give Jack a father, she had been determined to give him everything she could, even though her family was poor. Her father had been a good role model but died too early, and Jack barely remembered him. She had been lucky when Joe and Mavis hired her, a young, unmarried, twenty-year-old mother who had just moved into the area. Joe had become like a favorite uncle. Because Joe’s Place was so close to the county government buildings—including the Sheriff’s Office—it was often filled with some of the good men and women of law enforcement, and when Jack was around, he made friends with everyone.
She knew she was a good mom, but she also knew it was a risk to bring someone into Jack’s life that could abandon him. She figured she could take it. It had happened before. But she was not willing for it to happen to Jack. So it had been a long, somewhat lonely eleven years.
But now, looking in the rearview mirror at Colt and Jack laughing and talking, Colt giving him a ride in the Sheriff’s SUV, her heart warmed. She knew Colt was not playing her, even if they had no idea how the game would turn out. She just had to figure out how far she was willing to risk her—and Jack’s—hearts.
“Two more robberies last night,” Hunter confirmed to Colt.
“Fuckin’ hell. What did they get this time?”
Before Hunter had a chance to answer, Loretta, Colt’s secretary, let him know that Chiefs Evans and Freeman were there. Colt looked up as Mitch and Hannah walked in, offering greetings before sitting down at the table with him and Hunter.
He had been expecting them before Hunter had dropped the latest news on him, and he had Hunter detailed the latest robberies.
Hunter continued, “One house had a laptop taken, and both houses had prescription drugs that were stolen as well.”
Eyebrows raised, Colt barked, “You're shitting me. Prescription drugs?”
“Up to now, what’s been taken has seemed random. But the one thing that’s holding strong is that these are not robberies of big houses that might have a lot to steal. In other words, they’re not million-dollar homes, they’re not vacation homes. They are places that are easy to get to, easy to get away from. Both homes last night were on small roads, older people on subsidies. Their cell phones weren’t great, but one of them had a laptop. It was an older model, and he said his son had given it to him. He used it to send emails to his grandkids. But both homes had prescription drugs stolen.”
Colt asked, “From their bedrooms? Bathrooms?”
Shaking his head, Hunter said, “A lot of people keep their prescription drugs in the kitchen. It’s easy for them to remember when they get their coffee or breakfast. And if they don’t have little kids running around the house, then they don’t have to worry about kids getting into them.”
“Are we looking at professional drug runners?” Hannah asked.
“Or someone with a drug habit that’s stealing to support that?” Mitch asked.
Shaking his head, Colt replied, “I’ve got no fuckin’ clue at this point.”
Hunter added, “In both cases last night, the homeowners were asleep and didn’t hear a thing. One of them doesn’t even lock his doors because he says he never thinks about it and doesn’t have anything worth stealing anyway. The other one locked his door, but it was a simple twist bolt and was easily jimmied.”
“If this was just kids, it seems too organized,” Hannah commented.
“If it’s coming down from the north, how are they targeting these houses?” Mitch asked.
Rubbing his chin, Colt pondered for a moment. “Is there anything to suggest that this is tied into the pawn shop robbery?”
“Not now,” Hunter said. “There’s nothing that’s tying any of these robberies to the pawn shop.”
Sighing, Colt said, “Okay. Keep working on it and keep me up on everything. Make sure the Sergeant gets everything out to our deputies. The people in this county are going to start wondering what’s happening, and I want them assured that we're doing everything we can, no matter who’s being robbed.”
Hunter agreed, offering a chin lift to those in the room before leaving.
“I can’t believe that this is just in the county and hasn’t hit anyone in Easton or Baytown yet. But I have a feeling that might come,” Colt said.
Just then, Hannah got a call, and she stood, saying she was needed at the courthouse.
Colt looked at Mitch and continued, “I’ve pulled up the information from Liam on the gangs in his county, but I swear, I’m just not seeing a pattern down here.”
Mitch nodded his head slowly, then said, “In Baytown, we have vacation homes, historical homes, and some high-end homes with good security. But also, most of our homes are close together, with very little yard space in between them. It sounds like the people being hit here are on rural roads where there are not a lot of eyes on them.”
Nodding, Colt said, “Yeah, I thought about that. But this county is so fuckin
’ spread out there’s no way that my deputies can patrol all the streets. The best I can do is get something out in the news that lets people know this is happening and that they need to lock their doors and be careful.”
The two men stood and got ready to leave the conference room. Mitch turned and said, “I’ve got to tell you that Tori and I talked yesterday. We both agreed that you looked good in the ice cream shop with Jack and Carrie.” Throwing his hands up, he rushed, “No, I’m not here to give you any shit. I’m just letting you know that there was an ease about you that I haven’t seen before. Tori noticed it too. Just know that your friends want the best for you…and her.”
Realizing that Mitch was not hounding him, he nodded. “I gotta admit, it did feel good.” Watching Mitch leave the room, he slowly walked back to his own office, thoughts of Carrie moving through his mind as they so often did. With a grin, he hoped it was not long before he saw her again.
10
Carrie slept light, she had for years. She used to think it was because Jack was a baby, and she wanted to wake in case he stirred. Back then, she lived with her parents, and even if they might wake, she always wanted to be the one to get to Jack first. Then, when she and her mom moved to the Eastern Shore after her dad died, she rented her own place. They considered renting together, but Carrie wanted independence, and Della fell in love with a small, one-bedroom apartment that was near the store where she worked part-time.
When Carrie continued to sleep light, she thought it was because she was a single parent who needed to hear if Jack was sick or in the bathroom at night. But he slept like the dead, and at his age, if he needed her, he would come to get her. But still, she always woke easily, and tonight was no different.
Her eyes jerked open, and she could not discern what had made her wake. Climbing from the bed, she padded across the hall and looked into Jack’s room, seeing him asleep. Not just under the covers asleep, but on his stomach, one knee bent with the foot kicked out to the side, one arm tucked under his pillow. She could not help but grin, thinking that when her boy slept, he slept!
She tiptoed quietly to Jack’s window which overlooked the back yard, but it was dark outside, and there was nothing for her to see. She left his room, partially closing the door, before going downstairs. Her way was lit by a series of nightlights, one in the hall at the top of the stairs as well as one at the bottom. She never wanted Jack to wake up and be frightened in the dark, so she made sure she had nightlights around the house.
Checking the front door, she could see that it was secure, and she walked into the kitchen, finding the sliding glass door locked as well.
No noises could be heard other than a car driving down the road. That was not unusual because while she lived on a rural street, there were still some houses around. In fact, she knew one of the men who lived down the road had a job at one of the few factories on the Eastern Shore, and he worked shift work.
Deciding there was nothing amiss other than her usual light sleeping, she went back upstairs and crawled into bed. It took a little while to find sleep again, her mind now filled with Colt instead of her sleeplessness.
When he had dropped Jack off in the Sheriff’s SUV that afternoon, George had been sitting on his porch, his hand up shading his eyes as he watched them approach. He had made a big deal about Jack being able to ride with the Sheriff, even joking that he thought maybe Jack was under arrest. Jack had informed George that if that was the case he would be in the back seat in handcuffs instead of sitting in the front seat.
George announced that he had gone to the grocery store and bought Jack’s favorite soda and an apple pie and invited them all to share it with him on the front porch. Carrie knew that Jack had just filled up on ice cream but convinced herself that since it was a dairy product, it had to be somewhat healthy. Plus, the apple pie had fruit in it. Nodding toward Jack, she told him to go inside and help George get the snack. She looked up at Colt and thanked him for bringing Jack home, but he was already sitting down one of the chairs on the front porch.
Surprised, she realized that he was staying for George’s invitation as well. George and Jack came back out, large slices of pie on saucers and four cans of soda. They enjoyed the pie, which was good but not as good as her homemade, which George pointed out to Colt. That prompted Jack to tell Colt that he needed to have some of his mom’s pie sometime. She wanted to roll her eyes at the blatant attempt of George and her son to try to push Colt and her together, but she just smiled instead.
Colt looked over at her, his eyes smoldering, and said, “I can’t wait to try your pie.”
She sputtered in the middle of a sip of soda, and Jack jumped up to slap her on the back. Feeling as though she had entered an alternate universe with others trying to pair her up with Colt and he suddenly flirting with her, she managed to get her coughing under control and told Jack that if he killed his mom by beating on her he would be in trouble for perpetrating a crime right in front of the Sheriff.
That caused Jack to bust out laughing, and everyone eased into fun conversation again. A few minutes later, Colt’s phone buzzed, and after he checked the message, he said that he needed to leave. After watching him drive away, she felt strangely adrift during the rest of the afternoon.
Now, in the middle the night, trying to settle her mind so that she could sleep, she could no longer deny that it seemed that Colt was definitely interested. Her lips curved into a secret, sleepy smile, and she closed her eyes, wondering when she might hear from him next.
“Jack, buddy, please go check with George to see if there’s anything else he needs. I know he went to the grocery store yesterday, but since we’re getting ready to go, I want to see if he forgot anything.”
Carrie had a rare morning off from work and planned on taking advantage of it. First stop was the grocery store, then the bank, and she wanted to take Jack by the library to make sure he had some books to read. On the days that he did not have church camp or middle school camp, George was going to keep an eye on him when she was working.
Walking downstairs, she made sure she had her paycheck and her envelope filled with tips to take to the bank.
Jack came flying back through the front door, skidding to a stop in front of her, yelling, “Mom!”
“Did he need anything—” Turning, she observed the wide-eyes staring up at her and immediately asked, “What is it?”
Jack was shaking his head and said, “I don’t know. George’s door is open.”
“Well, maybe he’s doing yard work on the side of the house.”
“No, Mom! It looks like it’s been broken open.”
Instantly alert, she said, “Here,” shoving her phone into his hands. She rushed out of her front door and around to George’s. Jack was right, the front door was standing open a few inches, the area around the doorknob looked like it had been forced. Pushing the door open, she called out, “George! George!” She did not hear any noises and moved to the living room and into the kitchen. George’s side of the duplex was exactly like hers, only in reverse. Seeing nothing downstairs, she made it to the top of the stairs, heart pounding, still calling his name, with no response.
George kept one of his bedrooms as a spare in case his son or grandkids visited, which was not very often since they lived far away. That door was open, and it was easy to see there was nothing there. George’s bedroom door was also standing open, and as she pushed it further, she instantly saw George was lying on the floor, dried blood on the side of his head.
She screamed for Jack to call 9-1-1 and dropped to her knees next to George. He was still breathing, struggling to open his eyes.
“Just stay here, just stay here. We’re calling for the ambulance.” She jumped up and rushed into the bathroom to get a wet cloth and saw his medicine cabinet open, some things spilled onto the sink and floor. Knowing she should not touch anything, she backed out of the bathroom and dropped to the floor next to George again. Grabbing onto his hand, she held tight.
Heari
ng a noise, she looked up and saw Jack’s terrified face standing in the doorway. “Jack! What are you doing here? You should get back downstairs.”
Her son’s voice was shaky as he asked, “Is he...?”
“No, he’s injured but alive, baby. Did you call 9-1-1?”
Jack looked at her and nodded but said, “I called Sheriff Hudson first.”
She looked up in surprise, but he said, “He gave me his number and told me to call him if we ever needed anything.”
She held George’s hand after telling Jack to go back downstairs and wait for the ambulance. Looking down, she continued to assure George, holding his gnarled hand in hers, until she heard the sirens in the distance.
Carrie hated to let go of George’s hand but ran to the window that overlooked the front yard so that she could keep an eye on Jack. Turning into the driveway in front of the ambulance was a Sheriff’s SUV, and she had no doubt who was driving it. She watched as Colt bolted from behind the wheel, charging toward the front of the duplex. She heard Jack call out, “Colt!”
Her heart pounded a ferocious beat as Jack ran toward him, not stopping. Colt lowered himself enough to scoop Jack into his embrace. She watched Colt’s mouth move but was unable to hear what he was saying. Nothing had prepared her for seeing her son clinging to a good man. A man who did not have to do what he was doing. A man who could have sent deputies and just the ambulance. A man who could have told Jack to go back into his house and stay in there. But instead, Colt was holding her shaking son, offering him comfort, while teaching him that a man, a good man, is never too busy to hug a friend.
The air in the room felt thick, and she could barely suck it in. A movement from behind her jolted her away from the window, and she ran to drop back down at George’s side. “They’re here. It’s going to be okay,” she assured.
She heard the pounding of footsteps on the stairs and cried out, “Colt! We’re in here!” She looked up in time to see his large frame filling the doorway, his perceptive gaze sweeping the room.
Our Time (Baytown Boys Book 11) Page 8
