by J. R. Adler
Back inside, Kimberley slid off her shoes.
“I’m going to bed,” she called out, turning toward the hallway that led to her bedroom.
David entered the living room with a smirk on his face and a beer bottle in his hand.
“I guess round here ain’t child’s play after all, since we got our wildlife spookin’ an NYPD detective,” he said with a chuckle.
Kimberley rolled her eyes and decided against quipping back at him.
“Good night, David,” she said curtly.
“I’m just teasing ya, Kimberley. Good night.” He took a swig of his beer.
Inside the bedroom, she closed the door and turned off the light, feeling her way to the bed. Kimberley pulled the covers over her and laid still, listening to her daughter’s breathing. She closed her eyes, but the sleep didn’t come. Instead, her thoughts raced. One after another. What the hell was that noise outside? Did she do the right thing for her and her daughter by coming here? Should she have left the city? Should she have moved to Dead Woman Crossing? There was a whole world out there, and she chose Okla-fucking-homa. What was she thinking? Oh, yes. She was thinking of her mom, her daughter, their future. But would her new job be enough for her? Would this town respect her? Would David and his family accept her? Is this simple place even where she wanted Jessica to grow up? No exposure to anything besides this little bubble? Worry after worry. Thought after thought, each its own vehicle, speeding along a twelve-lane highway at one hundred miles an hour, flying in both directions and just narrowly missing one another, cutting each other off, vying to be in the front of her mind, an impending collision bound to happen. The one thing she was sure of at that point was that she wouldn’t be sleeping at all. And before her first day of work, no less. It was just gonna be one of those nights. Kimberley let out a sigh and pulled out her cell phone, opening the Hallmark movie app. With a couple of scrolls, she quickly settled on the film, The Lost Valentine starring Betty White and Jennifer Love Hewitt. She had seen it many times, but that didn’t bother her. She liked it for what it was: predictable and heartfelt. Kimberley dimmed her phone’s brightness, slid her AirPods into her ears, and pressed play.
9
Kimberley waved goodbye to Jessica a third time. Her daughter was already so preoccupied with colorful blocks and new friends that she didn’t deliver another bye-bye beyond the first one. A small ache settled in Kimberley’s heart at leaving Jessica at daycare. In the city, Jessica would cry when she left, but here she didn’t even notice. Then again, in the city, she left her with a seventy-year-old woman named Agnes that Kimberley was sure watched soap operas all day. Regardless, Jessica was growing up before her eyes. Kimberley nodded at Margaret, who gave her a reassuring smile back. She left the room and made her way down the hall, through the foyer and when she went to open the front door, it was pushed into her with greater force than she had provided. On the other side, holding the door handle, stood a disheveled Hannah with her daughter, Isobel, propped up on her hip.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said, taking a step back and looking Kimberley up and down. Recognition hit from the day before and she gave her a clumsy smile. “We have to stop meeting like this.” She laughed awkwardly.
“They didn’t fire you yesterday?” Kimberley said with a smirk, holding the door open so Hannah could get by.
Hannah crossed the threshold out of breath like she had been running. Her hair was haphazardly pulled back in a messy ponytail and her eyes were dark and heavy. Kimberley assumed she looked similar as she hadn’t slept well either. She released the handle, allowing the spring-loaded door to close, keeping the air conditioning and the children contained.
“Unfortunately, not. I keep trying but they just can’t seem to cut the cord,” she said sarcastically, walking into the foyer.
Hannah bounced Isobel on her hip a couple of times. “You just drop your daughter off?”
Kimberley nodded.
“I need to get here on time one of these days, so our little ones can meet,” Hannah said with a strained smile, the smile someone gave when they needed a friend, someone to talk to.
Kimberley recognized that look. She had seen it many times before.
“Well, I’ll keep being here at the same time, so maybe five minutes earlier on the old alarm clock and our girls can finally say hello.”
“Ha, I’ve tried that. Hell, I’ve tried an hour earlier. I just keep hitting snooze. It’s like my mind won’t let it trick itself. It knows the exact time I need to wake up and be in a constant state of anxiety and rush so we can haphazardly sprint through the morning, not showing up on time to anything and alienating everyone around us. It’s really a lovely way to start the day—you should try it sometime.”
Kimberley could hear the sarcasm mixed with actual regret and stress. A sad love song, begging for help.
“I just might have to do that. Maybe take a walk on the wild side,” Kimberley joked back. She liked Hannah. “Well, I’m off to work, really shouldn’t be late on the first day. It was nice seeing you again.”
Kimberley made her way toward the front door. As she grabbed the knob, twisted, and pulled the weight in toward her, she felt a hand land on her shoulder and give the slightest suggestion of pressure, urging her body to please turn back around. Hannah was still in the foyer, staring at Kimberley’s face.
“Ya know, my offer still stands by the way. If you wanna grab coffee or a drink some time I would be more than happy to.” This time the pretense of a warm invitation was gone. The sentence could just as easily be translated as “Please spend time with me. I need a friend. Please.”
And Kimberley suddenly knew more about this woman than words could ever say, yet she still wanted to learn more.
“I didn’t forget,” Kimberley said with a soft smile, trying to keep the situation light. “Look, I’m over at the Custer County Sheriff’s Office. How about you call me today on one of your breaks? I’ll have a better idea of my schedule, and we can set up some time. Sound good?”
“Sure! Yeah. I can do that. I mean, I will. I’ll call.” Hannah lit up, giddy as a schoolgirl going to her first dance.
Kimberley gave her a nod and left the daycare center, jogging back to her car. She looked down at her watch… She was going to be late for work, her first day of work.
10
Just like the day before and like her days would be from that point on, Kimberley opened the first set of doors to the Custer County Sheriff’s Office. She carried in a cardboard box of personal items for her office. Behind the front desk, Barbara sat knitting something out of thick forest-green yarn. She looked up; a smile bloomed on her face as soon as she saw Kimberley. She dropped her needles and stood from her desk.
“Chief Deputy King,” Barb greeted. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Shit. She was hoping they wouldn’t notice she was late. It was only a few minutes. But in this line of work, a few minutes could be the difference between life and death.
“Sorry about that. I got held up at my daughter’s daycare,” Kimberley admitted. “But it won’t happen again,” she quickly added.
“Your secret is safe with me.” Barb pretended to zip her lips, lock them, and throw away an imaginary key. She let out a little giggle as she walked around the desk carrying a couple of binders.
“Come with me,” she said, walking toward the office area.
Unlocking a set of doors and scanning her badge at another set, Barbara led Kimberley back to the desk area. A deputy with a strong jawline and dark brown skin that had almost a peach undertone sat at the far back left desk. He looked up quickly, his features were sharp and his piercing dark eyes met Kimberley’s.
“Deputy Bearfield, have you met Chief Deputy Kimberley King?” Barb asked. Her tone was light and airy.
Bearfield rose from his desk and stepped out from behind it. His long, black and silky hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. He took a couple of large steps, stopping just in front of Kimberley and Barb. His soa
ring height and broad shoulders contributed to his strong, stern presence. Bearfield slightly lifted his chin and sharpened his eyes in a way that said, “I was here first.” Sam was right, he clearly had a chip on his shoulder, but despite that, there was still something calming to him. Kimberley recalled what Sam had told her about Bearfield—reliable and thorough.
He held out his large hand, looking Kimberley up and down for a moment, sizing her up. Then his dark eyes landed on hers. “I’m Deputy Drew Bearfield. Been on the force for eight years.”
Kimberley shook his hand. There was no point in getting into a pissing contest with him. The best route was just to get him to like working for her, win him over. “I’m Chief Deputy Kimberley King. Been on the force for eight minutes.”
Bearfield tilted his head, the corner of his lip perking up into a half-smile.
“She’s funny,” Barb said with a laugh.
“She is,” Bearfield said. “I hear you came here from the NYPD.”
It was obvious to Kimberley he was trying to determine whether or not she had earned or would earn his respect. But she’d play along.
“That’s right. Ten years in the NYPD, the last seven of them as a homicide detective.”
He brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it for a moment. “Impressive. Why d’you leave then? Chief Deputy of Custer County, Oklahoma, is quite the step-down from an NYPD homicide detective.” Bearfield tilted his head, slightly squinting the black marbles between his lids.
“You’re right, it is a step-down,” Kimberley raised her chin, “but it was a step-up for my daughter.”
The intensity in his eyes melted away. He bit at the inside of his lower lip, seemingly unsure as to what to say to that.
“Well, welcome. As far as cases go, I’m working on paperwork for a DUI and a disorderly conduct. Then I’ll be back out patrolling.” He gave a slight nod.
“Good. I look forward to working with you, Bearfield. It was nice meeting you.” Kimberley sidestepped around him with Barb following behind.
“Hey,” Bearfield called out.
Kimberley turned back.
“I look forward to working with you too,” he said with a small smile.
She had won him over for now. Kimberley gave a small smile back and turned around.
She noticed the lights in Sam’s office were off before entering her own office to the right. On her desk sat a large blueberry muffin and a mug of steaming hot coffee. Barb set the binders beside it and closed the office door behind her.
“Bearfield is a very nice man, not like that jackass Lodge,” Barb said, shaking her head and twisting up her lips.
“So, I’ve heard.”
“Black coffee just the way you like it, and I baked muffins fresh this morning.” Barb motioned to her desk, “There’s more in the break room,” she whispered, as if it were a secret just for Kimberley.
“Thank you, Barb. You didn’t have to do that.” Kimberley was taken aback by how kind this woman was, like a grandma for the sheriff’s station.
She walked around her desk and set her box of stuff down.
“No one has to do anything for anyone else… but where’s the fun in that?” Barb smiled.
Kimberley assumed Barb was the type of woman who had a piece of wisdom for every situation and if it came with coffee and baked goods, she could get used to it. Though the waistline of her clothing might not.
“I’ve stocked your wardrobe with several uniforms, undershirts and shoes.” Barb gestured with her hand toward the closet. “I estimated your size, so let me know if I’m wrong. I’m usually not.” She winked.
Kimberley walked to the wardrobe and opened it, revealing five hanging perfectly pressed sheriff’s uniforms. A utility belt hung on the hook of the door. Handcuffs, a baton, radio, taser, pepper spray and a few other items were sitting inside a box. The bottom shelf had two pairs of black Galls athletic shoes and one pair of tactical boots. Kimberley thumbed through the uniforms, checking the sizes of the tops and pants. She bent down and checked the shoe sizes. Barb was spot on with everything.
She turned and smiled at Barb. “These are perfect.”
“Told ya, I’m rarely wrong,” Barb said.
“I hung that mirror up for you too.” Barb pointed at the long mirror hung on the inside of the left door.
Kimberley caught her reflection in it. She was right about how she thought she looked: tired. Like she hadn’t slept at all. Her long dark hair was pulled into a mess of a ponytail. Her full lips were still chapped, despite having applied Carmex to them half a dozen times this morning. The little bit of mascara she flicked over her eyelashes and the tinted moisturizer she rubbed all over her face made her look a little put together. Dressed in blue jeans and a white tee, she didn’t look the part of a chief deputy yet.
“One of the binders contains all the typical HR-type stuff. Employee handbook. Rules and regulations. Yadda yadda, it’s a bore of a read. The smaller one is what Sam mentioned yesterday. It’s a bit more exciting, so I’d recommend switching it up between the two.” She smiled. “It’s pertinent information for you concerning the town and the town hoodlums, as I like to call them.” Barb twisted up her lips. “Always a bad apple or two in the bunch,” she said, instantly untwisting her lips and returning a small, welcoming smile to her face.
“Thanks for the advice and the hospitality.” Kimberley nodded, walking away from the wardrobe and pulling her box from the floor to set it on the desk.
Barb took a seat and looked up at Kimberley, her face completely lit up. “So, you mentioned you had a daughter? Tell me all about her.”
Kimberley hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t one to open up about her personal life. “Well, her name is Jessica.”
“Ohh, I just love that name.”
“She’s sixteen months old.”
“Such a good age.” Barb clapped her hands together.
“Umm… she loves coloring and always wants to play with anything I have in my hands,” Kimberley said with a laugh.
“That doesn’t change with age.” Barb shook her head. “I’ve got a five-year-old grandson. He damn near poked his eye out with my knitting needle one time and he’s unraveled my yarn balls on numerous occasions. It’s why I’m so gray.” Barb pointed to her curly gray hair. “I swear it’d be a beautiful blond if it weren’t for that little rascal.” She laughed.
“Looks like I have a lot to look forward to.” Kimberley cracked a smile.
“Jessica sounds sweet. I’d love to meet her sometime.”
“Of course.”
Barb stood from her chair. “I’ll leave you to get settled. I’m sure I’ve missed a half dozen calls already. Sam will be in soon to issue your badge and firearm. He got caught up with a traffic violation on his way in, so he’s running later than you.” Barb raised an eyebrow. “Anything else you need right away?”
Kimberley looked around the room and then back at Barb. “Nope. All good here.”
“Great. I’ll be in the front or just press zero on your desk phone. Go ahead and get settled in,” she said, backing out of the office.
“Detective King, settling in I see.”
Kimberley glanced up to find Sam standing in the doorway of her office. He had a box in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. A small smile spread on his face as their eyes met.
“I am.” She nodded. “Just giving the office a little bit of a personal touch.” She motioned to the frame and box of stuff on her desk.
Sam took a couple of large steps into the office. He set down his mug of coffee and hovered his hand over a framed picture of Jessica. “May I?”
Kimberley nodded. He picked it up and turned it over, looking at the photo. His eyes tightened for a brief second, so brief Kimberley almost missed it.
“She’s beautiful,” he said, scanning the photo once more before returning it to its original position. “I bet she keeps you busy.”
“You have no idea,” Kimberley said wearily.
&nbs
p; Sam’s eyes tightened slightly once again, but he relaxed them and cleared his throat with a small cough.
“You met Bear?”
“Yes.” Bear. She liked the shortened nickname.
“And he didn’t give you any grief?”
“A small amount of grief was given, but it’s all good,” Kimberley said.
“Good.”
Sam tapped the black box with his fingers and then held it out to her.
“Sorry, I didn’t have time to wrap it,” he said with a smile.
Kimberley took it from him and lifted the cover, revealing a silver .38 caliber Smith & Wesson revolver tucked inside.
“What’s this?” She looked up at him.
“Your service firearm.” He gave her a quizzical look.
“You guys don’t carry pistols?” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.
“No, revolvers are traditional for a sheriff’s office and they’re reliable, since they never jam.” He folded his arms in front of his chest.
“What if you need to reload quickly?”
“Ha. Most of the deputies on my force have never even fired their gun, let alone needed to reload it. Aside from Deputy Hill, our sharp foot shooter.”
“Then you won’t mind if I carry this instead?”
Kimberley pulled a black case from the box on top of her desk. She unclipped the clasps and opened it, revealing an all-black Glock 9mm.
