Yeah, he had some in-house personnel problems in the sheriff’s department—the most urgent concern one that involved a significant amount of missing cash in a drug case—but he was dealing with them.
He certainly had a few enemies among the criminal element in his county. Who in law enforcement didn’t? Suspects he had investigated and arrested would probably top that list, followed by the people who loved them.
A few powerful people were on that list as well, including Bill Newbold, a wealthy rancher and county commissioner Marsh had had a run-in with a few weeks earlier over a neighbor’s claim he was overreaching his water rights.
Marsh could have handled that matter a little more delicately, but he’d never much liked Newbold and figured the man used his political position to line his own pockets. Attempted vehicular homicide, though? He couldn’t countenance it.
Maybe he was being too naive.
Marshall would never claim his life was perfect. He had made his share of mistakes—one huge one that was never far from his mind, especially lately. But he never expected to become a target of deadly force, until somebody in a snowy parking lot set out to show him how very wrong he was.
When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the sound of that engine gunning, the tires spinning on slush and gravel.
It wasn’t an accident caused by weather and nerves, despite what the investigator with the state police wanted to believe. How could it be? Someone had lured him to an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of Shelter Springs, baiting the trap with the promise of a lead in a long-cold missing persons case he worked when he first started at the Lake Haven Sheriff’s Department as a deputy fresh out of the military.
When he arrived, of course no one had been there. Marsh had walked around the dilapidated building to see if he was missing something and that was when he heard the engine gun from behind him. He turned just as the SUV headed straight for him and had barely been able to leap away at the last minute to avoid a direct hit.
He hadn’t been quite fast enough and the vehicle had struck his right leg. The combination of the impact and his own attempt to twist away had done a number on his leg. The X-ray looked like somebody had smashed his leg with a hammer, and the grim tally included a compound fracture of his ankle and multiple smaller fractures all the way up to below his knee.
He had been too busy trying not to pass out from the pain and hadn’t caught much that would identify the vehicle, except the color—white—and the general make—American-made late-model small SUV.
As for the driver, in the dark and the snow and from Marshall’s angle on the ground, he had seen nothing except a dark shape wearing a ski mask. He did have one small piece of evidence he hoped would lead in the right direction, but it was too early to tell.
The state police investigator seemed to think the anonymous tipster had chickened out at the last minute and tried to drive away but slid into Marshall because of the snowy conditions and had subsequently panicked and raced off into the night.
Marsh wasn’t buying it. Why insist on meeting there, in a relatively isolated spot without security cameras or witnesses?
No. Somebody had tried to take him out.
He sat back on the sofa, head pounding and his eyes gritty with exhaustion.
Why?
That was the question he couldn’t get out of his head. What the hell was all this about? Who hated him enough to want him gone?
He took a sip of water and shifted on the sofa, fruitlessly searching for a more comfortable spot.
He hated this, sitting here helpless instead of going after the son of a bitch who had done this to him. Worse, he was on mandatory leave for at least three weeks, since Newbold had pushed the other commissioners to insist he take sick leave until the New Year.
They couldn’t stop him from investigating on his own. He would make a list and start eliminating suspects, one by one. Cade would help him and so would Ruben Morales, his second in command.
Not right now. He was too damn tired and sore to do much more than sit here and try to find the energy to make it to his bedroom.
His cell phone rang before he could force himself to grab the crutches and get up.
He should have made Andie Montgomery leave it somewhere out of his reach. He thought about ignoring it, but she was right, there were about a hundred missed calls and texts on there. It seemed cowardly to continue ignoring all of them.
He glanced at the readout and saw it was Wynona. With a sigh, he picked it up.
“Hey, Wyn,” he said.
“About time you answered your phone! I was just about to pack Pete into the car and drive down there.”
“Glad you didn’t. We’ve got a storm moving in fast.”
“So do we, but what else am I supposed to do when you won’t call me back? For all I knew, you were lying on the floor unconscious somewhere.”
How humiliating, that Andrea Montgomery with the lovely eyes had found him after that little spill. Had she called Wyn the moment she left the house to tell her?
“My phone didn’t have a charge. Sorry to worry you. I’m not on the floor. I’m currently getting ready to eat what looks like some delicious stew made by your friend.”
“Andie stopped by to check on you? Oh, I’m so glad. I didn’t like the idea of you in that house alone, just hours after surgery.”
“It was totally unnecessary for you to hire a babysitter for me. I can take care of myself.”
“Extenuating circumstances. So tell me what happened. All I know is what I’ve heard from Cade, bits and pieces I’ve had to pry out of him.”
He would rather she didn’t know anything at all, but Wyn always seemed to have her ear to the ground. Until a few months earlier, she had been a police officer herself and had many connections in the local law enforcement community—not to mention that she was engaged to his best friend, who just happened to be the chief of police of Haven Point.
And, yeah, the two of them being together still freaked him out, though they seemed happy enough.
“What have you heard?”
“Something about you heading out to meet a CI and ending up on the wrong side of the CI’s grille.”
“Yeah. That’s about the size of it.”
“And the guy behind the wheel just sped off? You didn’t get any kind of a look at him that might help identify him?”
“Not really.”
He didn’t tell her he was able to get a partial plate, which was how Ruben, working under the radar, was able to ascertain the vehicle was reported stolen from a Boise box store parking lot two days earlier.
Wyn didn’t need to know all the details of the investigation—at least not until he had something concrete to go on.
“We’ve got a few leads we’re following, but it’s early days yet in the investigation.”
“You shouldn’t have any leads. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
He glanced around his family room, where he had a feeling he would be spending entirely too much time for the immediate future.
“I couldn’t be taking it any more easy than I am right now, unless I were comatose.”
“Good. I’m sure that’s just what the doctor ordered.”
It was, but he also didn’t want to admit that to his bossy younger sister.
“What do you need? Gelato from Carmela’s? Barbara Serrano’s zuppa tuscano? I can have the Helping Hands hook you up with anything that would help you get through the next few days.”
More than anything, he wanted to be left alone. Knowing his sister, that was a wish that was doomed from the start.
“I don’t need anything. Thanks for worrying about me, but I’m fine, really. I’m managing okay on the crutches. At least I’ve only fallen once.”
“That’s not very reassuri
ng,” Wyn said. He could almost hear the frown in her voice. “I would still feel better if you would let Andrea check in on you, at least these first few days home from the hospital. I know you’re a tough guy, but sometimes even tough guys need a little TLC.”
“I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary, really. I’ll be just fine.”
“You’d say that even if you had two broken legs, wouldn’t you?”
“Can’t say. How about we don’t break the other one to test your theory, though?”
Wynona snorted. “Sometimes you’re so much like Dad, it’s freaky.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he answered. He could only try to be half the man John Bailey was. His father had been the best person Marshall knew. He had taught all his sons—and his daughters, come to that—everything they needed to know about being good cops and, more important, how to be decent people.
For a raw, unguarded moment, his heart ached for his father, for lost possibilities, for all the questions he could never ask John now about how to go forward with the rest of his life.
“It is a compliment, mostly. As bad as things were those last few years, the happiest I saw him was that day you won the election last year.”
He wasn’t sure if his father had even understood that Marshall had decided to run for sheriff after John’s good friend announced his retirement. He liked to think so, but his father hadn’t spoken a word since surviving a gunshot wound to the brain on the job.
“I’ll say this for you, though—you’re every bit as stubborn as our darling father. Seriously, what’s the harm in having Andie stop in a few times a day?”
He pictured Andrea with her auburn hair, her big green eyes, that air of fragile loveliness about her that called to a man’s deepest protective impulses. The same impulses that had never brought him anything but trouble.
“It was kind of her to bring dinner tonight, but I barely know the woman, Wynnie. She has enough on her plate with those kids of hers to have to worry about checking up on me.”
“She assured me she doesn’t mind.”
“What else is she going to say to you?” he pointed out. “You took a bullet for her.”
“Not really. It only grazed me.”
“Still. The woman obviously feels a great sense of obligation to you. It doesn’t seem fair to emotionally blackmail her into helping out your brother.”
“Oh, stop it. You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, turning this around to make it seem like I did something wrong by asking her to help me out, since I can’t be there?”
“Not wrong. Just not necessary.”
“I get that you want to go into hermit mode and keep everyone away while you hunker down and lick your wounds. Cade would do the same thing.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he muttered.
She sighed. “Face it, my brother, you need help. You’ve got a badly broken leg that requires serious pain medication. You live alone and you can’t get around well or go to the store or shovel your own driveway. Since you were inconsiderate enough to get hurt when none of the members of your family can step up to help, having Andie stop by a few times a day is the next best thing, short of hiring a CNA to be with you around the clock.”
He didn’t answer, simply because he couldn’t come up with any words to counter her argument. He wanted to think it was the pain medication making his head feel like somebody had stuffed it full of steel wool, but he had a feeling it might have been more than that.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a slim chance his sister was right on this one.
“If the situation had been reversed,” she pressed, “you would have insisted on finding one of your friends to check on me.”
“Right. And who knows?” he said drily. “You might have ended up engaged to one of them.”
Laughter rippled through the phone. “Life is crazy, isn’t it?”
The last twenty-four hours had been the craziest he had endured in a long time.
“I know you don’t want Andie there, but it’s only for a few days and it would make me feel better, until I can finish things up here and come back to keep an eye on you. I’ll try to speak to my thesis adviser tomorrow and see if I can sneak away early.”
“Don’t do that.” He knew how important Wynona considered this dream of taking her life in a new direction. He wouldn’t be able to stomach the guilt if she had trouble with her graduate studies because of him.
“So will you let Andie come back?”
He sighed. Apparently he was no more immune to emotional blackmail than his lovely neighbor. “Fine. She can come back.”
“Thanks. Seriously. That’s a huge relief to me. Cade says he’ll stop in when he can, but you know how crazy things are this time of year.”
The sheriff’s department was the same. He had a million things to do before the end of the year—and that wasn’t counting the investigation into the missing evidence.
Damn Bill Newbold anyway. How was Marsh supposed to endure three weeks of enforced medical leave?
As an elected position, the sheriff of Lake Haven County technically reported to the voting public. The county commission couldn’t legally stop him from reporting to work—but the county commission oversaw all county departments and had budgetary control over his department. Newbold was pissed enough right now that Marsh wouldn’t put it past the man to do all he could to block the badly needed deputy pay increase Marsh had been wrangling for since his election.
For the sake of his department, he could roll over for a few weeks, do as much work as possible from home.
“I’ve got to run,” Wynona said. “Pete apparently needs to go out. Are you sure you’re all right alone tonight?”
“Perfectly.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that. Be nice to Andie, okay? You know things haven’t been easy for her.”
Yeah, he knew. His gut twisted. Detective Robert Warren had sat in the county jail for months after his plea deal and had been transferred to the state penitentiary only a few weeks earlier. Marsh had purposely kept his interactions with the man to a minimum and had made sure Warren had no cause to claim his treatment at the Lake Haven County Jail was anything less than proper and humane, especially considering the sheriff’s own personal connection to one of his victims. Wynona.
It was one thing to know in the abstract what Warren had done to Andrea Montgomery. Facts on a report, testimony during his sentencing hearing. It was something else entirely when he thought about that soft, sweet-smelling woman and her cute kids having to live in fear for the better part of a year because she had once trusted the wrong man.
CHAPTER THREE
“THESE ARE ABSOLUTELY PERFECT,” Andie exclaimed the next day as she looked at the cheery watercolors laid out on her neighbor’s kitchen table, a garden of flowers blooming with soft, lovely color to take the edge off the wintry day.
She shook her head in amazement. “We had one short conversation about you designing something for me, that’s all, yet you came back with exactly the right concept for my clients.”
“Oh, I’m so happy you think something will work!” Louise Jacobs glowed with pleasure. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Ever. I’ve always just painted for my own enjoyment, really. It was such a challenge—but a wonderful one.”
“I knew you could do it. I have loved the watercolors you sell at Point Made Flowers and Gifts and I had a suspicion my clients in Boise would, too. It’s the perfect mood and tone for their natural remedy spa services, exactly what I wanted, and I am certain they’re going to love it.”
“I hope so.”
“Trust me. I’ve been trying for weeks to capture the right tone and mood for their website redesign and ad campaign, but nothing seemed to feel right. I couldn’t get to the heart of
it, but you’ve managed it. You have a gift, my friend.”
Louise beamed. “I’m so happy you like them.”
Andie saw the possibility of a very successful partnership moving forward. “If you’re all right with it, I’ll buy each one for the price we talked about.”
“Oh, you don’t have to pay me anything. I was happy to do it. I should pay you, actually. I needed the distraction and it was so nice to be back in my studio. I haven’t been able to pick up my brushes in months. Not since...”
Her voice trailed off, eyes bleak with grief. Andie touched her hand. “I’m so sorry, my dear. How are you doing?”
Louise looked down at the bouquet of watercolors for a moment, then offered a strained smile. “I’ll be glad when the holidays are over. Everyone told me how hard all the firsts would be. It’s so true.”
“Yes. It is.”
Jason had died in November, the week before Thanksgiving. Andie had no clear idea how she’d made it through that first December. She had been in a fog of shock and disbelief that her perfect world had imploded so wildly.
Last December had been tough in its own way, for reasons she didn’t want to think about.
Louise and Herm’s only daughter had died just five months earlier. No doubt the wound still felt jagged and raw.
“I wish we didn’t have to celebrate the holidays this year, but Herm wants us to go ahead with all our usual traditions, even though none of us has much holiday spirit. He thinks we need to build new traditions with Christopher, now that he’s living with us.”
Andie looked around the comfortable open-plan house, artfully decorated with greenery, ribbons, candles in slim holders. “It’s so warm and cozy in here. I’m sure that’s helped him feel more at home.”
As if on cue, a thin, gangly boy with shoulder-length dark hair and a semipermanent scowl wandered into the kitchen. Louise’s thirteen-year-old grandson stopped short when he spotted the two of them.
“Oh. I didn’t know somebody was here.”
Snowfall on Haven Point Page 3
