“With what?”
“Kidney problems,” she said. “They’re just getting started with testing.”
Jarrett sighed. Getting old sucked. There was no way around it.
Glenn and Patty Schmidt were close in age to his own parents. He’d grown up with Kelsey, their daughter, and had even dated her briefly. In sixth grade. They’d never even kissed. The houses in the area of Aspen Falls where Jarrett had grown up were on larger lots, most of them between a half acre to close to five, so it wasn’t as if they were sitting on top of each other, walking over to borrow a cup of sugar or being lured over by the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers cooking on the grill. No, they weren’t close in proximity to each other, but they’d spent a fair amount of time together over the years, the three kids romping through the fields during summer or hunting for sledding hills during winter, and the four adults gathered around blazing fall bonfires or sharing the odd holiday dinner when get-togethers with extended family weren’t in the cards that year.
Patty and Glenn served as a surrogate aunt and uncle, and hearing that Glenn was sick hit Jarrett like a swift jab to the stomach.
“I didn’t know,” he said slowly, shifting gears from the past to the present, thinking of Glenn. “How’s Patty doing with it? Do they think it’s treatable?”
His mom’s eyes were closed. “They don’t know yet. Patty has her own health issues, too, so I’m sure she’s feeling a little stressed out by everything, especially with not having Kelsey around.”
Kelsey had moved right after high school, to the U for her business degree, and then directly into a job in the cities. She came home often, but a full-time job, along with having a husband and two young kids, meant her visits were few and far between.
“What’s wrong with Patty?” Jarrett asked.
“Thyroid. She’s always had issues with it, I guess, but it’s gotten worse. They’re trying out some new treatment plans to see if they can get it under control.”
Jarrett swallowed back another sigh.
Getting old—and sick—definitely sucked. And based on the rate of illnesses befalling the four semi-elderly people he was closest to, it seemed like an inevitability of aging.
It wasn’t just his parents and their friends, though. He did know that. It wasn’t as if there was this Wheel of Bad Luck that had landed on those two couples. He knew another neighbor, farther down the road, who’d succumbed to cancer a few months after Jarrett’s own dad had passed away. And another neighbor, about three miles away, who’d gone to the cities for a liver transplant.
Illness was inevitable.
Just like dying.
He stole another glance at his mom. Her mouth was slightly open, her jaw slack. She’d fallen asleep.
Jarrett stood up, reaching for the crocheted afghan draped across the back of the couch. Gently, he laid it across her. The air conditioning was pumping cool air through the house, creating a comfortable environment for him, but he imagined she might get chilled if she stayed asleep uncovered for any length of time.
He wondered if he should stay, make sure she was okay. He could text Charlie, tell him they could meet up for lunch another day.
His eyes drifted back to her.
She was out, completely, and he knew she didn’t need him there.
He shoved his computer back into his bag and fished his keys out of his pocket.
He didn’t feel great about leaving her, but he’d be back.
She might not need him right then, but she would soon enough.
That was an inescapable truth he’d had to face these last few months.
A truth that put every other issue currently on the table aside.
Including his job satisfaction.
His life satisfaction, really.
None of that mattered.
Not when what was left of his family needed him.
5
Saturday, June 24
2:30 pm
Jessica couldn’t believe she was sitting alone at a bar.
Okay, so Shorty’s wasn’t exactly a bar—more of a tavern, really. But there were pool tables and mounted televisions, and high-top tables and booths for seating, and of course a long bar that ran the full length of the building, with shelves upon shelves of alcohol on display behind it.
And Jess was sitting at the bar.
Not by herself, considering there were other patrons flanking either side of her, but she hadn’t come with anyone else.
So, technically speaking, she was sitting alone at a bar.
She picked up her beer and took a sip. She wasn’t usually much of a beer drinker, but it was hot and sticky outside, and she’d decided after her shift at the race was over that she would reward herself with a cool shower and an icy cold beer.
She’d taken the shower at the station, stripping out of her sweat-stained uniform and hopping directly into the stream of cool water. With her hair still damp, her face scrubbed clean of both sweat and any residual makeup that hadn’t melted off her face in the late morning heat, she’d changed back into shorts and a T-shirt, slipped on her flip-flops, and drove the short distance to Shorty’s.
Before she left the station, she’d texted Megan, her roommate, to see if she was free to meet, knowing it was probably pointless. Megan was a social worker and was always busy trying to save the world. She rarely had time for anything fun. She was forever volunteering for some charitable cause or another, either in Aspen Falls or the surrounding towns. And if nothing was available to do locally, she had no problem driving an hour into the cities to work on something there.
Sure enough, Megan’s response had confirmed this. She was clearing buckthorn at a local nature preserve. Jess had tried not to roll her eyes.
Of course she was.
Which meant Jess was sitting alone.
In a bar.
The two guys sitting to her right stood up, shoving their glasses toward the end of the bar and dropping a five-dollar bill for the bartender. Jess shifted on her stool, intending to stretch her legs a little now that she wasn’t so cramped, when a group of guys approached who looked like they intended to fill those vacant seats. But there were three of them and only two seats available.
Jess took the hint.
She stood up with her half-empty glass.
“You don’t have to get up,” one of them told her. He was a burly guy, easily six-foot, with a thick graying beard.
“It’s fine,” she told him. “I was ready to move outside, anyway.”
The last thing she wanted was to be squashed by a group of strange men. Especially on a hot summer’s day.
She looped her purse over her shoulder and picked up her beer, heading out to the patio at the back of the tavern. There were a few tables out there, all of them shaded by big umbrellas, and with the sun now firmly in the western sky, the east-facing space would be blessed with shade.
She pulled the door open and stepped outside, her foot stopping in midair as she saw who was seated at one of the tables.
Jarrett Pryor, looking just as handsome as he had earlier that day.
He looked up when the door opened, then back at his drink. And then his eyes met hers again, widening slightly. She forced herself out on to the patio, letting the door swing shut behind her.
His smile was immediately friendly. Almost intimate.
She swallowed.
“You off work already?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Wanna join us?” He motioned to the empty seat at his table. He was sitting with a man who looked vaguely familiar, although Jessica couldn’t quite place where she might have seen him before. His hair was blond, trimmed short, but his neatly trimmed goatee was flecked with gray, suggesting he was probably a few years older than she thought.
“Charlie Fitzgerald,” the man sitting next to Jarrett said as he offered a small wave. “I teach at the community college.”
Jess nodded. Maybe that was where she’d seen him, responding to a call there.
“
You’re welcome to join us,” Jarrett said again, that easy smile of his making her pulse quicken. “Charlie, this is Jessica Claret, an officer with AFPD.”
Charlie looked surprised. “And here I thought you were a student at AFCC.”
Jess smiled at him. She would take that as a compliment, considering she was a few years out from school, and much closer to thirty than to being a college co-ed. “I’ve been with the force for a few years now.”
She looked at Jarrett, his invitation lingering. She was seriously tempted to say yes. But something held her back.
“Thanks for the offer,” she said, “but I think I’m good.” Jarrett’s face fell, and she didn’t know what to make of his reaction. Was he seriously disappointed that she’d turned him down? “It was nice meeting you, Charlie.”
She found a table a few feet away and sat down. She felt more awkward than ever about sitting alone, and immediately second-guessed her decision about Jarrett’s invitation. Should she have said yes? Should she have sat down and talked with the two of them, not as a police officer but as…Jessica?
Too late now, she thought.
She pulled her phone from her purse and scrolled through her different social media sites, trying to keep her mind off the gorgeous guy sitting just a few feet away from her. She didn’t have much luck. Even though her eyes were firmly locked on her screen, she couldn’t help but wonder what Jarrett was doing. Was he watching her? Talking about her?
She grimaced. She was being ridiculous.
He had simply been nice to her at the race. Made small talk with her. She was reacting to his niceness like a lovesick schoolgirl.
She shook her head. She needed to go out on a date. That was her problem; she was sure of it. She’d been so focused on her career that she’d let simple, normal pleasures fall by the wayside. Going out to dinner, going to a movie. Hell, even going to bed with someone. Not that she slept around, she reminded herself, but she wasn’t a prude, either. If a relationship progressed in that manner, that was fine by her.
She sighed. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen back on the whole “I just need to get laid” thing.
She reached for her glass and downed a mouthful of the hoppy IPA she’d ordered. She just needed to finish it and go. Get home and decompress, spend the next day catching up on some much-needed sleep, and stop trying to convince herself that downloading Tinder was even a remotely good idea.
Yes, a good night’s sleep, then start the routine all over again.
She sighed again, a deeper one this time.
The routine that was literally the same old, same old, day in and day out.
The routine that wasn’t going to be changing any time soon.
She adjusted her head just slightly so she could sneak a peek at Jarrett. He wasn’t looking at her, and she felt a stab of disappointment. Instead, he and his friend looked like they were engaged in a serious conversation. Jarrett had a pen in his hands and it was flying across what looked like a square piece of paper. On closer inspection, Jess realized it was a napkin.
She frowned. What was he writing down? Was he working on a story? He’d introduced Charlie as his friend; maybe he was doing a profile piece on him or something?
Her eyes drifted from Jarrett’s hand back to his face. His expression surprised her. His normally friendly, open mien was gone, replaced by narrowed eyes and a firmly locked jaw. He looked like someone who wasn’t enjoying what he was hearing.
Curiosity got the better of her. She shifted again, sliding her chair an inch or two closer to their table. The music was far more muted out here, and besides a couple seated at the table at the far end of the patio, they were the only customers out there.
She rested her hand on her chin and cocked her head in Jarrett and Charlie’s direction.
She couldn’t hear much, just snippets of conversation.
“—connected?”
“—think that?”
“Environmental factors that—”
“I don’t know if—”
“Anything is worth looking into at this point.”
The words spun through her mind.
She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.
Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she’d meant to do it.
She replayed the words again, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. But there was one thing she was pretty sure of.
It sounded an awful lot like Jarrett was investigating something. The question was: what?
She’d never given it much thought before, but she realized that Jarrett’s job as a reporter was similar to the one a detective did. Their jobs were to ask questions, to track down leads…and to report what they found. A reporter’s job was a little different, though. She thought they probably had more freedom in how they chose to pursue the stories they were covering. She knew Jarrett had to cover the race that day, but he’d chosen who he wanted to talk to, who he wanted to photograph. He’d ultimately decide what to include in the article and how he told the story. A detective’s job was a little more cut and dried than that.
But still. She appreciated the similarities.
And because she was curious and had decided long ago that detective was the goal she was striving for, she was eager to know what Jarrett and his friend were talking about. It helped that she was also interested in Jarrett, period.
She got her chance to find out soon enough.
Moments later, Charlie stood up and drained the last of his beer. He slapped Jarrett on the shoulder, glanced in Jessica’s direction—waved when he saw she was looking at him—and then sauntered over to the back entrance to the tavern.
Jarrett had what looked like several napkins spread out in front of him. He was staring at them intently, the frown still etched on his face.
Jessica hesitated. Did she approach him? Ask him what he was working on?
She stood up abruptly, so fast that her hip bumped the table. She felt the blush rise to her cheeks at her clumsiness, but Jarrett didn’t even look in her direction. And he didn’t look up when Jess grabbed her empty beer glass and approached his table. She stood there for a second, glancing down at his writing, but it was such a spidery cursive that she could barely make out any of the words.
She cleared her throat.
He looked up, and the intense look on his face made her draw in a sudden breath. His eyes were steely, his mouth set.
“Oh.” His features relaxed but he didn’t smile. “Hey.”
Jess froze. What the hell was she supposed to say? She’d gotten up the courage to come over to his table because she was curious about what he was working on, but standing there now under his watchful gaze, his expression completely unreadable, she was completely at a loss for words. It didn’t help that the firm set of his jaw and the heat behind his eyes were slowly turning her into a puddle of goo.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, his expression morphing to one of concern.
Jess somehow managed to find her voice. She held up her empty glass. “I’m, uh, going to get another.” She nodded toward his glass. It was empty, too. “You want me to grab you one, too?”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good.” He was clearly distracted.
Jess wanted to know why.
“What are you working on?” she blurted.
He blinked. “What?”
“All those napkins are covered with writing.” She waved her hand at them and the movement sent one spiraling to the ground.
He lurched for it, grabbing it before it hit the pavement.
“Sorry about that.” She smiled, a little flustered. Way to go, Jess. Just knock his stuff to the ground. “Are those for a story or something?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he started gathering the napkins, stacking them into a neat pile.
“I don’t know,” he murmured.
He hadn’t shot her down, but he also wasn’t being terribly forthcoming.
Which wasn’t the Jarrett Pryor she’d seen earlier
. The Jarrett Pryor she’d interacted with earlier, and the man she knew from past observation, seemed to always be talking, always listening, always exchanging information.
She bit her lip, then offered, “I heard something about environmental factors.”
He just nodded.
She glanced at the ground. It was clear that he didn’t want to talk…and she wished she knew why.
Something had changed from when she’d first walked outside to now. The Jarrett who had been friendly and welcoming, both at the race and here at the bar, was gone. The Jarrett who had eyed her with what felt like frank admiration and intense curiosity had disappeared.
She had no idea which version of him was sitting in front of her now.
But she was pretty sure that what he’d written down on those napkins was directly related to his current demeanor.
He folded the napkins and got to his feet, shoving the entire wad in his shorts pocket as he did so.
“Sorry, but I gotta go,” he mumbled, his mind very clearly on something else.
Jessica watched him leave, regretting that she hadn’t sat down with him when he’d invited her to.
Seeing him leave felt like another opportunity she’d just let slip through her fingers.
6
Sunday, June 25
6:30 pm
Jarrett was eating the worst meal in recent memory.
He stared down at the plate in front of him. A bland chicken breast, an overcooked baked potato, and a serving of canned peas stared back at him, almost daring him to take a bite.
He’d tried. One bite of each had been more than enough.
He shifted his attention to the woman sitting next to him. Dorothy Klein was in her sixties and had just retired from the community college last year. She’d worked for several years in the admissions office, and was a friend of Charlie’s. In fact, it was because of Charlie that Jarrett was currently sitting at this woman’s kitchen table, staring at a decidedly unappetizing meal.
Something had come up during their time at Shorty’s. After he’d invited Jess to sit down with them—and had gotten firmly shot down—he’d tried to focus his attention on his friend. They’d talked about mostly inane things—the weather, the Twins’ abysmal record, the race earlier that day. They’d gotten around to asking about families, and Jarrett listened patiently while Charlie raved about how smart Colton, his two-year-old, was. When he was done, he asked Jarrett about Melina, and then about his mom. Jarrett hadn’t wanted to linger on her health concerns, but his friend was interested and kept peppering him with questions.
Dire Straits Page 4
