“Okay, Sam, that’s good. It sounds like you’ve really gotten to know the kids. They’re lucky to have you. I will have to do some checking but I hope it’s not one of them. I really do,” he added in response to her skeptical expression.
She remained silent, lost in her own thoughts. Jake walked around the shop some more, checked the outside and made notes in his notebook.
“What about anyone else, neighbors you may have had a run-in with, angry customers?” he asked as Sam eventually joined him outside.
Sam had to laugh at that. “Well, I don’t really have any neighbors as you can see. The closest ones are on the other side of those trees,” she said pointing. “It’s a young family from the Twin Cities, I’ve only met them once. I don’t think they’re here very often.”
“My property extends pretty far on the other side so I don’t even know who is closest to me in that direction. I remember when we were kids there was a family with a cabin next door, the Andersons. They had a few kids around our ages and we’d hang out together sometimes swimming and goofing off. The place is gone and I guess my grandfather bought the property at some point. I was surprised when Kathleen first walked me around the lot and showed me how far the property line extended. It looked so different without a cabin there.”
Jake didn’t know the details of what happened with the cabin or if there was even anything to know. He’d have to check with his father on that one. If there had been problems or disputes, the former sheriff would know, he was sure of that.
“As far as customers, I haven’t had many and I think they’ve all been happy. Certainly none of them have been angry, unless you count Max Foster,” she said with a chuckle.
“What happened with Max?” Jake couldn’t imagine the old man getting angry about work Sam had done for him. He was a crotchety sort but didn’t have a temper.
“Oh, I’m kidding, he wasn’t angry. He was just a little put off when he came to ‘Sam’s Woodworking’ looking for someone to make him a new mailbox in the shape of a train car and found out Sam was actually Samantha. He mumbled a few things about a woman doing a man’s job but I showed him a few things I’ve done and finally convinced him I could handle making a mailbox.”
“That sounds like Max. I’m pretty sure he’s still of the opinion that women shouldn’t do much other than cook and clean and raise children.”
The conversation lagged as Sam watched Jake poke around outside the shop, walk up and down the drive, and even take a look in the trash cans. When they headed back inside and she was forced to face the destruction once again, grief threatened to take over.
“I don’t know if I can repair all of the kids’ projects,” she said dejectedly. “Some pieces are so damaged I’m afraid they’re a total loss.” She walked toward the cabinet where the projects had been stored and began to pick up pieces from the shelves and from the floor in front. “There’s so much cleanup, I’ll have to try the power tools and make sure they’re all still working properly and aren’t dangerous. I’m just glad I delivered the cabinet I was repairing last night or that probably would have been destroyed, too.
“You didn’t tell me you went out last night. What time was that?”
“I think it was around six o’clock but I came back to the shop after making the delivery. Nothing was out of place then. I stayed in here until well after dark working on the sketch.”
Being reminded of the sketch made her heart sink even further. Would she be able to recreate it? She thought so, but the idea of the entire evening’s work lost was a lot to bear. And it had been so perfect.
Shaking off the sadness, she told herself she needed to get to work. “Well,” she began in an upbeat tone Jake knew was forced, “this place isn’t going to clean itself so unless you have more questions, I really need to get to work.”
“I think I have everything I need for now but I may have more questions for you later.” He liked thinking about there being a later, another chance to spend time with her.
“Okay, Sheriff, then you better get back to work. I don’t suppose crime in Misty Lake will come to a halt because you’re busy here.”
The teasing in her voice didn’t reach her eyes. She looked devastated and exhausted already from the stress. As he watched her begin straightening and putting tools back in their proper places he said impulsively, “Come with me tomorrow. It’s Saturday, I have the day off, and you need a break.”
“What?” she said, tilting her head in confusion as she turned to face him. “What are you talking about? Come with you where?”
“It’s a surprise,” he answered, getting into the spirit of things and wanting desperately to lift hers. “Just wear a swim suit.”
“Are you crazy? I have hours and hours of work to do,” she said, waving her hands around the room. “I don’t have time for a break. I need to try to repair the kids’ things before Monday, I really don’t want them to see this.”
That was the worst part for her, he understood. She didn’t want the kids to be disappointed. As he looked at her standing there in an old pair of cut-off shorts and a faded Minnesota Twins t-shirt with sawdust clinging to it, his heart gave a lurch. He was going to put a sparkle back in those eyes no matter how long it took.
“You have today, tomorrow morning, and all day Sunday to work on things. And I’ll help. I may not be able to do what you do with a hammer and saw but I’m pretty handy with a broom.”
She considered him, standing there looking at her with—well, she wasn’t exactly sure what—in his eyes. And she liked what she saw. He was fidgeting like a child at Christmas waiting for her reply. Because she couldn’t stand to see him suffer, she agreed.
“Okay, a break Saturday afternoon. I can do that.” The look of relief on his face had her heart softening even more. “But a swim suit? Really?”
“Trust me, you won’t be sorry,” he grinned as he rocked back on his heels. “Now, where’s that broom?”
7
They swept, sorted, organized, and repaired. Jake had done his best to clean up the stain spills on the floor and had been helpful with the lifting needed to right an overturned cabinet. He had watched as Sam carefully went over the panel saw inch by inch and shared in her joy as she announced that, other than some dents and cosmetic damage, it looked as though the machine was undamaged.
Jake decided it was time to get back to the office and to leave Sam to start some of the repair work that was ahead of her. As he was washing his hands in the bathroom that had remained, for some reason, mostly untouched by the vandal, he noticed a crumpled up piece of paper behind the wastebasket. He headed back to the main workshop as he opened it, trying to decipher what it was he was looking at.
“Sam, I found this in the bathroom,” he began as he headed to where she was working on assessing the damage to Jackson’s jewelry box.
“Hmmm?” she answered, her attention on the jewelry box.
Jake laid the paper on the workbench and smoothed it out. Sam’s hands stilled as she realized what Jake had lain in front of her. “The hutch!” she shrieked, grabbing the paper and throwing her arms around Jake before she realized what she was doing.
Caught off guard, it took Jake a moment to realize he was holding Sam in his arms. Deciding not to let the moment pass, he held her tighter and felt his pulse quicken as he inhaled her scent—the hint of coconut from her shampoo mixed with the soft floral scent of her perfume.
Dammit, Sam thought, what was she thinking? That was the problem, she rationalized, she hadn’t thought. When Jake laid the sketch in front of her she’d over-reacted to the first bit of good news she’d had all day. Nothing more, just a knee-jerk reaction. Then why did it feel so right? She stiffened, telling herself she needed to back away, that this was a mistake she wasn’t willing to make. As she started to shift, Jake tightened his arms around her and she felt her knees threaten to give out. She held on and allowed herself, just for a moment, not to think, just to feel.
When Jake felt
her give in and melt against him he stopped the celebratory cheer that was threatening to escape by pressing his lips to hers. He felt her shock when their lips first met and then her slow warming and response to him. Maybe there was some truth to the whole stars and fireworks thing, he thought. If someone told him the town’s Fourth of July celebration was happening right now in Sam’s yard, he wouldn’t doubt it for a moment.
Warning bells sounded in Sam’s head as Jake pulled her closer and kissed her. She needed to stop this before it went any further. Then why was she kissing him back? She needed to concentrate on the fact that this was a really bad idea. Then why did it feel like the most natural thing in the world?
Like a bucket of cold water over his head, the realization suddenly hit that this wasn’t the way he wanted things to happen with Sam. He was taking advantage of her when she’d just been through something traumatic and needed a friend. Slowly, he drew away, taking a deep breath and using one hand to steady himself on the workbench. He was shakier than he cared to admit.
Sam kept her eyes closed for a long moment, then looked up at him with a combination of desire and confusion. It took all of Jake’s willpower not to grab her again.
She found it took more brainpower than she was currently capable of harnessing to form a rational thought. Later, when she was alone, she would try to make sense out of what just happened but for now, she needed to diffuse the situation. But looking at Jake seemed to turn her into a mindless bundle of desire and she had to clasp her hands tightly behind her back to keep from embarrassing herself further.
“Look,” she finally managed, “that was my fault, I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. I guess I just over-reacted to you finding my sketch. Stupid, really…”
Jake studied her for a minute, oddly pleased at the blush rising in her cheeks. So, it had affected her, too, he thought. “You sure spend a lot of time apologizing. Why do you think that is?”
It wasn’t the response she had expected and she didn’t know how to reply. If he had shot back with a smart comment about her only doing what she knew they both wanted or some such nonsense, she could have handled him. As it was, she just stared.
“Listen, Sam, I’m more to blame than you are but you can’t deny there was…something there. It might take some time to figure out what, but we have plenty of time,” he said with a smile so sweet it almost had her throwing herself back into his arms.
She had to get him out of there. Now. She decided to ignore the whole situation and act as though nothing had happened. “Well, I would imagine you need to get to work. Aren’t people wondering where the sheriff is?” she asked briskly.
“My office knows where I am and that I’m working on a case. They can handle things without me.” He studied her and watched her fight the urge to squirm under his gaze. God, she was gorgeous. He gave himself a mental shake. “But, I should be getting back. I want you to give Mike Jameson over at the hardware store a call like we discussed. He’ll come out here and install some decent locks for you. You may want to consider a security system, too. Misty Lake’s a safe place but you’re pretty isolated out here and with you living alone…”
Before he could finish, she straightened her spine and sputtered, “I’ve told you and everyone else who’s been out here that I can take care of myself. I’m not going to be scared off by some nut job who thinks it’s funny to damage what’s mine.”
“I know, Sam. I don’t for a minute think you can’t take care of yourself but I also think it only makes sense to do what you can to stay safe. Get new locks and give some thought to a security system. I can give you a name of someone who will do a good job if you decide to go ahead with it. And, I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you have a phone?”
“What do you mean, do I have a phone? I called the sheriff’s office, didn’t I?” she scoffed, still miffed at him for thinking she couldn’t handle herself.
“I mean do you have a landline in the house? Cell phone reception can be spotty out here, it would be a good idea to have a backup phone.”
“I guess you’re right about that. There have been a couple of times when I’ve been down by the lake or walking around the yard with Rigi when the reception has cut in and out,” she admitted. “I’ll look into it. I will!” she added when he raised a brow.
“Good. Now, I really am going to go. Take it easy out here, you don’t need to get everything done today. And remember, I’ll be here around noon tomorrow to pick you up,” he added with a devilish grin.
“I’ll remember. Thank you for your help, Jake, I really appreciate it,” she said sincerely.
He nodded as he got in his car to leave. If she only knew he felt like the one who should be saying thank you. In spite of the circumstances, it was the best morning he had had in a very long time. He called out the window as he backed out, “Keep Rigi with you!” then sped away before she could tell him again she didn’t need anyone watching out for her.
She stood and watched his car until it was out of sight then watched nothing for a good five minutes more. When she finally turned and went back inside the shop, she had convinced herself anything that had happened earlier was a one-time thing, chalked up to her emotions running high, and it would certainly never happen again. She was far too sensible to let her emotions reign supreme over her common sense. Getting involved with a man, giving her heart to someone only to have it shattered, as it surely would be, was simply out of the question. She had dealt with enough hurt and loss to know steering clear of potentially painful situations was a must. Nobody, not even a sexy sheriff who apparently was capable of turning her bones to liquid, was going to change her mind. Tomorrow she would make it clear they were friends and friends only. With that, she tackled the work ahead of her with a vengeance.
Jake didn’t stop to talk on his way into the office, merely waved away questions with the flick of a wrist and spent the next two hours hunched over his desk making notes and trying mightily to focus on the case and not on Sam. He made a call to Project Strong Start and scheduled an appointment for later that afternoon to speak with Tom Lindahl, the head of the camp. He was determined to dig deeper into the kids’ pasts.
He had also spoken with a couple colleagues in the Twin Cities who were very familiar with a few of this year’s campers. Sadly, several of them already had long records of run-ins with the law, documented drug use, and gang involvement. Jake was waiting to hear back from a friend on the Minneapolis police force who knew as much as anyone about the current status of gangs in the city. He was out of town until Monday so there wasn’t much Jake could do but wait.
Jake had hated leaving Sam alone. It was obvious whoever was responsible for the trouble at her place was becoming more violent. There was no longer a question in Jake’s mind that all of the incidents were related. From tipped over garbage cans and a broken mailbox to the vicious destruction of her shop, the seriousness of the attacks was escalating. The fact that everything had occurred at night told Jake a couple things. First, the guilty party hadn’t yet reached the point where harming Sam personally was part of his plan. He was sneaking around under cover of darkness hoping to frighten her. Second, he was afraid of being seen. There was no indication he had come near the house, focusing his efforts on the shop and areas out of sight of the house. Jake’s best guess was that he was far away during the daylight hours. Usually in cases like this, the perpetrator was someone with a personal grudge so the victim would be able to identify him if he were spotted. Third, and most unsettling, was the likelihood that things would continue to escalate until he achieved his goal, whatever that may be.
The fact that Sam knew so few people in town made Jake think it likely that one or more of the kids from Project Strong Start were responsible. As much as Sam didn’t want to believe it, not all of the kids could be helped by a summer at camp. Many had been forced to attend the camp or had had it offered as an alternative to juvenile detention. Sam wanted to believe that deep down, everyone was good, and as much a
s he’d like to agree, he had seen too much throughout his career to know it wasn’t a reality.
Jake also searched back in the police records for cases of vandalism at the lake. There were a few scattered over the years, most taking place in the winter when many of the cabins were closed up and there were fewer people around. There had been a string of small thefts a few summers ago but a drifter had been caught with the stolen goods in his possession and the case closed. Serious crime in Misty Lake was almost unheard of. The one murder had been a domestic situation twenty years ago and still came up in conversation from time to time among those who were old enough to remember. Jake knew they were fortunate. It was a community where neighbors looked out for one another and people still felt comfortable leaving their doors unlocked although Jake had been doing his best to convince them to do otherwise.
Jake finally leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. He would need to talk to his deputies and order extra patrols around Sam’s place at night. He’d be taking a turn or two himself. He was going to send Marc back out to talk to some of the kids he knew would confide in him to see if there had been any talk yet of someone pulling pranks or causing damage. Fred, the oldest member of his team, was good at listening to gossip in the town’s bars and restaurants and there wasn’t a person in town he didn’t know and know well. If there was something to hear, he’d hear it. He pushed back from his desk, grabbed his notepad, and went to talk to his team.
Later that afternoon, Jake pulled his patrol car into the lot in front of the lodge housing the offices of Project Strong Start. As he got out of his car, he was aware of the stares and whispers from the kids milling around the outdoor rec area. The volleyball game came to a halt as Jake made his way toward the sand court. “What’s the score?” he asked.
It was quiet for a few seconds until a short boy who looked to be about fifteen and sporting bright red hair and freckles answered, pointing to the other side, “They’re winning but it’s cuz they have one more player than we do.”
Misty Lake: Book One in the Misty Lake Series Page 6
