Small-Town Secrets

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  She settled on a basic mom statement. “Be good.”

  For all of Cody’s bravado, he was still exceedingly slow in opening the door and climbing out of the SUV. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he paused long enough to turn and offer a brave smile and wave.

  Bree waited until Cody was safely inside the building. Then it was her turn, and she headed for the Warm Springs Sheriff’s Department.

  “Hope you’re ready, fella,” she told her K-9 partner as she parked in the department’s parking lot. She paused long enough to loop his chain collar around his neck, complete with a deputy’s shield attached to it.

  Since detectives weren’t required to wear a uniform, she had chosen coffee-colored linen pants and a matching vest, paired with a cream-colored, short-sleeved blouse. Her detective’s shield was clipped to her waistband, and her weapon, settled in a holster against the small of her back, was hidden by the three-quarter-length-sleeve, coffee-colored linen jacket. For easy care, she kept her bright auburn hair layered in short waves, tucked behind her ears. Jinx walked regally at her side.

  “Good morning, Detective Fitzpatrick.” The office receptionist greeted her with a small smile. The nameplate pinned on her chest revealed her name to be Irene. Like the deputies in the station, she wore a navy polo shirt and khaki pants. “I’ll let Sheriff Holloway know you’re here.” She eyed Jinx warily, as if she wasn’t sure Bree’s four-footed partner was safe. “We’ve never had a dog here before.”

  “Jinx is a full-fledged sheriff’s deputy,” Bree reminded her.

  “Detective Fitzpatrick?”

  Bree turned and faced her superior. He, too, was dressed in a navy polo shirt, and his khaki pants had a razor-sharp crease. His dark brown boots were so highly polished she imagined he could use the surface as a mirror. She’d say Roy Holloway was a man who valued his image. She’d even say he was good-looking, with his broad smile, his blue eyes holding a touch of humor. She doubted he was a pushover, though. He looked like he had what it took to keep his people in line. He held out his hand.

  “Sheriff Holloway.” She smiled as she put her hand in his. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to meet the last time I was here. I understand you and your family were on vacation then.”

  “Relaxing at my favorite fishing hole,” he admitted. His eyes dropped to the dog sitting by her side, and again he grinned. “I’m not used to seeing a deputy with four legs.”

  She grinned back. “He would have been perfect if I could have trained him to drive.”

  Roy chuckled. “Come on back to my office and we’ll talk.” He jerked his head toward the rear of the building.

  Bree murmured a command to Jinx, who moved smoothly alongside her. As they walked toward the sheriff’s office, she noticed that the men seated at desks were watching her with undisguised interest.

  “Have a chair,” Roy invited, as he settled behind his desk.

  Bree took the one opposite, with Jinx sitting sedately on his haunches beside her.

  “I’m going to be up front with you,” her boss said crisply, all-business now. “I didn’t think we needed another detective. This county is growing, but I wasn’t thinking of adding anyone to the force just yet.”

  “Token female detective?” she said lightly.

  “Probably. They’ve gotten on the politically correct bandwagon with a vengeance lately,” he admitted. “I’ll be honest with you, Fitzpatrick—I’m not one for surprises. I like to know what’s going on in my department. I like to do my own hiring.”

  “I had no idea,” Bree said honestly.

  “You’ve got some heavy hitters in your corner, however.” He glanced at the file folder lying open on his desk. “A kennel has been set up near the parking lot for the dog.” He fixed her with a piercing stare. “It’s your job to keep it clean.”

  “Of course,” she said without hesitation.

  Lieutenant Carlson had said she would be better off in a small town, where she wouldn’t be up against the kinds of violent cases she’d handled in L.A. He hadn’t said anything about her new boss not being entirely happy with her arrival there. Still, he was friendlier than most would be in this situation.

  “Since you’ve already got the training, I’ll just throw you into the shark pool,” he told her. “Fine by you?”

  “The only way to do it,” she replied.

  Roy nodded. “But let me tell you. You screw up and I come down hard. I don’t care if you do have a dog that can eat me for breakfast.” He warily eyed the German shepherd. “Literally.”

  “Jinx hasn’t bitten an officer in, oh, at least a month,” she said, matching his tone.

  He chuckled. “How’d a deputy K-9 end up with a name like Jinx?”

  “He comes from a distinguished line of police dogs,” she replied. “His sire is Ace, as in Ace of Spades. His dam is Allie, as in Poker Alice. The litter Jinx was in was born on Friday the thirteenth. Each puppy received a similar name. The breeder’s twisted logic.”

  “And he left L.A. when you did.”

  “It happens a lot. When you work with a dog as your partner, you develop as close a relationship as you do with a human partner. In many ways, closer.”

  Roy’s eyes tracked her every feature. “Then you’ll understand that we’re a close unit here, Detective. We’ve all worked together a long time.”

  “And new people have to prove their worth before they can hope to be accepted,” she stated, finishing his thought. “I understand that. I believe in pulling my weight.”

  “Good.” He stood up. “I’ll show you your desk.”

  Bree didn’t say a word when she was led to a battered desk stuck in a corner. Roy rattled off names as he passed each desk. She nodded and offered each deputy a brief smile. She wasn’t surprised to receive speculative looks in return.

  It was a good thing she hadn’t expected an open-armed welcome.

  Jinx lay down next to her desk and rested his chin on his paws. She idly scratched the top of his head.

  “It’s only the first day, boy,” she murmured.

  “Tell me, oh powerful one, do you plan to do anything useful today or just sit there and look cute?”

  Tipped back in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk, Cole Becker looked up at his assistant. This was his favorite position when he needed to proofread the advertisements for that week.

  When his uncle died, leaving him the newspaper, Cole took it over. He became not only the owner of the Warm Springs Bulletin, but reporter and staff photographer. He wore many hats in the office.

  “I am doing something useful.” He gestured to the sheaf of papers he held in one hand. “I’m making sure Whitman’s name is spelled correctly. I don’t think he’d be so amiable if it happened again.”

  Mamie Eichorn chuckled. “I don’t know. Substituting an S for the W told everyone what the mean old coot is really like.”

  “Maybe so, but that mean old coot pays his bills on time,” Cole reminded her.

  “And each time acts as if we’re bleeding him dry.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I hear there’s a new cop in town,” he commented. “A story about her would make a good human interest piece. Nothing better than a mom with kids. And there’s even a dog. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?”

  “I heard the dog is her partner,” Mamie noted.

  “Even better on the human interest angle.” Cole picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. He believed in doing his homework ahead of time. By talking to a couple of contacts in L.A., he’d been able to pick up a lot of information about the former Los Angeles Sheriff’s Detective, Bree Fitzpatrick. He’d even had a photograph faxed to him—of the widow standing tall at her husband’s funeral. Cole had heard an impressive listing of the woman’s accomplishments.

  Unlike the proper widow, Cole was a complete contradiction. He looked like one of those guys who didn’t move a muscle unless it was absolutely necessary. Only those who knew him well understood that his body and min
d could move swift as lightning when he needed to.

  “I called over to the station, but the new detective is in with Roy.” He spoke in a low rumble that slid like warm lotion over a woman’s skin. “Think you could find out the new detective’s home telephone number for me?”

  Even Mamie, who’d been happily married for the past fifty-six years, wasn’t immune to Cole’s lethal charm.

  “The woman hasn’t even settled in and you’re already calling her up for a date? She has children, Cole. I thought you drew the line at women with families.”

  He agreed. “I do. Too much trouble. This is business, Mamie.”

  “Like I’ll believe that,” she retorted. “You’re not getting any younger, Cole. Finding someone with a ready-made family is a good way for you to go. Saves a lot of time.”

  “You make it sound like my sperm’s in some retirement home. Herb Dickinson became a father last year, and he’s in his late seventies,” Cole pointed out in his defense.

  Mamie shook her head. “Herb needs new glasses. That baby looks more like their pool man than he looks like Herb, even if the kid’s as bald as his alleged daddy.”

  “There you go.” He grinned. “Herb doesn’t care who the baby looks like. He’s just happy everyone’s calling him a stud.”

  “Some stud,” she snorted with disdain. “Herb has an artificial hip, a glass eye and high blood pressure.”

  “And a twenty-eight-year-old wife. I’d say the man did something right.”

  Mamie blithely ignored him as she continued. “If you don’t do something about your social life, you’ll be worse off than him.”

  “That’s why I go out of town.”

  Mamie shook her head. “So what’s next on your agenda?”

  Cole flashed her a warm smile. “I guess I’ll just have to call over to the sheriff’s station again. See about setting up an interview with our new sheriff’s detective.”

  His assistant shot him a knowing look. “And you say it’s business only.”

  Cole played it cool. “You got it.”

  Mamie started to leave the room, then paused. She stared at him for several moments. “What’s really going on, Cole?”

  He gave her a bland look. “Working on next week’s edition.”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t know what’s going on in that mind of yours, but I have a feeling it might not be good.”

  Cole flashed a smile that had warmed many a woman’s heart. “Just doin’ my job.”

  This time she wasn’t fooled.

  Bree hated first days. Cody’s first day of first grade. Sara’s first day as a high school sophomore. David’s first day as a high school senior. Her own first day with the Warm Springs Sheriff’s Department.

  While Sheriff Roy Holloway was helpful, her peers weren’t. They didn’t make it difficult for her, but they didn’t make it easy, either.

  She arrived home to find Cody almost in tears. He looked at her and declared he hated school.

  “We only have a dumb parakeet,” he muttered, with a slight whine to his voice.

  “I’ve heard of some smart parakeets,” she offered.

  “Not this one.” His eyes plaintively beseeched her. “I want to go back to my old school, Mom.”

  “Sweetie, it’s only your first day,” she murmured. “You have to give it time.”

  He shook his head.

  Bree looked at her stepson and stepdaughter. They didn’t look all that happy, either.

  “Don’t tell me you only have parakeets in your class, too,” she said lightly. Her joke fell flat.

  David was tight-lipped about his day. Sara announced she was going to her room.

  “And how was your day, Bree?” she asked herself as she checked the casserole she’d popped in the oven as soon as she got home. “Just fine. Thank you for asking. The sheriff is an okay guy, but I can’t say much for everyone else. The deputies treat me as if I carry the dreaded plague, and the dispatcher informed me she’s allergic to dogs.” Bree pulled out makings for a salad and began tearing a head of lettuce into pieces. “Now I learn that Cody’s convinced everyone hates him. David hates his school and Sara is positive she won’t make any new friends. How do I know that’s how they’re feeling, when they haven’t said a word to me? Easy. I’m a detective. I read minds.” Her movements were almost violent as she tossed a variety of vegetables into the bowl.

  When the phone rang, she snagged it before the first ring faded away.

  She glanced at her caller ID and noticed it listed Warm Springs Bulletin as the caller.

  “Fitzpatrick.”

  “Detective Fitzpatrick? I’m Cole Becker with the Warm Springs Bulletin.” A man’s lazy drawl drifted across her mind the way a soft comforter covered her body. “Welcome to our fair town.”

  Bree felt a tingle begin deep inside her body and move upward. She wasn’t sure if it was warm in the kitchen or just her. She feared it was all her.

  “Thank you,” she said warily.

  “I was wondering if there was any possibility we could get together?”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I’d like to interview you for the newspaper. See how you feel being Warm Springs’s first female detective. What prompted you to move to Warm Springs. Human interest stuff,” he explained.

  Stuff? He didn’t sound like any reporter she’d ever come across.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Becker.” She didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. “But right now, I’m in the midst of fixing dinner.”

  “How about we talk over breakfast tomorrow?”

  “I like to have breakfast with my kids.”

  “Lunch? They’ll be in school then, right?”

  She gave him points for figuring that one out.

  “This isn’t a good time, Mr. Becker. I’m still settling in.” She wasn’t about to tell him she hated interviews. People usually spelled her name wrong or made her sound as if she was an avenging angel with PMS. “No free time at all.”

  “I’m sure you are busy, Detective. But wouldn’t you want the people to know about the woman behind the badge? Show them that while you’re wearing that badge and carrying a gun, you’re still a mom and a human being?”

  “Not my style,” she retorted.

  “Then why don’t we talk about something that is your style,” he suggested. “Something I think you’d like to know.”

  Bree felt a familiar tingle at the base of her neck. She’d never ignored the warning signal before, and a few times it had even saved her life.

  How could something happen in this small town when she was barely unpacked? She could feel her jaw tightening. She didn’t know what was going on, but felt this was more than a request for an interview.

  “Tomorrow. Lunch. One o’clock,” she rattled. “I’ll leave the choice of restaurant up to you. I haven’t learned which ones are better than others.”

  “Then I’ll make it easy for you. Two doors down from you is The Eatery. I’ll see you there at one.” He hung up.

  Bree stared at her phone before she set it back in the cradle. “It’s not as if you’re marrying the man, Bree. Just think of it as a free meal,” she murmured as she turned to the oven when the timer dinged. “Dinner!” she called out.

  Instead of the clatter of three sets of feet that normally followed her announcement, three quiet souls marched into the kitchen. They started to take their seats, then instantly rose up in response to their mom’s telling stare.

  Sara headed for the refrigerator and pulled out the bottles of salad dressing. Cody filled glasses with iced tea and milk, while David carried the casserole dish over to the table.

  Bree pasted on a bright smile as she sat down. “So, tell me about your day,” she urged in her best June Cleaver voice.

  They all looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “So Cole Becker’s going to interview you today?” Roy grinned at Bree’s look of astonishment. “No secrecy in this town, Fitzpatrick. Someone asked about yo
u when I stopped for coffee. You’ll have to get used to everyone knowing your business.”

  “I should have cleared it with you first,” she said uneasily, silently damning Cole Becker to hell. “He said it’s purely a human interest type story about the new arrival in town.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Fitzpatrick,” the sheriff replied. “Becker’s like one of those bloodhounds who refuses to give up. Believe me, if you hadn’t agreed to the interview, he would have found another way. He’s one persistent son of a bitch,” he said without rancor.

  “You don’t need to worry about my saying anything I shouldn’t. I’ve dealt with the press in the past without any dire consequences,” she assured him. Her stomach was already roiling at the thought of sharing a meal with a man who sounded like the devil incarnate. “I can tell him I can’t make it.”

  Roy shook his head. “I can tell you haven’t dealt with this man. Don’t worry about it. Take advantage of him picking up the tab. Sit there and smile at the guy. Tell him you came out here so your kids would grow up breathing clean air.”

  Bree grimaced. “I really prefer not talking about my children to the media,” she told him. “I think you can realize why.”

  Her superior looked at her and nodded in understanding. As police officers, they were fully aware of just how vulnerable kids today were.

  “Bree, you’re living in a small town now. Everyone knew everything there was to know about you within ten minutes of you moving in. I’ll be the first to tell you your kids are safer here than they would have been in L.A. I’m not saying we haven’t seen problems with drugs, but we’ve been pretty successful in keeping the gangs out, and any kid caught with drugs finds out just how stupid he or she is. Cole’s looking for human interest fluff for his readers. Give him what he wants and he’ll go away. Trust me,” he told her in a soothing voice.

  “If it was my choice I’d rather have a root canal without anesthesia,” she muttered, rising to her feet.

  Roy laughed out loud. “Yeah, but you don’t get a free meal out of a root canal.”

  “Then maybe you should do the interview,” she murmured, leaving the office.

  Bree’s first alert that something was wrong was the way Jinx stood by her desk. His entire body vibrated with the need for action.