On the Market (The Ballard Brothers of Darling Bay Book 1)

by Rachael Herron

  Didn’t cops try to catch criminals, not save them? “I hear you. But he should have thought of that before he tagged my car.”

  “Okay. Look. We can do it the normal way, I write the report, you sign it. I take you to the department, and you look at a photo lineup and identify the kid you saw. It goes to the DA, and she decides whether or not to prosecute, and she will, even though it’s just a misdemeanor, because not much happens here. Or we could do it my way. I’m going to ask you a big favor.”

  Felicia crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Just think about it for a minute. Come with me to the kid’s house. We’ll see if he’s home, if it’s even the kid I’m thinking of. We talk to him. See if we can find out what’s up with him.”

  “This really is a small town, isn’t it?”

  “This isn’t Los Angeles, Ms. Turbinado. The only gang in town is made up of seven square dancers who bully others into being their eighth.” He stood. “Will you come with me? I bet we can clear this all up and help the kid be a better person at the same time. And if, after we talk to him, you still want to press charges, you can.”

  The boy was just a kid. And this would make a good dinner-party story later, the time she went with the local sheriff to catch a vandal. And it wasn’t like she wanted the kid to do hard time breaking rocks in prison, just that she needed the police report for the rental agency. “Okay, fine. We can try it your way. In your car? I don’t feel like driving a penis-mobile right now.”

  The sheriff smiled. “Lots of folks might call my ride that, too.”

  #

  In the patrol car, the sheriff whooped the siren for her once as he pulled onto the road. In front of them, the traffic (two cars and an old pickup truck) parted. “Does everyone ask you to do that?”

  “Every single person who rides with me.”

  “I’m not unique then. But this place is, isn’t it? What would you think of a reality show being set in your town?”

  “Oh, no. No way.” His words were fast.

  “Take your time.”

  “Sorry. But in Darling Bay? That would be terrible.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then people would know where we are.”

  “Isn’t that what you want?” They drove past a yellow banner hanging from the front of city hall that read, Congrats Darling Bay High School Grads! The World Awaits! “I thought all small towns were just waiting to be discovered.”

  “Not us. We get too many damn tourists as it is.”

  “Isn’t that good for your economy?”

  “Sure. It’s great for business. My girlfriend runs The Golden Spike Cafe.”

  “The place with the old caboose in front? I had a great latte there.”

  He nodded. “See? Everyone gets their coffee from her. The more tourists for her, the better. But for me, they just bring headaches. Big city people—no offense—don’t seem to know what’s important.”

  “Ah. Like vandalizing rental cars?”

  “And that proves my point. This kid—if he is your suspect—is from the big city.”

  “Which one?”

  “San Francisco. His parents were both junkies, dad dead, abandoned by mom at a methadone clinic. He’s been in eight foster homes before winding up here in Darling Bay. If he manages to stay out of juvie, he has a real chance with this foster dad.”

  Felicia shook her head. “That’s not on me, you know. I didn’t make him tag my car.”

  “I know. And I don’t want to pressure you about it. I’ll let you make up your own mind. But I can tell the good apples from the bad, and he’s a good one.”

  Kids weren’t apples. But Felicia held her tongue, right up to the point where they pulled into the driveway she’d parked in that morning. Ballard Brothers. “Here? You’re kidding me.”

  “You know Liam Ballard?”

  “He’s the only person I know in town besides you and Pearl. I spent the day with him. But he didn’t mention a kid…oh.” The sandwich drop off. “Crap.”

  “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Opening the door to Felicia was a more-than-nice surprise. If Liam were honest with himself, he’d admit that he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since he’d dropped her off at her rental car.

  Seeing Colin McMurtry behind her, though? That part wasn’t ideal.

  “Felicia. Colin. Is this the good kind of surprise or the bad kind? Come on in.”

  The sheriff didn’t have to tell him, though—Liam could read it on his face.

  Damn it.

  “Timbo around, Liam?”

  “Upstairs.” Liam kept his voice even. If Timbo had done anything wrong, they’d have to go through him first. They could come this far into the kitchen, but they’d go no farther, not yet.

  “Can we talk to you?”

  “Seems like you already are.” He crossed his arms over his chest and met Colin’s gaze directly. How the hell was Felicia involved with something having to do with Timbo?

  “You and Felicia Turbinado are already acquainted, is that right?”

  He nodded at her, trying to ignore just how pretty she looked with all her hair bundled up on top of her head. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “There’s a chance Timbo vandalized her car.”

  He scowled at Colin. “How does she know it was him?” Jumping to defensive mode wasn’t the best idea in the world, but he didn’t see a way around it at the moment.

  “She saw him do it. Or someone who sounds like him.”

  “Yeah, well, she doesn’t know him.”

  Felicia took a step farther into the kitchen. “She is right here and would appreciate being spoken to instead of about. Is Timbo one of the kids we gave sandwiches to earlier?” Her brown eyes snapped dark heat at him.

  This was bad. “Yeah.”

  “The one who likes his crusts off.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He wasn’t wearing his glasses at the basketball court.”

  Liam’s neck ached. Damn it. “He doesn’t wear them there. He’s broken two pairs already.”

  “But he wears them when he’s riding his bike?” Felicia’s face was steady, her lips firm. She didn’t look angry, exactly, but she looked incredibly serious.

  As well she should. “What did he do?”

  “Egged my car—”

  “That’s not vandalism, not unless it broke something. It washes off, so it’s just temporary damage. I’ll have him—”

  “And he decorated the car door with Sharpie,” said Colin.

  “Oh.” Crap. “What did he draw?”

  Felicia’s dark eyes snapped sparks. “A penis.”

  Relief made him snort. He couldn’t help it, and he regretted it immediately. “Sorry.” He waved his hand in front of his face. “Totally unacceptable. I’ll call him. Can you wait for me in the living room?” He gestured to the doorway, already headed up the stairs.

  Of all people. Timbo had to choose her car?

  Liam had finally thought Timbo was getting it—that when you lived in a town as small as Darling Bay, you hurt someone you knew when you broke the law. It was personal here, everything was about someone else.

  Timbo had been doing so well.

  Liam knocked once and entered Timbo’s room.

  “I saw the cop car.” Timbo’s voice was expressionless. He lay on his back in the middle of the double bed. “You want me to come down.”

  “I do.”

  “I didn’t think. I wasn’t thinking, I mean.”

  Liam tried to keep his anger where it belonged, right in the center of his chest, but it worked its way up to his larynx. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “It was a rental car. It said so right on the license plate holder.”

  “So that gives you immunity?”

  “You said.”

  “Don’t try to pin this on me.” Liam kept his voice low. “I said the people in this town deserve your respect.”
<
br />   “But this wasn’t—”

  “The person who rented that car was in our town and therefore deserves our respect, too. Why did you do it?”

  Timbo groaned and rolled over heavily. He buried his face in the pillow and said something Liam couldn’t hear.

  “Talk to me, not the pillow.”

  Timbo turned his head to the side. His cheek was wet. “I don’t know. Okay? I’m just stupid. That’s all. We already knew that.”

  Sometimes Liam forgot Timbo was only fourteen. “You’re not stupid. You did a stupid thing.”

  “No difference.”

  “Big difference. But you hurt someone’s property, and that matters. And now you get to make it right.”

  “No…”

  “Come on down.”

  In the living room, Colin stood at the fireplace and Felicia sat on the big leather couch. Most people let themselves be swallowed up by the couch, which was the right way to sit in the comfortable beast, but Felicia was somehow managing to sit right on the very edge of it.

  “Here he is.” Liam stepped out of the way so they could see Timbo behind him.

  “Timbo.” Colin held out his hand for the boy to shake. Liam felt gratefulness—again—for the way Colin treated every single person in his path respectfully. “Good to see you.”

  Timbo nodded and stepped forward, not lifting his eyes. He shook the sheriff’s hand. Then he hunched his shoulders, and he tugged the zipper on his hooded sweatshirt higher till it wouldn’t go any further up his neck. At least he’d left the ball cap upstairs.

  “This is Felicia,” said the sheriff.

  Timbo nodded.

  “She’s trying to decide whether or not to press charges for vandalism.”

  It hurt Liam’s heart to watch the look on Timbo’s face. The boy’s eyes darted from Felicia to the sheriff and back again.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Felicia stood. She laced her fingers together in front of her. “Of course you did.”

  Liam wanted to step forward and protect him. How did other parents deal with this? He had a gut reaction—an intense need to shield the boy—and he’d only been in Timbo’s life for two years.

  But Timbo had screwed up.

  “No—”

  “It’s not like you tripped and scribbled a penis on my car on the way down, is it?”

  He shook his head.

  “I didn’t think so. So you meant to, even if you made up your mind at the very last minute.” Felicia’s face was fierce, her eyes dark. “I stole a car once.”

  Liam jumped, and Colin gave a bark of laughter that he turned into a cough.

  Timbo stared. “You did?”

  “I did. It was a pickup truck. I was so angry at my mom for forgetting me at school for like the twentieth time that year, and this old guy got out of his truck and left it running while he ran into the 7-11 across the street. I was furious, and I just wasn’t thinking. At all. I got in, and I took it.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “One block. I didn’t know how to drive a stick shift, and when I finally got it into second, it stalled and I hit the side of a UPS truck.”

  “Whoa.” Timbo looked horrified, and Liam was glad. “Did you get caught?”

  “Are you kidding? The guy who owned the truck was like a million years old, but he grabbed my ear and held onto me until the cops got there.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “I went to prison for six years.”

  Liam bit the inside of his cheek, and it looked like the sheriff was doing the same thing.

  Timbo bought it, though. “Six years?”

  “Okay, no. I’m lying to you. The guy let me off with a warning and a promise. I might do the same for you, if you think you’re up for it.”

  Timbo looked at Liam. He was smart enough to be scared. Good. He’d better be. “What do you mean?”

  Felicia shot a glance at Liam, but directed her words to Timbo. “If I stay in town, and I’m not sure I will, I’ll be working on a show. And I’ll need help. You know what an intern is?”

  Timbo shook his head slowly. He looked worried, as if he were about to take a pop quiz. “Something hospitals have?”

  “Hospitals do have interns. It’s kind of the same idea. You do work, for free, while you’re learning. We usually have a couple on each of my jobs—in California, you can be one when you’re fourteen, if it’s your summer break and you have your guardian’s permission.”

  Timbo shot a look at Liam. “What kind of work?”

  “Working on my TV show.”

  Timbo jolted, like he’d tripped over something invisible. “I wanna do that.”

  “Again, I don’t know if there will be a show. That’s up to—” her gaze shot again to Liam “—that’s up to some things I can’t control right now. But if I do stay, you’ll work for me. For free. To pay me back.”

  “Like, real TV?”

  “Do I look familiar to you?”

  Timbo tilted his head and squinted. He rubbed the cuff of his sleeve on his glasses. “Maybe one of those crime shows?”

  “Nope. I’m never on screen. You’d be behind the scenes, like me. And it wouldn’t be glamorous. You’d be doing things like cleaning up after everyone else. Running things around, being a gofer.”

  “A gopher?”

  “You would go-for the things we needed to have. Go-fer.”

  “I could do that. I could totally do that.”

  Wait a minute. Liam frowned. Was this going to feel like some kind of reward to Timbo? “I’m not sure—”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. If we do it, it’s not going to be fun.” Felicia lifted her chin. “And Timbo, if you stray out of line even once? I’m going to press charges instead of just filling out a property report without your name on it. You’ll be arrested as fast as this nice officer can drive with his red light on.”

  “I won’t screw up. I’m sorry I did what I did.”

  Liam rocked forward on his heels. “Go on up to your room now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Timbo thundered up the stairs.

  Felicia straightened her blouse. “Well. Okay.”

  “Thank you.” The words were small, trivial, but Liam meant them. “I can’t tell you—”

  “Have you had a chance to talk to your brothers?”

  He nodded.

  “Maybe we can confer in the morning?”

  Confer? What would it take for her to lose that serious look on her face—the way she kept her mouth straight and her eyes all business? He’d seen a glimpse of the real Felicia in the Maupin house, when she’d kicked off her shoes and climbed up to the wooden platform. When she’d been telling him about her dream-game she’d played with her mother, she’d been as bright as a new penny. Now she was back to business.

  “Yeah.” He put a twang into his words on purpose as he attempted to get her to smile. “We don’t confer ’round these parts. We do coffee. Sometimes we do lunch, and if it’s a big ole meeting, we have beer with that lunch. You don’t want to make things feel too fancy.”

  Felicia blew out a breath. “No need for fancy. Maybe coffee tomorrow?”

  “You bet. Come by tomorrow, and we’ll walk over to the Golden Spike Cafe.” Ridiculously, Liam wanted her to stay longer. He wanted to feed her something hearty like spaghetti, something that would stick to her ribs and maybe make her look less pale. She had dark hollows under her eyes like she hadn’t been sleeping well.

  But Felicia Turbinado was already halfway to the door. She moved fast, as if she had someplace to be.

  The sheriff said, “Now wait, I brought you, and I’ll give you a lift back.”

  Felicia shook her head. “I’d like to walk. Clear my head a bit.”

  Liam couldn’t just let her go just like that. “Hey. Can I feed you something? Dinner?” Liam heard Colin snort behind him. The man was sheriff for a reason—he didn’t miss much. Liam would get ribbed for this later.

  “
I’m—I’m fine.” She reached to shake his hand, and never had Liam wanted more to hug a stranger. But he didn’t. He shook her hand professionally and steadily.

  She met his eyes for a brief second. “Thanks for letting me talk to him.”

  “Thanks for not pressing charges.” Liam felt gratefulness shoot through him again—he couldn’t lose Timbo. Going to juvie would mean Timbo was lost, probably forever. “You’re doing that kid a really big favor. I’ll make sure he makes it right. Come by anytime in the morning. I’ll be here.”

  Felicia nodded.

  Then she was gone, leaving nothing behind but a light scent of jasmine.

  Colin gave him a grin. “What do you think, pal?”

  Without thinking, Liam said, “Damn, she smells good.”

  Colin laughed. “I haven’t seen you stare at a girl like that in a long time.”

  “I wasn’t staring.”

  “Your tongue was hanging out.”

  “Oh, shut up. Beer?”

  Colin took off his badge and slipped it into his pocket. “As a matter of fact, I just got off duty. I’ll tell you about the wreck that Terry Dunlap got in last week. Ended up in Teasley Pond. It was something, all right.”

  But as Liam got two beers out of the fridge, it wasn’t the Dunlap crash he was thinking about.

  Those big eyes of Felicia’s—he figured he could sit on the porch and think about them for a few minutes.

  And the rest of her?

  Yeah, he could think about the rest of her for a while, too.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Felicia felt as if she were sitting in the diner in Stars Hollow. Sadly, the handsome (and fictional, she reminded herself) Luke wasn’t behind the counter—the person making the coffee and greeting customers was a woman, blonde and smiley and pretty. But the rest of the Golden Spike Cafe was as similar and old-fashioned as if the Gilmore Girls’ set had been picked up and set down coast-side. Old mismatched wooden tables and chairs stood together companionably, and brightly colored surfboards hung on the walls. The menu was written in chalk on the wall, proudly proclaiming rosemary-chocolate muffins and a Joe’s scramble with the works.

  The coffee was perfect, strong and bitter with a sweet high note. People chattered to each other and a busboy went red as he dropped and broke a coffee mug. The bell over the door jangled, and Felicia looked up just as she had the last fifteen times it had sounded.