Making It Right (A Most Likely To Novel Book 3)

by Catherine Bybee

  The rain had started in again, making the mess shimmer along with everything else on the road.

  “That’s impressive,” she muttered as she assessed the parameters of the hole. A hole that was worthy of a small town’s gossip for months to come.

  With her stomach telling her she hadn’t eaten since the sandwich she’d grabbed at the airport in DC, Jo stepped into Sam’s diner and sat on one of the many empty bar stools at the counter.

  She knew the name to every face she saw in the place. Most greeted her with a hello or a welcome back. A few people who were too far away settled with a wave.

  “Welcome home,” Brenda, the longtime waitress of Sam’s, greeted her. She lifted a coffeepot, and Jo shook her head.

  “I need to sleep tonight.”

  Brenda smelled the top of the pot, wrinkled her nose, and put it back on the warmer.

  Jo didn’t bother with the menu she’d memorized in high school.

  “What looks good tonight?”

  Brenda set a glass of ice water beside her. “Pot roast. It’s Zoe’s recipe, and I think Sam finally has it down.”

  Jo tilted her head. “Has Zoe approved?”

  “She tests it every week, says if it gets any better, she’ll let Sam put her name on his menu under the dish.” Brenda chuckled. “Imagine that, Sam’s diner could have a dish. Even if it’s pot roast.”

  “I haven’t had pot roast in forever. Bring it on.”

  Jo’s phone buzzed in her back pocket. She fished it out to see Gill’s name lit up on her screen.

  It was a text message. How was your flight?

  Jo grinned . . . a silly schoolgirl grin, and promptly looked around the diner to see if anyone noticed.

  Uneventful. She texted back.

  And did your town fall apart without you?

  Jo glanced out the window at the cones surrounding the massive hole in the street. A little.

  Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.

  She liked his praise, even if he had little to base it on. Isn’t it late there?

  Not as late as last night. Some chick kept me up for hours.

  Jo bit her lip, her fingers texting faster than when she was a kid.

  Shame on her.

  She should be spanked. Gill left a smiley face next to his words.

  You’d have to catch me first, and I’d bet twenty bucks I’m faster than you.

  A series of dot dot dots followed for the longest time. Jo looked around the restaurant again, didn’t see anyone watching her.

  Challenge accepted.

  Jo laughed, and Brenda looked up from where she was putting together Jo’s salad.

  Good night, Gill.

  He followed with, G’Night, Sweetness.

  A dinner salad emerged in front of her. When she looked, Brenda grinned from behind the counter. “Must be good.”

  Jo didn’t comment as she tucked her phone away and reached for her fork.

  Even Sam’s dinner salad tasted better than before she’d left.

  Brenda tapped her fingers on the counter. “I like that smile, JoAnne. I haven’t seen it in a while.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gill looked up from his desk when he saw Shauna walk by. “Burton,” he said, catching her attention.

  She doubled back. “Yeah?”

  “Do you have those files on Jo’s case . . . her father’s case?”

  Shauna regarded him with concern. “I do.”

  “I’d like to take a look at them.” It was Monday, and they’d be working overtime in an effort to find the suppliers of a local high school in the grips of a heroin outbreak. The investigation went beyond the local police due to the number of seventeen-year-olds that were ending up dead. One of whom happened to be the nephew of a local congressman.

  Looking at the Ward case would have to take place when he was at home, but he didn’t want it to get away from him.

  “I’ll get them to you. Once you’ve read them, I’d like to go over a few things,” Shauna said.

  “Do you see anything suspicious?”

  Shauna didn’t look convinced. “Seems too cut-and-dry. Like someone put a stamp of approval on his case way too quickly, but I’m not convinced he was murdered.”

  “You’re contradicting yourself.”

  She walked away. “You’ll see.”

  Gill turned his attention back to his computer and the maps of the high schools involved in his current case. Two of the largest public schools in Eugene took up the majority of cases, and it was starting to leak into the smaller private schools as well. You’d think it would be easier to find a link in a smaller setting, but these were privileged kids who didn’t talk, where the public school kids worked a little harder to gain notice and be popular. What Gill needed to do was get inside the heads of these kids. Problem was, it had been fourteen years since he’d walked the halls of a high school. The few friends of his that had kids had young kids, which didn’t help him.

  He looked through the high school photos of the dead teenage kids.

  They looked normal. Painfully normal.

  Kids that should be out sneaking beer from their parents’ fridges or bumming a joint off a twenty-one-year-old.

  Heroin didn’t fit.

  Gill opened his search engine and requested facts on drug use outside of Eugene but still in the state. It would take time for the information to land in his inbox, so he clicked around to see how many high schools occupied the state of Oregon. It was a really long list.

  He scrolled through, not really looking for anything, and found River Bend High. He clicked on the link. The decent size high school taught ninth through twelfth grades, with an average of two hundred students per year. The school collected kids from outside the town of River Bend, which kept the facility in an actual brick-and-mortar building instead of those portable excuses for schools that popped up everywhere.

  Just for kicks, he clicked around the high school site, settled on the track and field page, where he paused.

  Sheriff Ward, or Coach Ward, as she was labeled on the website, stood beside several students at some kind of meet. One of the alumni from River Bend was quoted on the page, saying, “Coach Ward doesn’t hear the words I can’t. When she’s not coaching us, she’s policing us, so it isn’t like we have a chance to say no.”

  Another student’s quote offered a different accolade. “She’s not a coach who makes you run, she runs with you and tells you to keep up.”

  Gill thought about the text conversation he’d had with Jo on Saturday. Guess he should just give her the twenty bucks now and know he wouldn’t catch her if they raced.

  He copied a picture of her from the website before clicking off the page.

  He pushed from his desk to find some coffee, wondering how soon he would be able to run after the fine sheriff. Then he realized something that smacked him in the face.

  JoAnne Ward hung out with high school teenagers every day.

  Thunderstorms filled every hour of Jo’s life for two days and three nights after her return. Because Deputy Emery had pulled in overtime, she was almost entirely on her own. Lucky for her, the list of people she could call for roadside help extended into Waterville. The need to check on the outskirts of River Bend for the elderly that might be stranded due to the poor weather or washed-out roads had her calling in favors from neighbors. And when some of the phones proved to be out of order, she had no problem driving around town asking the business owners to take a drive since she couldn’t be in five places at once.

  Meanwhile, Sam’s Lake, which was what the hole in front of the diner was starting to resemble, grew by the hour.

  It was only seven thirty in the evening, but the dark sky made it feel as if it was the middle of the night. At this point, her two-way ham radio worked better than a cell phone.

  The radio squawked, and she heard a familiar voice. “Jo, your ears on?”

  She lifted the handheld and pressed the button. “I’m here, Luke.”


  “I’m out past Grayson’s farm, about five miles. Pulling Steve out of a ditch.” Luke Miller had the only tow truck in town. On nights like this, he patrolled until most of the residents of River Bend were tucked in their beds.

  “Need my assistance?”

  “He swerved to miss a boulder that came off the hill. You might wanna light it up until I get him home. I’ll double back and move it.”

  “I’m on my way.” Jo did a U-turn and rolled through the quiet streets of town before turning off toward Luke’s direction. Backcountry roads were notoriously dark, and most often a deer crossing in front of a passing car caused an accident and the need for Luke to tow someone out.

  It appeared that all the self-respecting Bambies out there were ducked out of the foul weather, leaving the accidents to inanimate objects.

  Jo rolled up on the scene, parked her car beside the boulder that took up half the road, and kept her lights flashing.

  She pulled her sheriff hat over her head and tucked her raincoat a little closer to her neck when she exited her car.

  Luke was soaked to the bone, and Steve waved at her from the front seat of Luke’s truck.

  “Looks like he messed up the front axle,” Luke said in a voice close to a yell to be heard over the rain and the engine of his idling truck. “I was hoping he could drive it home, but it doesn’t look like it.”

  Jo looked around the dark road.

  “Looks like rush hour has passed,” she teased.

  Luke fastened a chain to the winch on his truck and turned on the motor. Steve’s truck slowly rose so it could be towed on its back wheels.

  She waited beside Luke and ignored the rain as it tried to find openings in her clothing.

  Luke refused her offer of help and worked in silence.

  In the ten minutes it took him to secure the truck once it was out of the ditch, not one vehicle drove by.

  Jo knew the minute she drove away there’d be a call of an accident, and she’d be right back.

  “I need to drop Steve off, then leave the truck at the shop. Take me a good thirty minutes,” he said.

  “You know where I’ll be.”

  Luke nodded before jogging to the driver’s side of his truck and darting inside.

  Jo followed suit and huddled in her dry squad car for his return.

  She ran the engine and cracked the passenger window a hair while listening to the crackle of the radio. The only other sound was her breathing and the beating down rain.

  Times like this she would have liked to have a larger pool of local deputies.

  If she received an emergency call from anyone, something would fall through the cracks. Of course, she could put a few flares on the road and hope anyone driving by would take notice. But with visibility so low, the likelihood of an accident was high.

  So Jo sat in her car and waited.

  The rain slowed from heavy sheets to a steady beat.

  Too quiet.

  The skin on her arms started to prickle.

  She looked out the back window . . . nothing.

  As she swiveled back around, she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

  With her heartbeat speeding up, she positioned the spotlight mounted outside her car away from the boulder in the street to across the road. Rain and more rain . . . and darkness.

  “Lack of sleep and no food,” she whispered to herself.

  Still, she unlocked the holster on her weapon and kept her eyes scanning the dark spaces surrounding the car.

  “Details, details, details . . . I want them, Jo,” Mel said, waving a bottle of wine in the air like it was truth serum.

  Jo looked at her best friends, who stood at her door with sacks full of God knew what, staring at her like she was about to be the center of an intervention. “Do you have any idea how few hours I’ve managed to sleep since I got home?” she asked them, stepping away from the door.

  Mel pushed past her and straight to the kitchen. Zoe followed.

  “Zoe said you met someone,” Mel chattered as she set up the food she’d brought. “And Brenda caught you staring at your cell phone, giggling, at Sam’s the other night.”

  Jo moaned while closing the door. “Can’t this wait?”

  “I tried to tell her,” Zoe started. “You know Mel, once something is in her head, she’s dedicated.”

  “Okay, okay . . . but I’m giving you the short version. I’m exhausted, and I will fall asleep on you without remorse.”

  Zoe put her arm around her friend. “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks, friend.”

  If Zoe weren’t speaking the truth, Jo would have been offended.

  “I’ve been running since I flew back.”

  Zoe took a dish from the bag and moved to the microwave. “Luke said the roads were a mess.”

  “And that pothole in front of Sam’s is nasty,” Mel said. “Wyatt, Luke, and Sam are getting on it first thing in the morning.”

  Jo knew the town would fix the hole long before she could get anyone from county road services to come in.

  “I’ve had two dozen calls from River Bend’s finest at my home to tell me about that damn hole. Like I can miss it.” Jo drew in a big breath through her nose and gravitated toward the kitchen. She looked in the microwave.

  “Pasta,” Zoe told her. “Penne with chicken and asparagus.”

  Jo’s stomach rumbled. “I wasn’t hungry.”

  Zoe didn’t comment, took the food from the oven, and set it on the counter.

  Mel pulled dishes from Jo’s cupboards. “I’m starving,” she said.

  Both Jo and Zoe looked Mel up and down.

  Sensing their stares, Mel turned around. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Jo said, turning first.

  Zoe grinned and pulled a bottle of white wine from her bag. “Mel, can you get some wineglasses?”

  Jo watched Mel remove two glasses from her liquor shelf.

  Mel looked up. “I’m driving.”

  “One glass won’t hurt,” Zoe tempted.

  And in the past, Mel had no problem having a glass of wine, so long as she wasn’t leaving right away and food was involved. Yeah, their friend had something to share.

  “The roads are a mess. Besides, it might start raining again.”

  The sky had cleared up before Jo turned in for the evening. “Suit yourself,” Jo said.

  Zoe scooped up portions of food for all of them.

  Jo’s mouth watered.

  From the magic bag, Mel removed foil wrapped garlic bread.

  “I’m so glad one of us can cook,” Jo said.

  “We all have our talents.” Zoe grinned and handed her a plate.

  They sat in the living room. Mel was cross-legged on the couch, Zoe sat on the floor and used the coffee table for her wine, and Jo kicked back in an old recliner dating back to her dad.

  “So dish it out, sister,” Mel said.

  “This is fantastic,” Jo told Zoe.

  “Jo!”

  “I’m sure Zoe told you the bulk of my story.”

  Mel talked around her fork. “His name is Gill, he works with that agent friend of yours. You met him in DC and he lives in Eugene.”

  Jo kept chewing. “Mmm-hmm, that’s about it.”

  Mel rolled her eyes. “What does he look like?”

  “I met him at a dive bar and he fit right in. Then I saw him at the federal training center in a suit and tie . . . and he fit right in.” Jo pitched a fork into her pasta, spoke right before popping it into her mouth. “I guess you can say he’s a chameleon.”

  Mel was not amused. She glanced at Zoe and said directly to her, “She’s dating a lizard.”

  “Do you have a picture?” Zoe asked.

  Jo shook her head.

  “You’re not helping, Jo!” Mel was miffed.

  Jo rolled her eyes. “He’s tall, I don’t know, six twoish. Thick, cuz well, you know . . . that’s what I’ve always been attracted to. Big and mmmm! He has a five o’clock shadow
on his head and a groomed goatee. Is that better, Mel?”

  Mel hummed to herself as she ate. “I feel better.”

  “You’re going to see him again. That’s the part that has me all girlie with giggling,” Zoe said. “I don’t remember the last time that happened.”

  Jo glanced at the ceiling. “Me either.”

  “I never saw you dating a cop.” Zoe sipped her wine after eating only half of the meal she put on her plate.

  “He’s a Fed, not a cop.”

  “Is there a difference?” Mel asked.

  “Probably not. But hell, I never thought I’d be a cop, so dating one can’t be completely outside my new norm.”

  “When will you see him again?” Mel was like a kid with a new toy.

  “I don’t know. Eugene isn’t exactly next door.”

  “It isn’t crazy far away either.”

  “I’ll be sure and run my dating life past you once I know what it is,” Jo teased. “Now enough about me. When is that baby due?”

  Mel didn’t miss a beat, obviously didn’t think before she answered, “November.”

  Zoe squealed.

  Mel dropped her fork and covered her lips as if they had a mind of their own.

  “I knew it!”

  Jo and Zoe both stared at their friend.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything yet.”

  “Why?” Zoe asked.

  Mel put her bowl aside, looked down at her flat stomach. “I almost lost Hope in my first trimester. I guess I didn’t want to get everyone excited until I was past that.”

  Jo reached over and touched Mel’s shoulder. “If something happened with this baby, don’t you think you’d want us around to help? How can we be here for you if you don’t let us know what’s happening?”

  Mel had a tear in her eye. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m always right,” Jo said, deadpan.

  Zoe crawled up to a place beside Mel on the couch, wrapped an arm around her. “You’re having a baby!”

  Jo joined them in a group hug.

  “And Jo has a boyfriend,” Mel said.

  They hugged again.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Whatever,” both Mel and Zoe said together.