Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the regional library in Morningstar Lake, so she and Ash could do some research on dogs. Ashley had written a four-word note that morning: “Library—Dogs—German shepherds.” Obviously, she wanted to learn about the breed, and Kristin thought it was a great idea. Any idea that excited Ashley was fine with her. Their neighbor’s dog had certainly earned her approval for the magic he’d performed. He likes me! Pathetic or not, Kristin was grateful for the three-word sentence.
AT 1:30 P.M., Ashley was the only school-age child in the library. Kristin noticed that immediately. And of course, it made sense, but…But what? What was she hoping for? That a lovely age-mate would suddenly appear, a contemporary of Ashley’s, another good student who loved to read like her daughter did? A girl who could be a friend? Damn it, Kristin. Live in reality. Ash wouldn’t talk to her own friends at home, so why would she talk to a stranger?
“Come on, honey. Let’s go find the reference section on dogs.”
Normalcy. That’s what she’d been hoping for.
Ashley pointed to a sign on the main desk that read Library Cards Here.
It appeared her daughter expected to return home with a bunch of books. “Let’s ask.”
The librarian’s name was Anne Rules, according to another sign. Ashley grinned when she pointed it out to Kristin. “Funny, huh?” Kristin whispered.
“I think it is,” said the woman behind the desk. One with excellent hearing. “We do have rules in the library, but we’re a friendly place, too. How may I help you ladies?” When she smiled, her eyes crinkled in the corners and a dimple appeared at the side of her mouth. Clearly, she loved her job.
Kristin introduced Ashley and herself. “We’ll be at the lake for a couple of months, so we’ll need library cards.”
Anne Rules reached for some forms and flyers, then turned her attention to Ashley. “We have some wonderful activities for young people. Look at this.” She pointed to a neon-green flyer.
“Next week, we have a poetry slam—always lots of fun. We have an American Girl Book Club going on right now. And when school ends, we’ll start our Summer Festival of Books. You’re right on time to join in.”
Hope bloomed in Kristin again. Perfect timing! Ashley was so creative not only with music, but also with writing. These activities should draw her in.
The librarian was handing Ash a flyer. “Here, Ashley, take it with you as a reminder. And oh, I almost forgot. We serve doughnuts and apple cider to everyone who comes.” Ms. Rules beamed at the child as if she were offering her the world tied up in a pretty bow.
Kristin eagerly turned to her daughter. “What do you think…” And knew it would never happen.
Ashley stood frozen, staring at the poster.
“Maybe in a week or two, honey, when we’ve been here longer?” She was grasping at straws. She knew it and couldn’t help it.
Then Ms. Rules leaned across the desk and spoke directly to the child. “Your mom can come, too, Ashley. I know it’s hard to be the new girl and not know anybody. I’m sure you’ll make some friends very soon.”
From her mouth to God’s ears. Kristin held her hand out to Anne. “Thank you. No wonder Marsha loves her summers here. If everyone is as friendly as you, who wouldn’t be happy?” She glanced at her daughter again. “We’ll try to come soon. Won’t we, Ash?”
Ashley remained silent. However, she picked up a pencil from the desk and wrote on the pretty flyer: “Dogs. German shepherds.” She handed the note to Anne.
Kristin sighed. Her daughter managed to communicate all right, in her own way, to get what she wanted.
They searched the shelves and found a treasure trove of dog books. Ash’s eyes sparkled at one in particular, which pictured a German shepherd on the cover, a dog with Quincy’s coloring. She placed that one on top of her pile and sat at an empty table near the stacks while Kristin browsed for some fiction.
She hadn’t read many novels lately. Her reading time had been spent delving into books on post-traumatic stress disorder, child abuse and the nature of recovery—not topics she’d have chosen ordinarily. After making her selections, she walked toward Ashley, who was nose deep in a book. Taking an extra moment to study her child, Kristin saw the Ashley she’d seen hundreds of times in the past. In this library, at this moment, she saw what she’d been praying to see—a glimpse of normalcy. Ashley involved in a familiar activity. Reading. Satisfying her curiosity. Ashley being Ashley.
Kristin bit her lip. Why, oh why had she taken the girls to the movies that day? And why hadn’t she taught Ashley never to go to the restroom by herself? If only she had, Ash wouldn’t have been so vulnerable. She probably would have escaped. If only Kristin had been a better mother.
LIGHTNING FLASHED in the distance. Thunder rumbled. Fat raindrops plopped, then picked up speed. Rick reeled in his line, annoyed at having been caught unaware. The price he paid for daydreaming. Well, not exactly daydreaming, he amended. Just emptying his mind of the past. Filling it with the present—fishing, hiking, great music, his new neighbors. And the future—a new, no-stress career.
The storm was in his immediate future, however, and he quickly packed up his rod and tackle box and headed to his vehicle. As soon as Quincy saw him, he crawled out from beneath the car.
Fifteen minutes later, Rick headed slowly back through town, his stomach now rumbling along with the thunder. Eventually, he pulled into the parking lot of Dora’s Diner on Main Street. Great Cooking, Big Portions—What More Can U Want? Her red neon slogan flashed on the roof, the bright letters standing out like a beacon while he drove through the torrents.
His wasn’t the only car in the lot, so the beacon seemed to be working. A mix of delicious aromas hit him as soon as he opened the door. Dora hadn’t lost her touch.
“Ricky Cooper! The dog, too? Well, come on in. Quincy’s always welcome here—he’s a working dog, isn’t he? So take any seat you want, but act fast, we’re filling up.”
Ricky. Only Dora still called him that. “Thanks, Dora. I don’t care what you cook, just make a lot.”
The woman hoo-ha’d, as he knew she would, and waved him away. He immediately headed for the corner booth against the front wall opposite the counter, his usual preference. From here, he could see the complete interior as well as the street outside. He waved or nodded at a number of people as he walked, automatically taking mental notes.
By the time he sat down, his server was bringing him an ice-cold beer and promising dinner in a matter of minutes.
“The brew’s on the house,” she said, nodding at the drink.
“Thanks, but add it to the bill.”
“No can do. She’s the boss.” The waitress nodded toward Dora, then disappeared. Sometimes it was easier to go along, but he’d rather pay his own way.
He stretched his legs behind the hound and took his first swallow of the draft. It slid down well. He leaned back, relaxed in this familiar environment. Comfortable. No adrenaline rush. A good thing. A very good thing.
The door opened again, and the stormy day got brighter. Two familiar rain-soaked blondes stood in the entrance, looking lost and hopeful.
The hostess shook her head and pointed toward the counter seats at the end of the row. There were no booths left. His neighbors started walking his way, and the girl—Ashley—spotted him first. He wasn’t fooled by her delighted expression. It wasn’t because of him. He winked at her and motioned toward the floor, under the table.
She quickly poked her mom’s arm, pointed at Rick and trotted over. Without a word to him, she just crouched down and hugged Quincy, who promptly kissed her and whined with affection.
“I’m so sorry,” began Kristin when she reached him.
As he automatically stood up, he took a moment to study her expression. “No, you’re not. You’re actually damn glad. And that’s fine.”
The woman glanced first at him, then at her daughter, whose thin arms were wrapped around Quincy’s neck
, her head resting on his shoulders with a sweet and contented smile.
“You’re absolutely right,” she admitted. “I’m not merely ‘damn glad,’ I’m overjoyed. I know you don’t understand—”
He interrupted. “Would you like to sit down and join me instead of using the counter? I highly recommend the pot roast.”
Her smile warmed him better than the beer. “Thanks. I think we will. And pot roast sounds great. We both like it. But Ash…” She bent down toward her daughter. “When our food arrives, you sit up here with us.”
Rick signaled the waitress to take their orders and bring them with his.
When Kristin straightened up again, her eyes were suspiciously shiny. She leaned toward him. “Ash said, ‘Okay.’”
She’d been correct earlier. He didn’t understand everything yet, so he said nothing, just waited. He’d been good at patience in his old job.
Not so Kristin, it seemed. She put her hand on his bare arm, her touch hot on his skin. Her smile was so enchanting, so eager, he could only stare.
“My daughter is talking to him—again!”
“And?”
She blinked hard, but couldn’t prevent tears. And suddenly he felt himself being pulled under to a place he didn’t want to be. He was ready for a social life—a summer romance, a fling. Sam had told him Kristin didn’t have a husband, so he wasn’t crossing any lines there. But Rick certainly had no plans to take on a woman with serious problems.
Kristin blotted her cheek, and smiled at him. “This might be a breakthrough for her, so thank you. Thank you for having Quincy at the right place at the right time for Ashley. I cannot believe that a dog—a dog!—got her to speak again.”
Oh, yeah. Serious problems. “He’s pretty special,” Rick replied quietly.
She regained her composure. “I’ll say he’s special. Ash and I will never forget him. In fact, she took out several books about German shepherds from the library today. Maybe I can incorporate her enthusiasm into the curriculum I’m using—maybe with some essays.”
“Curriculum? She’s not in school?”
“I’ve been homeschooling her recently. It’s—it’s better that way, for now.”
His eyes narrowed in speculation, but she offered nothing more. This mother hen was protecting her chick. Or thought she was.
Their dinners arrived then. Heaving a big sigh, Ashley stood up, ready to slide in next to her mother. “You need to wash your hands,” Kristin said. “They were all over the dog.”
Her daughter didn’t move.
“I’ll go with you.” She excused herself, and the two departed.
Every instinct of Rick’s, every nerve ending, thrummed with suspicion. He’d had too much experience with victims not to recognize the signs. Damn, damn, damn. That fragile little girl…He didn’t need this.
The ladies returned and they all dug into their dinners. Even Ashley.
“I guess Dora knows how to make a good pot roast, huh, Ashley?” Rick asked.
The girl nodded and placed a slice on her napkin. She pointed down.
There were big rules and small rules. In the great scheme of things, he’d be breaking a small one. It was a no-brainer to give the child a big moment, for the sake of making her happy. “Normally, I don’t feed Quincy from the table. It’s not good manners for a dog. But since today seems pretty special, go for it.”
The kid beamed at him and ducked beneath the table.
Rick chuckled and looked at Kristin. “If you really want her to write an essay about Quincy, just ask. He has an interesting history.”
Quincy was the safest topic he could think of. He wasn’t about to ask any personal questions about Ashley or Kristin. He needed his zone of safety. Quincy was it.
“Okay,” said Kristin. “I’m asking. Tell me about your dog.”
“To start with, I didn’t buy Quincy. I saw him online and applied for him through a rescue organization.”
Kristin angled her head to see Quincy better. “You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s absolutely gorgeous and simply perfect.”
Ashley popped back up and started eating again.
“Guess what, honey?” Kristin asked. “Mr. Cooper saved Quincy’s life and gave him a great home. He rescued him. Isn’t that amazing?”
Rick didn’t want the kid to look at him as though he were Santa Claus. But she did. He didn’t want her to think he sprinkled stars in the night sky. But her eyes were rounder than dinner plates and shinier than a big harvest moon. A piece of his heart started to rip.
“Many people do what I did,” he said quickly. “It’s nothing special.”
Ashley nodded her head up and down so fast he thought it would snap. She made a writing motion.
Kristin covered her hand. “No, Ash. Tell us. Or tell Quincy.”
The kid inhaled and exhaled, looked ready to cry, and Rick braced himself. Then she took a single huge breath. “It is a big deal,” she said, the words tumbling over themselves. “You saved him!”
And no one had saved her.
The cry in her voice slammed into his gut. His heart. He knew it would echo in his memory for the rest of his life.
A HUGE LIGHTNING BOLT cracked close by and a second one followed, illuminating the street outside their large window, a street still being pelted with heavy rain. Most cars crawled by, their drivers hunched over the wheels. Others passed more quickly, showering the sidewalks with water.
Rick shook his head in disgust. Those drivers couldn’t see an inch in front of their noses. They needed to slow down. Suddenly, the electric lights inside the diner blinked on and off, then went out. Ashley moaned and leaned against her mother. A low murmur buzzed through the place.
Rick heard Kristin shush her daughter, tell her not to worry. They were safe in the diner. And they were together.
He was about to concur, when—crash! Metal on metal. The sound outside made him flinch, made him clench his teeth. Another smash. And a third. At least two cars. He wouldn’t know how bad it was until he got outside.
He stood up and quickly said to his companions, “You guys stay here. Please don’t attempt to drive back yet, Kristin.” Then he looked at the dog. “Quincy, take care of the girls.” He motioned with his hand, and the big dog took his position in front of the booth, sitting at attention.
Jogging to the door, he called over his shoulder to Dora, “Get 911. Call Sam’s office. Do you have any lanterns? Emergency lights. Flashlights. Blankets. Anything.” He peered through the restaurant. “I need a couple of people to direct traffic. Get the flashlights first.”
He didn’t wait to see who responded, trusting many would. Outside, two cars sprawled across Main Street, each one heavily dented front and side. No one was outside either vehicle.
Damn. Head-on. Spinning. There would be injuries. He approached the first car and pulled the door open. Two youngsters—teenagers by his judgment—lay in the front seat. He checked airways, breathing, constrictions. They were unconscious, but breathing. He wanted to get some blankets on them to keep them warm and prevent shock.
Other people joined him. “Block off the street with your cars. Use your headlights and flashers. Ambulances only.”
He approached the second car and heard a baby crying. Good. Lungs functioned. He pulled at the driver’s bashed-in door, but couldn’t budge it. He could see a young woman, not moving, her head to one side, her air bag half-inflated. He ran to the passenger door, managed to pry it open, and knelt on the front seat. Was the driver breathing? He put his hand on her chest. Felt a shallow rise and fall.
Yes!
“You’re going to be fine. If you can hear me, just know that. You’ll be fine. Your baby is fine. Making a lot of noise. We’ll take care of your infant.”
He backed out of the car, looking for assistance, and found it. People had blankets, and a neighbor recognized the car and went in the back with the baby.
The rain let up. He heard the wail of sirens and, in the near distance, spotted the
first ambulance. Ten minutes later, the second ambulance was loaded and on its way to the E.R. Rick was in the midst of reports, working with the sheriff’s department and county deputies. He’d been the first “officer” on the scene, and even though he wasn’t in uniform, he continued the paperwork.
Finally, he made his way back inside the diner. People slapped him on the shoulder, and compliments and words of appreciation flew his way. He hid behind the situation.
“There’s more, folks. Listen up. There’s no electricity for a hundred miles, and there’s flash flooding on the Thompsonville Road, Lookout Point and Grove Highway leading to the state road. You know, all the usual spots. Avoid them when you drive home. Thanks.”
He headed toward his table. He wanted tea. Coffee. Something burning hot.
Just then, Kristin smiled at him, and he started to sweat. That drowning feeling was coming over him again, and it had nothing at all to do with the storm outside.
He slid into the booth and focused on Ashley. “Was Quincy a good boy?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. I think he’s my friend.”
“Without a doubt, Ashley. He’s definitely your friend.”
Kristin was silent, her glance moving from Ashley to him. Just listening, a tiny smile making a constant appearance. He wondered how long it had been since she’d heard Ashley participate in a conversation. Maybe to her it was like hearing music.
“Mr. Cooper?”
“Yes, Ashley?”
“You know what else? I think you’re everybody’s friend. You helped everybody today. Didn’t he, Mom?”
“He sure did.”
Maybe the floor could open up and swallow him. “I’m going to get something hot to drink. Dora has gas stoves. They’re probably working.”
“You can run, but you can’t hide.”
Kristin was laughing at him. And man, she was beautiful.
“Hot chocolate?” asked Ashley.
“You got it, sweetheart. Anything you want.”
Linda Barrett - Count on a Cop Page 3
