“Part of the hazards of the job.”
Sullivan stepped closer, holding the flashlight between them so it illuminated the lower half of her face. “I realize you don’t understand how things work in a small town,” she said softly, as if imparting some hard-won wisdom, “but believe me, you’re not going to win any points for hauling these kids in. What’ll happen is they’ll all get slapped with fines, lose their licenses—if they have them yet—and be ordered to perform community service. Fines,” she continued pointedly, “that their parents will more than likely have to pay for. Community service that their parents will have to take time off of work to take them to. Just like they’ll have to drive them to every practice, school function and social event until they get their driving privileges restored.”
Ross fought for patience. For the past month he’d been careful not to step on any toes, to be respectful of the veterans of his department who were less than thrilled at being ordered around by an outsider who’d taken the position from one of their own.
He’d been especially cautious around Sullivan. She’d had her fellow officers’ support in her bid for the position of chief, she had their respect. She was also, as far as Ross could tell, a damn fine cop.
But it was past time they all realized he was in charge now.
“I appreciate your input.” He kept his tone mild, not giving away the frustration eating at him. “While I may not have much experience with small-town living, I do know that it’s illegal for a person under the age of twenty-one to purchase or consume alcoholic beverages in the state of Massachusetts. It’s not up to us to interpret the law or decide when and where to enforce it. It’s black and white.”
“A good cop knows there are always shades of gray. sir,” Sullivan added, making the sign of respect sound like anything but.
“Not on my watch. Not in my department. There’s right and there’s wrong.” She didn’t have to agree. She just had to do as he said. “Give anyone eighteen or older the choice to take a Breathalyzer test. If they pass, they’re free to go. The rest get cited.”
“Even your niece?”
He ignored the skepticism in the captain’s husky voice. “She broke the law. She’ll have to face the consequences like everyone else.”
And if that made him the bad guy then so be it. Over the past three months he’d gotten used to playing that role with her. Just as he’d played it with her mother—his younger sister—his entire life. He glanced at Sullivan, noted her disdain for him in the twist of her mouth.
Hell, now he got to be the bad guy at home and at work.
Funny how doing the right thing could be such a pain in the ass.
“It’s quite a coincidence,” Sullivan said, “you showing up right as Evan and I pulled in.”
“I heard the call.”
“Well, aren’t we lucky you just happened to be listening to the police radio at one-thirty in the morning.”
Hard not to listen to it since he’d been driving around looking for Jess after discovering she’d snuck out. Which Sullivan must suspect or else she wouldn’t be taking this little fishing trip. “Glad I could offer my assistance.”
Her mouth flattened. “Come on, Nate,” she called and the kid scrambled to his feet. “Let’s go.”
They walked away. Ross checked on Jess and found her back on her hands and knees.
“Get up.” He crossed to stand over her. Jess, of course, didn’t so much as glance at him. She excelled at doing the opposite of what she should. “I said—” he took a hold of her elbow and tugged “—get up.”
Once on her feet, she pulled away from him, the effect ruined when he had to reach out to keep her from falling flat on her face.
“I have to sit down,” she said. “I don’t feel well.”
And for a moment, Ross got sucked in. Sucked in by her pale face and big eyes, by the trembling of her voice. By how young and scared and…alone she looked.
He gave his head one quick, hard shake. She didn’t need coddling. She needed a swift kick in the ass. It was the only way to get her to straighten out. He was pissed and embarrassed and at the end of his rope with her. Just thinking about what she and Nate had been doing made him want to rail on that boy, shake some sense into her and then send her to a convent for the next twenty years or so.
“You can sit in the back of my squad car,” he told her, taking her by the elbow again and leading her—carefully—back to the path. “And if you puke in there, you’re cleaning it up.”
She stopped, forcing him to halt midstride. “My phone.”
“What about it?”
“I dropped it.” With her free hand she gestured vaguely behind them. “Over there.”
He started walking again, dragging her along. “Too bad.”
She dug in her heels, tried peeling his fingers from her arm. “I have to find it! I need it.”
“Then I guess you shouldn’t have dropped it in the middle of the woods at night.”
“Ow!” Jess cried suddenly. “Uncle Ross, stop. You’re hurting me.”
What the hell? “I’m barely touching—”
“I’m sorry.” She started sobbing. Loudly. Loud enough for everyone in the clearing to hear. “I won’t do it again. Please don’t hurt me.”
“Seriously?” he asked. “You’re going to play games with me now?”
The radio at Ross’s hip crackled to life. “Everything okay, Chief?” Sullivan asked.
With a sigh, Ross unhooked the radio, pressed the button to speak. “Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?” she asked, humor evident in her tone. “You need backup?”
“Negative,” he ground out. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He put it back, never taking his eyes off Jess. “You should join drama club when school starts again. Put those acting skills to good use.”
She lifted a shoulder, her expression smug. “I’m not leaving without my phone.”
She was stubborn. Sneaky. Manipulative. And until she turned eighteen, she was his problem. His responsibility. And he had no idea how to handle her. Damn it.
“You have three minutes.” He held out the flashlight so that it shone up, lighting their faces. She grabbed the bottom but he held on. “At the end of those three minutes, you’re going to accompany me out of these woods willingly and, most important, quietly. Whether or not you’ve found your phone. Understand me?”
“Whatever,” she muttered.
He let go of the flashlight and she staggered back toward where he’d first found her. And it hit him. He’d given in. She needed rules and discipline and to learn how to obey orders and he’d let her get her way because she’d caused a scene. Because it was easier than dealing with the drama she created.
He tapped his fingers against his radio. Glanced toward the clearing. Not that he could see anything other than the faint glow from the fire. He trusted Sullivan had the situation there under control. And was handling it how he wanted it.
“Time’s up,” Ross called. Jess had her head bent as she searched the area by a large evergreen. “Let’s go.”
“That wasn’t three minutes.”
“Sure it was. Come on.” She didn’t move, just held the flashlight so its beam was on the ground, her eyes downcast. Probably plotting other ways she could make his life difficult. “Jess. Now.”
Still staring down, she slowly crouched and reached out her free hand only to snatch it back as if something had snapped at her. Made a sound like she’d been kicked in the stomach.
“Damn it, Jessica,” he growled, picking his way through the thick undergrowth to stand over her. “Don’t make me handcuff you and haul you out of here.”
“Loo—look,” she said in a strangled voice.
He followed her trembling, pointing finger to the end of the beam of light.
And the human skull half-hidden under a fallen log.
ISBN: 9781459235373
Copyright © 2012 by Janice Kay Johnson
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Making Her Way Home Page 27
