Like that was going to happen.
Chapter Three
‡
“Knock. Knock.”
Flynn looked up from his computer screen.
Only his second day on the job and the knot in his belly had grown to the size of a watermelon. Did the county powers that be really expect him to run this operation with a minimalist budget and no safety net?
Apparently, his predecessor had frittered away whatever cushion Flynn might have been able to count on. Bastard.
Kat entered, her very presence a breath of fresh air. “Good morning, Katherine. What can I do for you?”
“We have a call.”
He was halfway out of his chair when she held up a hand. “It’s one of our regulars.”
He sat back down. “We have regular 911 calls?”
Her face scrunched up in the cutest way. Too bad noticing such things made him nearly as unprofessional as the infamous Ken Morrison.
“Molly O’Neal’s cat roams…as cats are wont to do. Only Molly, who is eighty-something and missing a couple of sandwiches for her picnic, if you get my meaning, starts to fret when her cat fails to come home. When Molly starts to fret, she sets out on her motorized cart to find the cat, whose name is Peaches.”
She gave him a droll look. “Don’t ask me why, he’s black and white.”
Flynn couldn’t help but grin.
Her voice faltered for a moment as if she’d lost her train of thought, but she went on a second later. “Anyway, once Molly leaves her driveway, the 911 calls start coming in. People are certain Molly is going to wind up lost, stranded, or in some sort of traffic accident.”
“Got it. We rescue her by helping her back to the house.”
“And we find Peaches, if possible.”
“Good Lord.”
“It’s not that bad. Really. I usually field the call because I took care of my mother who suffered from younger-onset Alzheimer’s for a number of years. I know a few techniques for keeping Molly from freaking out. But, since you said you wanted to be part of all calls…are you free?”
“Are you offering me a reason to break away from this boring budget report? Why, yes, thank you, I am.”
He sprang from his chair and grabbed his jacket. “Do you take a county vehicle?”
“Yes. Usually Janet goes along to drive Molly’s motorized cart back to her house. But, as you probably noticed, Janet called in sick today.”
“I did.” He worked his way around the desk and picked up his red SAR ball cap. “Is she really sick or just using up sick leave until she can retire?”
He could tell the directness of his question surprised her. “Janet hasn’t missed a day since I’ve been here.”
He slipped a set of keys off a hook beside the door. “I’ll take her at her word, then. Change can be stressful for some people. Especially those attached to the past.”
They left the building a few minutes later and got into a four-wheel drive pickup truck. “This Molly person sounds like a real character.”
“She is. One of many. Marietta is filled with them. Have you met OC Jenkins, yet? Some people call him the Fish Whisperer.”
“My brother mentioned him as someone to talk to about teaching a workshop at my after school program. My future program,” he added. One of the many things on his To Do list.
She secured her seatbelt then looked at him. Her green eyes sparkled in the clear morning sunlight. “OC would be great at that. My son can be a little standoffish around strange men, but he and OC really hit it off the first time we went to Big Z’s.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“We moved a year ago January.” She held up one hand as if to stop whatever he was about to say. “Everyone told me I was crazy. But I figured if I couldn’t take the coldest month of the year, then I had no business staying.”
He pumped the gas pedal to coax the cold engine into turning over. “Makes perfect sense to me.”
He guessed there was more to her story but she didn’t say anything else. Because it was too personal? Because I’m her boss? Or had she picked up on the attraction he felt toward her and didn’t want to send the wrong message?
And he was attracted to her, damn it. Even getting in a car together seemed like a bad idea in hindsight. As the truck’s heater kicked in, he could smell the hint of vanilla he’d blamed on the doughnuts yesterday.
Keep your eye on the ball, jackass, he silently ordered. He had a million ways to screw up this job—getting involved in a workplace romance hadn’t been on his radar until yesterday.
“Do you know how to get to the old Depot? It’s a brewpub, now,” she asked, sitting forward attentively.
“Yes. Ryker and Mia and I ate there a few nights ago. It was good. Have you been?”
“Not yet. Single mom. Very limited social life, unless school activities count.”
“Tell me about your son. Brady?”
She turned sideways. “Wow. Impressive. I’m awful about remembering names.”
He remembered because he’d spent far too long last night going over everything they said to one another during the intake interview. He’d been impressed by her intelligence and out-of-the-box thinking. She was exactly the kind of employee he’d hoped to have working for him.
Except Flynn would have preferred it if Kat was a guy—someone Flynn could work with mano a mano without eyebrows being raised. Did that sound sexist? Hell, yes. Which meant he had to do everything in his power to keep things strictly professional between them.
“How old?”
“Ten and a half.”
“Fifth grade?”
“Uh-huh.”
“In one of my education classes, I wound up shadowing a grad student who was subbing in a fifth-grade classroom.” He’d never forget the look on the man’s face when he realized he’d completely lost control of the room. “There was a Lord of the Flies moment that made me question whether or not fighting fires was safer than teaching.”
Her laugh wrapped him in a warm hug he’d never experienced before. What was it about this woman that made being in her company feel both good and dangerous?
“I’ve had teachers tell me you have to win over that age group’s heart and soul or you don’t stand a chance with them. Brady is not an easy student, so I’ve had a lot of contact with teachers. And principals. And tutors.”
“He sounds like my brother,” Flynn said, turning on Main. “Ryker was a terrible student. Never studied. Skipped every class that didn’t hold his attention. Drove our mother crazy. He would have flunked if he weren’t so damn smart.”
“Your brother? The one engaged to Mia Zabrinski?”
He slowed to let a car back out of a parking spot near the Main Street Diner. His stomach made a low rumble he hoped his passenger didn’t hear. She was the reason he overslept and missed breakfast. Not that he’d ever admit it.
Once they were moving again, he answered. “My only brother. Yes. He told me last night he’d be willing to help with your garden program. Apparently kids and dirt are very photo-friendly.”
She turned in the seat to look at him. “Wow. I could include photos in my grant application. Maybe we could do a video cam with a live feed online, too, once we get the greenhouse built.”
“Yeah. Why not? Setting up a web cam sounds like the sort of job any fifth-grader could do. Me?” He shook his head. “Not so much.”
She started to reply but suddenly grabbed his shoulder and pointed. “There she is. There’s Molly. Oh, good Lord.”
Flynn stomped on the brakes. “Damn,” he muttered. “Is she blind, too?”
A tiny, hunched-back crone with bright purple mittens clasping the handlebars of a candy-apple-red motorized scooter headed straight toward them.
“Honk,” Kat cried, reaching across him to drive the heel of her hand against the center of the steering wheel.
Her shoulder, arm and breast connected with Flynn, who watched, momentarily paralyzed by the shock of white
hair flying in the wind. What were the chances…?
The sound of a loud crunch when the scooter plowed into the back quarter panel of a parked Lexus made Kat groan. She sprang into action, prying open her door. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Molly, are you okay?”
The car’s alarm went off, making the woman cover her ears with her purple paws.
Flynn threw the truck into park and hit his emergency flashers. He called for the EMTs before getting out. Why he’d frozen like some first year rookie was beyond him…until he reached the scene, where the elderly woman was giving Kat all kinds of trouble.
Her hair. Silvery white. Styled by the wind and a weed whacker by the looks of it. Just like the old woman in his dream.
“Shit,” he murmured under his breath. This has gotta stop.
How? He didn’t have a clue.
*
“Molly? Can you breathe?” Kat asked, gently frisking the tiny woman.
“Of course. I’m alive, aren’t I? Who are you? Where’s Peaches?”
Molly slapped at Kat’s hands.
“Leave me be. I don’t have time for this kind of falderal.”
Kat eased back since Molly wasn’t exhibiting any signs of pain or discomfort. She looked at Flynn, who was now on the scene. In all honesty, his lack of response to Molly’s scooter aiming directly for them had surprised her. For a split second, she swore she saw fear in his eyes.
“How is she?” Flynn had to shout to be heard over the car alarm, which had switched to a shrill whistling sound.
Ears ringing, Kat put her hands to her mouth to answer. “Okay, I think. But compression fractures are common among the elderly. She needs to be checked out.”
Flynn bent down to move Molly’s foot encased in a puffy pink bedroom slipper from the accelerator pedal, and then still squatting at eye level with Molly, turned off the scooter’s motor and plucked the key out of the ignition. “Sorry, Molly. No more driving today.”
I should have thought of that, Kat acknowledged. He might have been momentarily startled into inaction, but Flynn seemed to have recovered.
A moment later, three strangers hurried out of the cafe. Tourists. Kat could tell by their city clothes and high-end sunglasses. Isn’t it too early in the season for tourists?
Kat had hoped the Lexus owner was an understanding local, even though she hadn’t recognized the car.
“What the f—?” a twenty-something man in a hip plaid shirt shouted. He must have left his coat in the cafe because it was barely forty degrees at the moment. “You wrecked my car, you dumb b—.”
The epithet was cut short when Flynn shot to his feet, like Nautilus rising from the sea. He pointed. “Disable the alarm,” he ordered. “Now.”
The kid, who’d clearly been ready to take on Kat and Molly, wisely backed down. He pulled a key fob from the pocket of his low-slung jeans and hit a button, silencing the horrific sound.
Everyone, including Molly, seemed to sigh with relief.
“What kind of dumb ass town is this? You let crazy old bats drive around on scooters?”
Kat put her arm around Molly’s thin, bent shoulders as if to block the man’s meanness. Molly gave the kid a dirty look but didn’t say anything. A first for Molly.
“Did you say you called this in? She’s starting to look a little pale. Shock, maybe.”
Just then the sound of a siren reached them.
Flynn returned to Molly’s side and gently reached for her wrist. Her mouth opened as if to protest, but his smile disarmed the old woman. Kat knew the feeling.
“Fast and thready. Could be whiplash,” he said, looking at Kat over his shoulder. “Grab a blanket from my bag in the backseat. On second thought—” He unzipped his heavy coat and shrugged out of it to fold it around the old woman’s shoulders.
His kindness melted Kat’s heart, but she raced to the passenger door of the truck and grabbed the blanket, anyway. Flynn wasn’t acclimated to this cold. He wouldn’t be able to stand it for long.
“That siren better be the cops,” the testy young man snarled. “Does this old lady even have insurance? Probably not. Just my f—stinking luck.”
The older man—the loudmouth’s father, possibly—circumnavigated the other parked cars in the street to get a view of the Lexus. “It’s not that bad, son.”
Molly’s head popped up. “Weanie,” she muttered, giving the driver the stink eye.
Kat bit down on her lip to keep from smiling. She agreed, but her job was to make sure Molly was safe. What happened after that was not her responsibility. A deputy would come to handle the accident report. The medics would take Molly to the ER to be checked out. Someone else would make sure the red scooter got back to her house…for now. Until someone in authority took away her driving privileges.
Kat handed the wool blanket to Flynn before leaning down to talk to Molly. “How do you feel, Molly?”
“Fine as fish feathers.” She pushed the start button several times, confusion clouding her face. “I have to find Peaches.”
“No, actually, you don’t,” Kat said. “We already found her. That’s what Flynn and I were coming to tell you.” Kat pointed to Flynn, hoping to divert Molly’s attention from the unresponsive start button. “Flynn’s new in town. He took over Ken’s job.”
“Kenny Morrison? Had him in Junior English. Nasty brat tried to get me fired because I gave him a D. I should have given him the F he deserved and let the buffalo chips fall where they may.”
Flynn gave Kat a supportive nod then stepped away to deal with the irate driver and his parents. Molly continued her rant about the political bias of the school board against women back in the day, but Kat tuned it out to watch Flynn.
“A deputy will be here soon to make a report,” he told the driver. “You’ve got a cell phone, right? Take some pictures to send to your insurance company.”
The driver immediately pulled out his phone while his mother used her tablet to record what was happening. Molly stopped talking to watch the action.
Kat spotted a hint of curiosity flicker to life in her eyes for a moment, but it faded quickly. “I need to find Peaches,” Molly repeated, trying to get off the scooter.
“Molly, wait. We already found him, remember? Peaches is safe.”
The old woman’s face wrinkled with suspicion. “Where? Show me.”
Kat shook her head, slowly, never breaking eye contact. She kept her tone moderate. “Peaches is home waiting for you. We took him there first but you were gone.” Kat knew the truth mattered not one whit. The most important thing at the moment was to keep Molly calm. “You promised me the last time this happened that you’d call 911 when you needed help.”
“I don’t need help. I’m not feeble-minded, you know.”
“Of course, you’re not, Molly. You were a teacher, weren’t you?”
Molly straightened her shoulders the best she could. Kat noticed she was wearing a dirty nightgown and robe under Flynn’s down parka. Fortunately, Molly had thought to don a pair of sweat pants before she left the house. Too bad she forgot socks. Her skinny ankles were reddish-purple from a combination of cold and poor circulation.
Kat was just about to suggest they walk Molly into the cafe when the ambulance pulled up. A deputy sheriff arrived a second later. Flynn moved his truck to an empty parking spot then hurried back, jogging easily. He looked right at home in the action.
The process of filling forms and checking Molly’s vitals before talking her on to the gurney for transport to the ER took an hour, easy. The disgruntled tourists left…with a bad taste in their mouths, no doubt.
Kermit volunteered to drive the scooter to Molly’s while Brenda drove Molly—who’s blood pressure spiked the moment someone mentioned the word: hospital—to the hospital.
“So, what’s next?” Flynn asked, finally pulling on his coat. “Do we zigzag around the neighborhood making good on your assertion that we already found the cat?”
“Yep. Then we take Kermit to the hospital. Did you give him
the key?”
Flynn nodded. “Yes. Despite the rocky start, I’m not a complete amateur.”
She started tell him not to worry about it when she spotted a puffy pink bedroom slipper floating in the slush. “I’ll be right back.” She gingerly picked up the slipper and dashed to the back of the ambulance where she met Kermit, a look of mortification on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“The language. Whoa. Old people really know how to cuss.”
She laughed. “You’ll have to wash your ears out with soap when you get home.” She held up the slipper. “She might need this.”
He tossed it inside, gave his partner a heads up and then closed the door, pounding twice to give Brenda the all clear. They both watched the boxy vehicle leave.
On their way back to the scooter, Kermit asked, “So, how’s our new fearless leader working out?”
Fearless. Funny choice of word given the way Flynn froze. “He kept the young prince from going off on poor Molly, so that ranks pretty high in my book.”
Kermit nodded, as if that made sense to him. Then he hopped aboard the scooter. “Time to lay down some rubber while you guys go on a cat hunt. The fun never ends in this job, does it?”
She was still smiling when she climbed into the truck.
“What’s so funny?”
“Kermit pointed out how crazy our job can be. Seriously weird at times.”
Flynn didn’t comment.
They drove in silence circling the blocks leading to Molly’s house. Kat guessed something was bothering him. Having been married to a man who tended to fret and stew instead of tackling issues head-on, she knew nothing good came from waiting. “Did I do something wrong back there?”
He startled. “No. You were outstanding. I was very impressed by your compassion and how well you handled Molly. Did you say you learned from caring for your mother?”
“Mom started showing signs of forgetfulness in her early forties. Lloyd, my stepdad, was able to help her hide the symptoms for a long time. When Lloyd died in a car accident, Mom came to live with us. It was pretty stressful. Brady was a toddler, and Mom sometimes acted like one.” She shrugged. “It made for a couple of challenging years.”
Montana Hero Page 4
