Chapter Thirteen
Fog socked in, cloaking River Bend in a layer so thick it needed a blowtorch to get through it. Not that it slowed Jo down.
She arrived at the track at six, did her warm-up laps, and waited for the distance team to arrive.
Tim, her team captain, showed up first. Right behind him, Maureen and Tina, her top girls varsity runners, waltzed onto the field, their heads stuck together in gossip.
“Hey, Coach,” Tim greeted when he was close enough. “Finally let up enough for us to practice.”
Jo smiled. “Not going to do anybody any good breaking an ankle this close to the invitational.” The track drained rather well for something that needed to be replaced three years ago, but when it poured like it had, the thing resembled a lake more than a place for kids to run.
Maureen and Tina were still yakking when they hung their backpacks on the spikes of the fence.
Jo looked at her watch and peeked around the bleachers to the parking lot.
Her youngest runner, Louis, was jogging from his mother’s car.
The kid was all legs and hadn’t yet grown into his years. “Hi, Coach,” he yelled from yards away. “I’m not late.”
“No, you’re not.”
The rest had three minutes left. “Tim?” she called out.
“Yeah?”
“You got ahold of everyone about today’s practice, right?”
“Texted everyone last night.”
“And they all responded?”
“Yep.”
Jo removed her cell phone from her armband that housed it when she ran and checked for messages.
From behind her, she heard a girl’s voice. “We’re here!”
Jo looked up. Ella and Gustavo were running beside each other. Ella was Jo’s junior, and Gustavo was the forced recruit that couldn’t afford to be late.
The two looked very cozy beside each other.
At exactly 6:30, Tim pulled them all together to stretch them out. At 6:32, Drew, the other varsity senior, rolled in.
Jo gave him the look and raised two fingers in the air.
He didn’t argue.
An extra lap after practice for every minute they were late. Those were her rules.
Arguing about the rules resulted in more laps. And as much as these kids liked to run, when they were done with her workout, they were done!
Forced recruits such as Gustavo were given the extra laps and community service. Which for Jo was cleaning up trash on the field, cleaning equipment, and raking the long jump pits. And if there was one thing teenagers hated, it was cleaning up after other teenagers.
“Coach?” Tim caught her attention.
“Yeah?”
“Is Billy coming today?”
“Billy had to take his mother into Waterville for a doctor’s appointment.”
Tim saluted her and encouraged the rest of the distance team to take their first laps.
Second lap around, she noticed Tina and Maureen avoiding the puddles still accumulated on the track. Instead of calling the girls on it, Jo decided they needed a little off-roading. She joined their third lap and directed them off the field.
The girls moaned, but they got over it once their legs were splattered with mud and avoiding puddles wasn’t possible.
As they closed in on the four-mile circuit, her freshman was winded and Gustavo was clenching his side.
“Don’t feel like you have to keep pace with the seniors, Louis,” she told the youngest runner.
Louis acknowledged her with a nod but didn’t try to talk.
Jo sped up a few yards to run beside Gustavo.
“Looks like you lost a little steam during the rain.”
He looked at her, frowned. “You said practice was canceled.”
“I did. You’re right.”
They ran side by side a little longer.
“Hey, Drew?” Jo called ahead. Drew was pacing beside Tina. They’d dated on and off since the previous summer. She couldn’t tell if they were on again or not.
“Yes, Coach?”
“When I cancel practice, do you still run?”
The girls started to laugh, and Drew turned around to run backward as he answered. “If I don’t wanna puke the next time I come out, yeah.”
“In the rain?” Gustavo spat out.
“In the anything, dude. Couple miles minimum unless God himself is dumping buckets on River Bend.”
“Oh, man.”
Gustavo wasn’t happy. Then again, he wasn’t there by choice. He’d tried to give himself a five-finger discount from the main market in town. The store owner caught him with a pocket full of gum and candy, of all things, and called Jo. It was petty and it was stupid . . . and if Jo had anything to say about it, it would be the last time Gustavo attempted to steal anything from anyone.
He’d been pulled into the cross-country team in the fall and the distance team in the spring. She’d acquit the kid during the summer if she didn’t catch or hear of any problems. But this was River Bend. And Jo knew it like sailors could smell an oncoming storm. She knew where to find the teenagers on a Friday night being teens . . . knew how they scored their liquor and where they stashed their weed. Keeping her recruits from year to year wasn’t that hard. Some, like Drew, took his extra laps and added time with a shit-eating grin. He played the fence hard, but overall he was a good kid with a smart sense of everything that went on around him, probably a byproduct of being Deputy Emery’s son. The kid reminded her a lot of herself at his age.
If she ever received inside information from one of the kids on the team, even if they weren’t on the distance team, she kept it confidential and made sure she was the one to catch kids in the act of no good.
They all knew, each and every one of them, that they could call her if any situation got sketchy.
And sometimes they did.
So far, every forced recruit finished high school. Which was her goal. Well, that and keeping them from doing something permanently stupid. Three of her kids were given full ride scholarships for their performance on the field. Considering the average income of a River Bend family, she considered those efforts home runs. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t just as happy with the kids that went to the community college in Waterville and then on to whatever school or trade they decided on to earn their way in life. The best part was, none of her recruits ended up in her jail.
They ran from the wooded trail they’d followed and back onto the track at the high school. They had a couple of cooldown laps where they slowed their pace, and then they’d all go in and grab a shower or rush home to do it before class.
“So, Sheriff?” Drew asked loud enough for all the kids to hear.
“Yeah?”
“Did you learn how to be badass with the Feds?”
She scowled. “Language.”
Drew rolled his eyes.
She didn’t bother scolding him more. He had parents for that. “I learned a few things.”
“FBI training sounds cool,” Louis said as he huffed through his final lap.
“Did you shoot a lot of guns?” Tina asked.
“We did.”
“I looked it up online,” Tim said. “Did you get to drive like a crazy person?”
“We call it defensive driving, Tim. Not crazy person.” She laughed.
They rounded the last lap, and the noise from the parking lot told her that the other students were arriving.
“I think it’s awesome that our town sheriff trained with the FBI.” Tina puffed out her chest like it was her accomplishment.
“It was a lot of hard work, but it was worth it.”
“Did they make you run?” Gustavo asked with a laugh.
“No. I made myself run three miles every day.” Well, except two, but she wasn’t going to admit that.
Gustavo’s look of mortification had her laughing.
Tim and Drew raced their last hundred meters, even though they were supposed to be cooling down. Drew caught the first foot over the finish line. With hands on their knees, air moving in and out of their lungs quickly, they sparred each other with words of next time and who was the faster runner.
“Oh, who is that?” The tone of Maureen’s voice said she liked what she saw.
“Oh . . .” Tina said on a sigh.
Jo followed their gaze. Her breath caught in her throat and she started to cough.
Gill leaned against the fence. He wore a black leather jacket and jeans. The sunglasses, which weren’t yet needed, rested on his nose, blocking the direction of his eyes.
But Jo felt them.
“Hello, JoAnne.” Gill’s voice was low and sexy. Saying hello sounded like intimacy.
Jo waited a beat, and then she heard it. The low-lying whistle of one of the guys, she guessed Drew, who was ballsy like that. All the girls did the giggle thing.
She took a step toward him.
“He looks a little scary, Sheriff. Might wanna be careful,” Drew teased.
She lifted her hand, her back to the kids. With two fingers in the air she said, “Two extra laps, Drew. Let’s not make it three.”
The kid laughed as he took off to wrap up his punishment.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered once she was close enough so only he could hear.
“I told you I’d come before you missed me.”
Jo smiled, tried not to think of the kids who were watching from behind.
“I thought you’d call first.”
Gill took off his sunglasses, and yes, he was staring at her. “I was in the neighborhood.”
From two hours away?
Jo wanted to blush, probably was under the heat on her cheeks. “You’re funny. I’m just finishing up here.”
Gill looked her up and down. “I’ll wait.”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” he matched her whisper.
“Like you want to devour me.”
He leaned close, his lips close to her ear. “But I do.”
“You’re impossible.”
His grin screamed sin before he covered his eyes with the glasses and leaned against the fence.
Jo faced her team, who had all stopped to gawk.
“Did you forget to stretch?”
The girls had phones in their hands.
Let the River Bend gossip begin.
Did the woman not know how she looked wearing those tiny shorts and the snug top soaked in sweat? Gill couldn’t help but wonder if the teenage boys of River Bend High fantasized about their fine sheriff.
Lord knew if he had a coach that looked like her in school, he might have joined track.
He enjoyed making her blush. It was obvious that his unexpected presence tossed her around a little. And if there was something he knew about women, it was that when they were frazzled, they were interested.
JoAnne Ward was completely frazzled.
He’d listened enough to her conversations about her routine to know that she was on the track field with the teens every morning before she went to work. It was safe to say that after all the rain that had dumped on the coast of Oregon since they’d returned from the East Coast, this first dry day would ensure that he’d catch her there.
Gill enjoyed the brisk ride down, made good time on the backcountry roads. He never worried too much about speeding tickets, and his bike gave him the maneuverability to get around the objects left behind by the passing storms.
River Bend, or the few roads where the city center was housed, was just as small as Jo had described. Yet the outlying areas, the places that were tucked off the main drags, the farms and larger pieces of property, spread out to her borders. And there was plenty of forest to make up for everything else.
It was quiet. That was the thing that stuck out the most as he drove through. Close to seven thirty and the town was barely waking up.
The high school, Gill decided, was bigger than any other part of the town.
The parking lot wasn’t extremely big, but it was filling fast when he pulled in and parked next to Jo’s squad car.
A chorus of good-byes caught Gill’s attention.
Jo’s teens were telling her they’d see her tomorrow. Two of the girls looked his way and quickly started laughing as they walked off.
Gill didn’t think Jo had many men around or his just showing up wouldn’t have caused this kind of response.
Jo lifted a backpack over her shoulder. “You know what you’ve done, don’t you?”
He shook his head.
“You’ve started the gossip train.”
“What gossip?”
Jo stood toe-to-toe, her head tilted back.
“Only my dad called me JoAnne. And no one, and I do mean no one, has met me by the bleachers that I didn’t make run.”
He liked the implications of that.
“So using your name, and being here, is gossip worthy, eh?”
“You have no idea.” She looked around them.
Gill removed his sunglasses, tucked them in an inside pocket of his jacket. “Well, you know what we should do then?”
Jo turned her attention back to him. “What?”
“Give them something to gossip about.” He reached for her waist and pulled her close.
She didn’t resist, but then again, the look of surprise said he caught her off guard.
“I missed you,” he said, right before he kissed her.
He thought for sure she’d push him away.
She didn’t.
So he kept his lips to hers until she moaned, and then he set her back. “There we go,” he said. “Something to talk about.”
“My badass rep is now shot to hell,” she said, licking her lips.
Gill took the backpack from her shoulder. “Have you seen the size of me? Your badass rep just showed up.”
“I need a quick shower.”
“Need help?” Gill asked.
Jo disappeared around the corner of her living room into what he assumed was her bedroom.
“Ha-ha! You show up and I’m late isn’t a great combination.”
Gill walked over to her fireplace, mumbling, “I think it’s a fabulous combination.”
Pipes in the walls whistled as Jo turned on the water. “Make yourself at home!”
A framed American flag sat center stage over the fireplace, the plaque under it stated Sheriff Joseph Alan Ward, along with the date of his death. To the right of the flag was a picture of Jo as a teenager, her father in uniform, standing beside her.
Gill picked it up to study.
Jo was younger, just as beautiful. There was an edge about her smile, something sneaky she was holding back. Her father squeezed her shoulder close to his, as if her closeness was rare and he wanted to hold her for as long as he could.
A pang of sadness for the man’s loss strummed against Gill’s breastbone.
The next framed picture was more recent. This one made his mouth water.
Jo stood beside two women, one in a wedding dress, the other dressed identically to Jo. A wedding, obviously, with three great friends. JoAnne Ward cleaned up really friggin’ well. A dress, makeup . . . details to her hair, including tiny flowers. He wondered if she hated fluff and the flowers, or did she secretly crave them? She was beautiful, like any bridesmaid should be. Here she appeared less guarded, more relaxed, than she did in the picture with her father.
Gill replaced the photo, craving more.
On the wall hung a picture of her father, again in uniform. This was one that had been taken professionally, one that law enforcement took of their own the day they finished the academy. Right beside it, Jo placed her identical picture.
Gill started to sense a theme.
He moved from the pictures to the house. It felt heavy, dark. A man’s home with a sprinkling of female. Like the recliner that sat beside the sofa, it screamed man but had a soft ivory throw tossed over the back of it. The house was neat, not like that of a bachelor, but of a woman living without a husband and kids. The few personal items placed on the coffee table or on the kitchen counter were placed, not thrown down and forgotten.
Gill thought Jo would be more of a throw down kind of woman. The neatness surprised him.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the neatness was at an OCD level. Gill moved into the kitchen and opened a cupboard. Neat.
He opened another . . . neat.
Gill frowned until he opened the fridge.
The mess made him smile. Okay, so Jo wasn’t clinical about tidiness.
“Hungry?” he heard Jo ask behind him.
He closed the door and turned around without explanation.
Jo’s hair was wet and pulled up into a knot on top of her head. Her face was clean of makeup with the exception of a tiny bit of lip gloss. She didn’t need anything more.
She was half dressed. Well, she had the standard uniform on with her dress shirt unbuttoned, a T-shirt underneath covering his view.
“I am hungry,” he said, his voice low.
Jo blushed.
He loved making her do that. Gill slid beside her, stopped her from buttoning up her shirt by pulling her into his arms. “Hi,” he said, as if he were seeing her for the first time that day.
“This is crazy,” she said before reaching for his lips with hers.
Her gloss tasted like cherries, her kiss tasted like wine. He made the kiss count, tasted every possible part of her mouth open to his and went in for a little more when she came up for air. “I knew you’d miss me,” he said.
She wiped his lips with her thumb. “I didn’t say I missed you.”
“That kiss said you did.”
He let her go as she finished dressing. “I have to work.”
“I thought as much. I’m sure you won’t mind me tagging along.”
“It’s a boring town, Gill. I hope you brought a book.”
He watched her, felt something off. “No book—” His words lingered. “Hey, where is your vest?”
She finished buttoning her dress shirt, tucked it into her pants.
“Vest?”
He tapped his chest.
The placating smile said everything. “It’s River Bend,” she said as if the name of the town explained the lack of bulletproof protection.
“Nobody in River Bend owns a gun except you?”
Jo came short of rolling her eyes. “You’ll see.” She disappeared into her room again, returned with her duty belt secured around her waist and her hat in her hand. “C’mon.”
Even in the most unflattering pants, with tools of the cops’ trade wrapped around her waist, keeping his eyes off her ass as she walked out her door proved impossible.