Chapter One
Twelve years later
Red and blue lights from Jo’s squad car lit up the night sky, and the rarely used siren bounced off the pine trees in eerie opposition to the quiet country road. Josie had called Jo personally to ask her to stop by and handle a couple of locals that were raising the anxiety levels at R&B’s. The only real bar in River Bend sat nestled off the main road leading out of town. It took Jo less than five minutes to climb into a ready uniform, strap on her duty belt, and back out of her driveway.
Gravel churned under her tires as she pulled to an abrupt stop in the parking lot of Josie’s bar. A half a dozen motorcycles along with a dozen familiar pickups and off-road vehicles told her the place was close to capacity. Not surprising for a Friday night. She straightened her sheriff’s hat on her head and doubled her stride up the steps to the single-level tavern.
Inside, music pumped from the jukebox, and the smell of stale beer from one too many party fouls wafted from the floor.
She stopped just inside and scanned the room.
Josie stood behind the bar, her eyes narrowing on Jo before she nodded toward the back of the room in a silent signal of where the trouble brewed.
Jo wove her way through the bar, nodding in acknowledgment as many of the patrons said hello, using her first name instead of her title.
Steve Richey and Billy Hoekman crowded a table opposite the Ryan brothers. The four men had been friends at one time, but that was before Dustin Ryan ditched Billy’s baby sister shortly after they were engaged. Never mind that the rumors around town were pointing to Billy’s sister having a second boyfriend in Waterville, the blame of the breakup went on Dustin. In their midtwenties, the four men should know better than to take their problems to the bar. Unfortunately, alcohol only brought out their differences in bright, shiny sparkles.
A few yards away, separated by half a dozen people, Jo heard the jabs over the music and scraping of chairs on the old laminate floor, which was covered in a layer of sawdust to help soak up the nightly spills.
“Let it go, Billy.” Cody was the younger Ryan by only a year. The two brothers didn’t give Jo any trouble, and as she saw it, were probably the ones keeping the fists from flying.
Billy, on the other hand, had brushed elbows with her more than a few times. He wasn’t a happy drunk, but he knew better than to push her.
“A man stands by his promises. Then again, maybe you’re not a man. Maybe you like men . . . that pretty face of yours probably attracts all kinds of boys when you’re in Eugene.”
Dustin, who had been sitting with his fingers clutching a longneck beer, pushed his chair away from the table with the last insult and turned his six-foot frame toward his would-have-been brother-in-law.
Everyone had a breaking point, and it looked like Dustin had met his.
“Boys?” Jo stepped close enough to the party of four to be seen and heard, but far enough away to avoid a fist if one were thrown.
Cody noticed Jo first and visibly took a step back.
Dustin never stopped looking at Billy as he nearly bumped chests with the man.
Steve flanked Billy’s side; his gaze skated over Jo with a look of contempt.
“I’ve heard just about enough of your mouth, Billy Ray.”
A few nearby patrons moved away from the five of them, and the noise in the bar started to dwindle. Everyone knew that Billy Ray didn’t like his middle name being used. It sounded hick, according to the man, and he refused to be labeled as such even if the title fit.
Billy bumped up against Dustin, the move just shy of a shove.
“You really wanna do this?” Billy asked.
“Hello? Am I invisible?” Jo stepped closer.
She knew both men saw her, but only Dustin hesitated.
“C’mon, Dustin.” Cody took hold of his brother’s arm and pulled him back.
Jo looked to Steve to do the same for his team.
He didn’t.
“I really don’t think your mother wants to bail you out of my jail, Billy. My guess is her hip still aches since her fall last winter.” Jo wasn’t above using family guilt to have her needs met. Besides, processing a bar fight and having to sleep in her chair all night because she had someone in the one holding cell in River Bend’s sheriff’s station didn’t sound like a good time for any of them.
Buddy, the short-order cook from the back of the bar, stepped to the other side of the party, his size and presence there in support of Jo, should she need it. “Josie doesn’t want any trouble.”
Jo watched the flick of the fingers, the twitching of the eyes . . . the breaths of both men facing each other off.
Cody tugged his brother a second time and broke the tension. “He’s not worth it.”
Dustin pulled out of his brother’s grip but did the right thing and backed away.
Jo released the breath she held when Billy lowered his eyes for one brief second.
His body language changed in a heartbeat and he charged Dustin’s turned back.
Well, hell!
Jo jumped in, one hand reaching for Billy’s wrist at the same time her forearm pushed into the space just above his elbow. With a pivot and a full-body push, Billy Ray Hoekman was flat on his face with Jo reaching for her handcuffs.
He reared beneath her, would have had a shot at bucking her off if her knee wasn’t grinding into the man’s kidney. She took a breath only once he was cuffed.
Cody held Dustin back, and Buddy stood between her and Steve.
“Damn it, Billy . . . you just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”
“She’s my sister, Jo.”
“That’s Sheriff to you, Mr. Hoekman. And Opal is capable of dealing with her own relationships. You don’t need to beat up her boyfriends in front of a cop.”
Billy cussed in a not so quiet way, the sawdust pushing away from his open mouth as he lay on the floor. Every patron in the bar had their eyes focused on them. The only sound came from the jukebox, which blared out a Led Zeppelin song from the seventies.
“Okay, folks. Show’s over.” Josie made her way to Jo’s side, shaking her head. She knelt down so Billy could hear. “I don’t wanna see you in here for six months, Billy . . . you got that?”
“C’mon, Josie . . .” Even from the floor, Billy was trying to work his way back in.
“Six months!”
Jo brought Billy to his feet, sawdust stuck to the side of his face. He stumbled, evidently from one too many drinks. She glanced over to Steve, his eyes glossy. “I think you might need to walk home, Steve.”
He shuffled his feet, turned away from Buddy, and walked out the back door.
“Dustin, Cody . . . you should probably make your way home, too.” Jo didn’t expect an argument.
The patrons of R&B’s parted a path and held the door open for her as she passed through. Buddy walked behind her as far as the bottom steps. “You got this?” he asked.
Jo had to smile. “I’m good.”
Hours later, Billy snored in the holding cell, and Jo clutched an ice bag to her left forearm. The takedown was going to leave a bruise. She lay down on the worn brown leather sofa in her dad’s old office and put her head on a tiny pillow.
“You know, Dad,” she said to the ceiling, as if her father was hovering over her in some angelic, biblical way, “I always thought you were full of it when you said you slept on this couch. I always thought you had a girlfriend you were keeping from me when you didn’t come home at night.”
The room grew silent when she stopped talking to the air.
Her father didn’t answer.
But she smiled into the thought that maybe he heard her as she closed her eyes and let the clock lure her to sleep.
“Knock, knock!” Zoe’s voice shot Jo out of her sleep and straight up off the sofa.
“Holy . . .”
Daylight.
Office.
Bar fight.
Billy Ray.
She grabbed the back of her neck, certain she managed whiplash with the simple task of jumping from a dead sleep.
“Did I wake you?” Zoe was all smiles and rainbows.
“What time is it?” Jo closed her eyes against the light.
“Six thirty.”
Zoe held a basket that smelled of yeast and sugar. “Got a call from Josie late last night letting me know you were probably camped out here keeping watch over Billy Ray. I thought you might need something to eat.”
Jo’s hand moved from her neck to her back as she stood. “I’m getting too old for this.”
Zoe laughed as she turned away and into the center of the station. “You’re not even thirty.”
“Another month.”
Jo followed her out, forcing the kinks out of her joints with every step. She probably should get a new sofa for her office, even if the budget couldn’t afford her one. Summer always posed the opportunity for her to spend a night in her own jail. On the right side of the bars, at least.
Jo glanced around the reception desk and scratched her head. “Is Glynis here?”
Zoe removed what looked like something sinfully sweet, along with a small crock that smelled of eggs and cheese. “Nope. She doesn’t come in until eight, right?”
“How did you get in here?”
“C’mon, Jo . . . really? We’re the ones that hid the spare key the summer of our junior year.”
She dumped yesterday’s day old coffee into the sink and rinsed it out. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into breaking into your dad’s office back then.”
“We didn’t break in . . . we had a key.”
Zoe licked her finger as she leaned against the table. “Oh, yeah . . . and what would you say to anyone who gave you that line now?”
Jo paused. “No wonder my dad was turning gray before he hit fifty.” She’d been thirty shades of shitty when she was a kid, something she could never atone for since her father was gone. She scooped out the coffee grounds and made a thick blend that would help her wake the dead, namely her.
She glanced at the offerings Zoe brought. “I should probably check on Billy.”
“Oh, he’s fine. Sleeping like a baby.”
The door leading to the one holding cell was cracked open enough to hear him call out for help but closed enough to not hear his snores, which had threatened to keep her up most of the night.
Jo settled into a chair, pulled the warm pastry from the basket. “You’re like Mary Poppins with a bag full of goodies.”
“It’s a basket,” Zoe said with a smile.
“Even better.” She tore off a chunk and popped it into her mouth. Jo closed her eyes and hummed. “Have I told you how much I love you being back in town?”
“If I didn’t know you, I’d swear you’re using me for my culinary skills.”
Jo pulled off another piece, talked around the food in her mouth. “Oh, I am. No doubt about that.”
They both laughed.
The coffeepot buzzed, signaling it was time for a hefty dose of caffeine.
Jo offset the bitter brew with a truckload of sugar. “Have you heard from Zane?” she asked as she took her first sip.
“He called night before last. Said he might be moved from Virginia to North Carolina.”
Zoe’s brother, Zane, had joined the marines shortly after Ziggy, their father, had been shot and killed the previous year. Sheryl, Zoe’s mom, sat in a woman’s penitentiary for voluntary manslaughter for shooting her husband. Even though the woman was protecting her children, she still ended up with a three-year sentence with a mandated one year to be served. Jo didn’t think the courts would keep her all three years. Ziggy’s long history of violence and abuse weighed heavily on the case. The chances of her getting out and being anything but a mouse in need of a hole to sleep in were slim to none. She’d been beaten down her whole life; she would suffer even more behind bars.
“More training?” Jo asked, redirecting her thoughts to Zane.
“He said something about tactical. He sounded excited.” Zoe smiled like a proud sister should.
“I’m so happy he joined.”
“Me, too.”
Rattling of metal on metal brought their attention to the door to the holding cell. “Jo . . . I mean, Sheriff . . . you out there?”
Jo took another swig of her coffee before setting the cup aside. “Looks like I’m on.”
Zoe tapped her toe against the air as Jo made her way to the back.
Billy Ray’s bed head hair, rumpled shirt, and bloodshot eyes suggested his night was just as bad as Jo’s. “Look who sobered up.”
He looked past her to the open door. “I take it my mom didn’t want to come down and pick me up?”
She leaned against the door frame. “She didn’t answer the phone. I’m not even sure I had the right number.” There was no way she was getting his mother out of bed to take care of his drunk ass.
Billy narrowed his eyes. “You have everyone’s numbers.”
“Everyone who ends up on that side of the bars,” she corrected.
“But I’ve . . .”
Yeah, he’d been there before. “Dustin isn’t pressing charges,” she told him.
Billy sighed in relief.
“But disobeying a direct order from a peace officer . . .”
Billy looked up and met her gaze.
“I’m sorry, Jo. Steve and I had been drinking. Opal’s my sister . . . I couldn’t just sit there.”
She took a step forward. “You didn’t just sit there, you ended up sleeping here. Is Opal’s broken engagement worth a police record, Billy? Do you think your mom needs to deal with this kinda thing?” Billy had always been a mama’s boy, hence the reason he was still living with the woman at twenty-five.
“I’m sorry.”
Funny, the man actually looked sorry.
She grabbed the key to the cell and moved to open the door. “In case you missed it, you’re not invited to R&B’s for six months.”
He muttered something under his breath.
“And if I see you anywhere near Dustin causing trouble, I’m going to cuff you first and ask questions later . . . got it?”
Billy nodded like a bobblehead doll.
She inserted the key in the lock and paused. “You have running shoes, right?”
“I have sneakers, if that’s what you mean.”
“Good.” She clicked open the door. “Bring them with you tomorrow when you meet me at River Bend High at six in the morning.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Six in the . . . what do you want?”
She opened the door wide. “Six a.m., River Bend High.”
She didn’t expect an argument, and Billy was sober enough to understand that.
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
Yeah, he’d thank her now . . . but tomorrow, after three miles on the track . . . not so much.
She followed him out the door and found Zoe snickering as he walked by. “Mornin’, Billy.”
He mumbled a good morning and hustled out the door.
Once it closed, Zoe started laughing. “I swear you’ve turned into your father.”
“I run faster than he did.”
Zoe slid off her perch. “I better get back to Miss Gina’s. Breakfast won’t cook itself.”
“Thanks for this.”
“Not a problem. Always great to see you playing cop.”
They hugged before Zoe walked out the door.
Playing cop . . . yeah, that’s how it often felt.
Jo put together her essentials: gun, duty belt . . . keys to the squad car, before gathering the spoils left by Zoe. Once outside the station, she locked the door and looked around the silent streets of River Bend. Saturday morning held little interest for early risers unless there was some kind of town event or holiday to celebrate.
Not that weekend.
Her eyes landed on the cornerstone bronze plaque of the station, the one that told anyone who could read the date the building was constructed. Taking a step closer, Jo noticed where Zoe had pushed aside the vining jasmine to find the key they’d tucked into the underside of the building’s facade. Pleasant memories of her youth kept her staring at the building for quite a while before she stepped away.
Out of habit, she drove the few blocks of town, around the block, and back down the main street before making her way home.
She left the squad car in her drive and unlocked the front door of the single story bungalow. There was a time in the not so distant past she didn’t bother locking the door to her house. Her father never had, and they never needed to. Only the previous fall, around the time of Ziggy Brown’s death, the weight of a thousand eyes bore down on Jo like a thick fog choking the town from the ocean.
Jo had started locking doors, looking behind her back, and changing her routine. Looking behind her back and changing her routine lasted about a month longer than the eyes watching her. Or perhaps she grew used to being under someone’s radar. Either way, she was getting sloppy again. At least according to Agent Burton, the Fed who had become a friend over the past couple of years.
Jo started undressing before she turned down the hall and into the master bedroom. It had taken two years for her to move her father’s stuff out and take over the space to make it her own. For almost eight years she’d been sleeping in his room and performing his job.
For nearly ten years she’d been living his life.
The bed called out to her, suggesting she catch another couple of hours of sleep.
Instead she turned to the shower and turned the volume of the rock band of the hour on high.