Chapter Three
Colt caught a fist in his gut. It didn’t hurt as much as it pissed him off. He twisted away from his attacker, grabbed his arm in a wristlock, and turned his hand. Colt didn’t want to break the man’s wrist or elbow, so he forced him to the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?” the man yelped.
“You’re under arrest for assaulting an officer.” Colt wrestled a pair of cuffs from his duty belt.
“I didn’t know you were a cop.”
“You think I wear this uniform because I like to sweat in the hot sun?”
The woman got in Colt’s face. “Let him go. This is police brutality.”
“Are you all right, ma’am?” Both she and the man stank of alcohol.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shot her a look but didn’t respond, cuffed the man, and called for backup because he’d walked to Old Glory and had left his patrol car at the station.
“I don’t know what you think you saw, but you’re wrong. We’ll sue you and the department.”
Colt pulled the guy up off the ground and told him to sit on the river wall. A small crowd had formed; some in the group had their phones out and appeared to be taking video.
“Nothing to see here, folks.”
A few people dispersed but most loitered on the sidewalk. It was public property; they could stay if they wanted to. The woman kept screeching about constitutional rights and abuse of power. A short time later one of his officers pulled up in a patrol car and loaded the man into the backseat. She tried to get in the car with him, but Colt told her she’d have to get to the jail in Nevada City, the county seat, on her own. There, she could bail the man—presumably her boyfriend or husband—out of jail.
“Don’t drive until you’ve sobered up or I’ll have to arrest you,” Colt told her.
She cussed him out, stringing obscenities together in ways Colt had never heard before. He gave her credit for creativity. A few shopkeepers came out, watched for a little while, then went back inside. He was getting ready to leave when she delivered her parting shot by vomiting on his boots.
Great! He’d just had the boots polished.
Colt walked back to the station gagging on the stench and took them off before he went inside.
Carrie Jo gaped at his stocking feet and the bits of barf that clung to the bottom of his pant legs. “Oh my God, you smell awful.”
“What are you doing here on a Saturday?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have anything else to do, so I thought I’d work on updating the filing system. And I suppose I’ll be taking another trip to the cleaners.” She gestured at his lower half. “Off with the pants.”
He shook his head, went inside his office and found a pair of basketball shorts, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes in his closet, and headed to the locker room for a shower. When he got out he wrapped his dirty uniform pants and the boots in a couple of evidence bags. He’d drop them off at the cleaners himself after work.
Back in his office, he started writing the report for the incident when he heard noise coming from the bull pen. It sounded like a small aircraft was taking off from inside the police station. He went out to see what the racket was and found Carrie Jo in the small efficiency kitchen making something green in an industrial-looking blender.
“What the hell is that?” he shouted over the whir.
She turned it off. “It’s for my cleanse. Kale, mango, celery, tangerine juice, parsley, and mint. Want some?”
He scrunched up his nose. “God, no. I thought you were doing that other thing ... Paleo.”
“I decided to do this instead. My friend Rona lost ten pounds in three weeks.”
He sat at the small table and watched her pour the slop into a tall glass. Win drank similar crap, said it made him feel healthier. He shook his head. “Going from trend to trend is not the way to lose weight.”
“Easy for you to say.” She eyed him up and down. “When was the last time you needed to be on a diet?”
“Exactly. I exercise and eat sensibly. It has to be a lifestyle. Fad diets don’t work.”
“How would you know? You ever think that you were just blessed with good genes?”
“It’s just common sense. Let’s start running together.”
“As if I could keep up with you.” She took the seat across from him, held her nose, and drank. “It’s . . . not that bad.”
He didn’t say anything, just raised his brows.
“All right, it’s disgusting.” She forced down a few more sips. “Do you know what it’s like to have once been the hot chick—the one all the guys ogled—and to now look like this?” She waved her hand over her body.
“You and I don’t see the same thing. Because I still see a hot chick.”
She put down her drink and reached over the table to hug him. “Aw, you’re the best guy ever, and Lisa is such a bitch.”
“We’re not talking about her, Carrie Jo.”
“Fine. But I hope that she who shall not be named trips, falls, and cracks her head open on the next red carpet she walks down.”
Colt got to his feet. “You have a good pair of running shoes?”
“No.”
“Get a pair. I’m picking you up tomorrow morning. We’ll use the track over at Glory Junction High for your first time out. Then it’s trails.”
“I have a bad knee,” she said. “And it’s supposed to be really hot tomorrow.”
He ignored her as she continued to sputter excuses. “See you at seven.”
Colt put in a few hours doing paperwork and then dropped his uniform at the cleaners before going home. When he got there, Delaney’s Tesla was parked in the contested spot. Too tired to fight with her, he drove up the driveway and spent several minutes doing a three-point turn to get the cruiser in position in case he was called out on an emergency.
He went in his back door and found Win eating cereal at his kitchen counter. “What’s wrong with your cereal?”
“I ran out,” he said around a mouthful.
“You ever hear of a store?”
“Why, when you’ve got perfectly good cereal here? And beer.” Win pointed his spoon at Colt as he chewed.
Colt grabbed a stool next to Win at the bar. “Didn’t Mom make dinner?” She usually did something like chili or stew on a Saturday night so her sons could stop by and load up for the week.
“Uh-uh. They went to San Francisco to check out new equipment. A couple of snowmobiles, kayaks, and inflatable boats. Dad knows a guy.”
Colt laughed. As long as they were growing up Gray Garner had always “known a guy.” A guy who could get you a good deal on a car, a guy who could fix a leaky roof cheaper than anyone else, a guy who could come up with tickets for the World Series when no one else could. Colt and his brothers had turned it into a joke. Whenever something needed to be done, one of them would say, “Dad knows a guy. . . .”
“You don’t have a date tonight?” Colt used the term “date” loosely. Win was the womanizer in the family. His idea of a date was Colt’s idea of a hookup.
“Nope. TJ’s coming over to drink beer and watch TV.”
“Why wasn’t I invited?”
“You are, because we’re doing it here. Thanks for having us, by the way.” Win grinned as he stood up.
Colt shook his head but grinned back. Even though his two brothers would eat and drink him out of house and home, he enjoyed their company.
Win got the milk out of the refrigerator and added more to his cereal. “So, I heard someone hurled on you today.”
“Yeah, right after I got sucker punched.”
“Shit, no kidding? Dude, your job sucks.”
“Sometimes.” Like when he had Pond making his life miserable. Otherwise, Colt loved being the police chief. He loved the town, he loved the residents, and he wanted to keep them safe. Call it corny, but that’s the way he rolled. “You invite Josh?”
“He and Hannah had something going on. What’s the deal with the chick next door?”
Colt kicked off his tennis shoes. “What do you mean, what’s the deal with her?”
“She’s hot. What happened to her husband?”
“They’re divorced . . . I think.” That’s what Carrie Jo had told him. But she’d probably heard it from someone else and people in Glory Junction tended to talk out of their asses.
“Really? She seeing anyone?”
“How the hell would I know?” Colt took the cereal box and poured himself a bowl.
“Maybe I should go over there and say hello.”
He reached for the milk. “Do me a favor and don’t.”
“Why not? It’s the neighborly thing to do.” Win grinned and Colt had a sudden urge to wipe the smile off his brother’s face.
“You’re not her neighbor, I am. And she and I aren’t exactly on amicable terms.”
“See, that’s the difference between you and me. If I lived next door to a beautiful woman we’d be on extremely amicable terms.”
Colt snorted. “She’s out of your league, bro.”
Win looked affronted. “What makes you think that?”
“She’s some big-name fashion designer, like Ralph Lauren or Calvin Klein. Her real home is in LA and she’s probably not interested in a ski bum.” Or anyone born and raised in Glory Junction for that matter.
“Hey, who are you calling a ski bum? I own a sixth interest in an excellent adventure company. I’m a businessman.”
“Who’s a businessman?” TJ walked in without bothering to knock, which was standard operating procedure for the Garner brothers.
“Win,” Colt said, and he and TJ both cracked up. Seeing the look on Win’s face, he added, “Oh, Winifred, we’re laughing with you, not at you.”
Of all of them, TJ was the businessman. Their brother Josh liked to say that he was Garner Adventure’s chief bean counter, hiring director, and marketing guru rolled into one. He was eighteen months younger than Colt, but people always thought TJ was the eldest—and the smartest, which he probably was.
TJ took one look at their bowls of cereal and grimaced. “If I knew that’s what you were serving for dinner I would’ve gotten takeout at the Indian place.” The name of the downtown restaurant was Zaika, but everyone just called it the Indian place.
“Blame Win. This is his party. I didn’t even know you guys were coming over.”
TJ picked up the box of cereal and shook it. “There’s nothing left.”
Colt went in his pantry, pulled out another box, and handed it to him with a bowl and spoon.
TJ reached for the milk and joined them at the breakfast bar. “I heard someone upchucked on you,” he said between bites.
“Yeah. Long, boring story.” Apparently enough people saw the incident that the whole town was talking about it. “What’s going on at Garner Adventure? Win says Mom and Dad are buying new equipment.”
“Yep. But I wish we could find more guides. The summer is killing us, though it’s good for our bottom line. You’re still doing the river-rafting trip tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.” Though Colt wished he could have the day to himself. He hadn’t done laundry in a week, the lawn needed mowing, and after tonight he’d be out of groceries. And beer.
“You on call?” TJ asked.
“I am. Brewster isn’t back from his fishing trip until tomorrow, and Saber’s wife just had a baby.”
“How come your patrol car is at the top of the hill?”
“Because Delaney parked in my spot.”
“I didn’t see her Tesla there when I came in.”
Colt got up and peered outside the window. Sure enough, her car was gone. She’d either parked it at the top of her driveway or she went out for the night. He was tempted to move his to the easement road before she got back, but she’d probably need to charge the damn vehicle.
“What’s her deal?” TJ asked.
“Dude, I’ve got dibs,” Win called out.
Colt and TJ looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
“Her deal is that she’s a pain in my ass,” Colt said. “I liked it better when she and her husband never used the place.”
“Ex-husband,” TJ said. “According to Ross up at Winter Bowl where the ex buys his lift tickets, she got the houses and the shoe and handbag business and he got the clothing company. Sounds like she got rooked to me. I don’t know a lot about the fashion industry, but the brand’s a household name. Her clothes are in every department store in America. Supposedly when they split they were in the midst of negotiating a multimillion-dollar deal with Target to do some kind of housewares line.”
“Why’d they break up?” Colt didn’t have a lot of use for gossip, especially about someone he barely knew, but he was curious.
“Have no idea. But according to Ross, it was pretty sudden, because the ex was planning to spend the winter skiing at Winter Bowl and had to give away his tickets. Delaney doesn’t ski.”
Then why the hell live in Glory Junction? That’s what Colt wanted to know. “When is she going back to LA?”
“Don’t know. But she’s still got a business in LA to run. Hannah says Delaney Scott shoes and handbags blow out of her store faster than she can stock them.”
“My guess is she’ll wind up selling,” TJ continued. “Ross says it was the ex who wanted to live up here. Maybe he’ll buy her out.”
Colt didn’t care who owned the house so long as he got his parking space back. As far as he was concerned the house was a monstrosity of epic proportions. Too big for the lot, too stark for the land, and too modern for an old western California town. Delaney, on the other hand, was gorgeous. No way he could deny it, despite their differences.
He could absolutely find her attractive without being attracted to her, Colt told himself. Because he wasn’t in the least bit ... attracted. Her situation was too much like Lisa’s had been.
After their cereal Win and TJ grabbed a couple of beers out of the refrigerator and moved to the living room. Colt abstained in case he got called out. It was a rare night when he didn’t. The department was small enough that he or the assistant chief, Jack Brewster, were required to respond to most of the big accidents, violent crimes, and to all of the fatalities.
Colt claimed the recliner while Win queued up Mad Max: Fury Road on Netflix.
“Josh says Pond’s giving you shit,” TJ said.
“I suspect if he could get away with canning me, he would.”
“He’s a moron. You’re the best chief this town has ever had. I don’t know what voters ever saw in him.”
“He’s slick ... appeals to the new residents, the ones who think the rest of us are a bunch of hayseeds and hippies.”
“What are you planning to do?”
Colt shrugged. “My job.”
Win started the movie, then promptly fell asleep on the couch while TJ talked Colt’s ear off about Garner Adventure, including his lofty plans to expand. At eleven-thirty they called it a night. It was the first time in weeks Colt got a full night’s sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Colt picked up Carrie Jo and kicked her ass for eight laps around the track before heading to Garner Adventure to meet his river-rafting group. TJ wasn’t kidding about it being a bachelorette party. Five women, including the bride-to-be, showed up in tiaras, minuscule shorts, and bikini tops.
Win, already committed to teaching a group of teenagers how to wind sail, took it upon himself to give the ladies a tour of the company while Colt got their gear ready. During the recession their parents had purchased the building, an abandoned log lodge on the corner of Main Street, to replace the original location, which had been a few miles out of town. They’d gutted and renovated it, adding a gym, rock-climbing wall, locker rooms with showers, a reception area with a huge stone fireplace, and offices. It was not only roomier than what they’d had before, but also more visible to tourists. Now, a third of their business was walk-ins.
“You ladies ready to go?” Colt called to the group.
He’d loaded one of the shuttle vans with equipment and snacks and hoped to get a couple of hours on the river before lunchtime. The women had paid for a six-hour trip and he wanted to make sure they had plenty of time on the rapids.
“Can we wear our tiaras on the water?” one of the women asked.
“Nope. But you get to wear these.” He held up a helmet. “And PFDs—personal floatation devices.”
The women didn’t complain, which instantly scored them points in Colt’s book. They got situated in the van and Colt drove a short distance out of town to a launching spot on the river.
“Everyone wear tennis or water shoes and bring sunscreen?” Garner Adventure sent out a check list to anyone who made a reservation.
“Yes,” came a chorus of female voices.
One of the women, a blonde with dimples, popped her head between the two bucket seats up front. “What’s your name?”
“Colt,” he said, and repeated it louder for the others. “And I’ll be your guide today.”
“Are you single, Colt?” the blonde asked, her smile wide and unmistakably flirtatious.
“Single but off limits.” He winked.
“Why?” asked the bride, whose veil had become tangled in her tiara.
“Um, aren’t you getting married?” he teased.
Her eyes twinkled. “I’m not asking for me, silly, but for my beautiful bridesmaids.”
“Because we run a professional operation at Garner Adventure.”
The women booed and Colt shrugged his shoulders. When they got to the river he told them to help themselves to the snacks while he unloaded the raft and paddles. In no time he had everything ready to go and assisted the women with putting on their PFDs and helmets, adjusting straps, making sure everything was on correctly. He gave them a safety talk and a quick lesson on paddling and what to do if one of them fell overboard. He was glad to find out a few of them had white-water rafted before and knew the drill.
“Let’s go,” he said, and they dutifully took their places on the raft while Colt launched them from the put-in and maneuvered a course for the best rapids.
They screamed every time they hit heavy water or a waterfall, giggled when they got hung up on a boulder—which was often because they couldn’t paddle worth a shit—and flirted with him relentlessly. Fending off their advances quickly got tiresome, but he wanted them to have a good time. Lord knew that Garner Adventure trips didn’t come cheap. For that reason, everyone at the company aimed to give the clients their money’s worth. So he worked extra hard to find them the best rapids and flirt back. Just a little.
They broke for lunch and the girls slipped their shorts off to dry in the sun while they lay on the beach in their bikini bottoms. He wanted to take a picture and send it to Win with the message: “Eat your heart out, sucker.” But he resisted. Barely.
“Hey, Colt, you should take off your rash guard,” Dimples called to him, and flashed him a naughty smile.
In unison, the women began chanting, “Take it off, take it off.”
If he did, he’d be looking at a lawsuit. “Not gonna happen, ladies,” he said as charmingly as he knew how.
They got back in the water at one and he spent much of the afternoon fishing his boaters out of the drink. He was pretty sure they fell out on purpose just so he would rescue them. By four they were beat from the sun and asked to go back. He assigned Dimples the job of agile bow, meaning she had to jump out on shore with a line and hold the raft while everyone got out.
“Will you put lotion on my back, Colt?” the bride’s maid of honor, a smoking hot brunette, asked. He rolled his eyes but took the proffered container and did what she asked.
“What about me, Colt?” One of the others batted her eyelashes.
He shook his head. “All right, ladies, enough. Let’s pack up.”
“Not before we get a group picture,” the bride said.
“Everyone get next to the boat and I’ll take it,” he told them.
“No, we want you in the picture, too.”
One of the girls got a selfie stick from her bag in the van. They gathered next to the boat, close enough so everyone would be in the photo.
“On the count of three,” the bride said. “One . . . two . . .”
When they reached the magical number all five women lifted their bikini tops and flashed their tits. And there he was like a dumb-ass, standing in the middle of five topless babes.
“You want me to e-mail the picture to you?” the bride asked him.
He was sorely tempted. If nothing else he’d like to flaunt the photo in Win’s face, but said, “No thanks.”
By the time he got home he was ready for two fingers of Jack and a cold shower. As he turned up the easement road he saw Delaney watering her flowers. Her Tesla was parked on the pad and he silently cursed her. At least he wasn’t on call tonight; Brewster had him covered. Still, she didn’t know that.
He drove to the top of his driveway, parked the truck in the garage, and decided to have a few words with his pesky neighbor.