Adam Malone sat in court, drumming the desk until the judge gave him his second dirty look of the day. He apologized again. He hadn’t realized he was doing it. Waiting wasn’t his forte. Funny, he’d always expected a Californian courtroom to look like they did on TV, full of press as well as people. Yet this room was almost empty. Not one member of his extended family or a single one of his so-called friends had turned up to support him. Apart from the court staff, only one guy was present with his notepad. Though he supposed he should be thankful they had kept the major press away, he could see the headlines now: Fresh-Faced Boy Band Drummer Exposed as Drug Smuggler.

The door opened and another uniformed man came in. There was still no sign of Detective Anderson, the cop who had set up the whole deal.

“What’s going on? Why are we holed up in here? I agreed to do what you wanted,” he whispered to his court-appointed attorney. But before the man could respond, the judge banged his gavel. The sound reverberated around the almost-empty courtroom. Although Adam jumped, he noticed the court reporter didn’t, suggesting she was used to loud noises.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you, Mr. Malone, until I ask you a question,” the judge ordered, glaring down at him.

His attorney nudged him. Taking the hint, Adam stood. “I apologize, Your Honor.”

Adam stared out the window, biting down his temper. He would practice his deep breathing techniques, only the smell of artificial, pine-based wood cleaner was unpleasant. The windows needed cleaning, the sun’s rays highlighting the dirt. Sirens rang and horns honked, hinting that life continued as normal on the outside, but parking lots and government buildings blocked his view of anything pleasant. He turned his attention back to the judge who stared back from his high wooden desk, his face full of disdain. Adam shuffled on his hard, wooden seat. His attorney seemed to be studying for some exam, his nose only leaving his legal book when he glanced at the clock. Adam was glad he wasn’t depending on this man to defend him from a real charge.

Hadn’t the judge been filled in? Obviously not, by his reaction. Where was Anderson? The time ticked by. Every second seemed to last an hour. Sweat dripped down Adam’s back. He wanted to take off his suit jacket, but the formal attire of the attorneys and court reporter suggested that wasn’t a good idea.

“Okay, it’s obvious Detective Anderson isn’t going to grace us with his presence. Take Mr. Malone to the arranged location. He can enjoy a spell there while we sort out his case. A few months of hard work with decent food and fresh air will allow him to consider his life choices.”

Life choices? He was a drummer in a band, for goodness sake, not a murderer or abuser. He was about to protest and demand they wait for Anderson but the look on the judge’s face told him not to push it. His claim of innocence was of no interest to this man. At least the judge kept his new residence secret. He didn’t want to be trailed and pictured on social media. Being the center of attention had been Camilla’s dream not his.

Camilla. He wondered where she was now. Not that he cared.

* * *

Adam waited in the holding cell to see what happened next. After a couple of hours, a guard came to collect him and brought him to a room holding Andersen and the judge. What was happening now?

“Take the handcuffs off and leave us please.”

The guard did as the judge directed. Adam looked to Andersen for an explanation but instead the judge spoke.

“I apologize for being harsh on you in the courtroom but I had to make it look real. I wanted to thank you in person for volunteering to take this drug ring down. Dectective Andersen has told me all about you and your rather poor choice of girlfriend.”

Adam didn’t try to defend himself. He had picked a bad one. People had tried to tell him but he hadn’t listened. Now look at the mess he was in.

“You will be taken to the Double R. It is a rehabilitation center for those the courts feel are least likely to become drug offenders. The idea was to provide young men with a chance to experience some fresh air and hard work, quite a change from the lifestyle they may have become accustomed to.

Unfortunately the idea hasn’t quite worked as we hoped. You will meet many rich young men whose well paid attorney’s were able to convince the courts they belonged on these ranches. Anyway, I am not here to explain or defend our choices. I wanted to express my thanks for what you are doing and assure you that the sentence of three months was Andersen’s idea. He believes word will spread that you have been reprimanded for your part in the drugs haul and therefore your friends will be less likely to go undercover. I assume you wish to cease all contact with these friends.”

Did he? Of course he did. All dreams of having a happy ever after with Camilla had gone up in smoke along with his career in the band. The judge was wrong, he had paid a price for his wrongdoings and it was much worse than a couple of months on a ranch.

“Yes sir, I have. Thank you.”

“No thank you Mr. Malone. Maybe because of your actions, fewer children will be at risk in the future.”

Andersen gave him a clap on the back and quickly explained a cop would drive him to the Double R. He also told him he had confiscated his cell and Mac until such time as he was released from the ranch. Adam didn’t bother to protest.

* * *

The police car drove along with the cop commenting on how lucky Adam was to spend his sentence in the Santa Ynez Valley. As far as the cop was concerned, it was the best place ever. Adam didn’t care what his home for the next three months or so looked like. He had other worries; the most pressing was how to recover from the tornado that had torn through his life. But looking out the windows, it was impossible to stay miserable for long. He was awed by the beauty of his surroundings, from the backdrop of golden hills overlooking a large lake on his left to green open paddocks on the right.

“Pretty countryside up here,” he said in an effort to engage with the cop. He was the closest thing to a friend Adam had right now.

“Do you fish? You can catch any number of different types in that lake. The people here were self-sufficient back in the day. Before convenience stores and take-out.”

Adam didn’t reply, the cop didn’t seem to expect him to as he kept talking. He settled back for the long drive up to the lodge, the tall sycamore trees forming an arch under which the car drove. He couldn’t see a cloud in the sky. Given his mood, he’d prefer a storm to break out. Whatever lay at the top of this road would be his home, and his prison, for the next three months.

* * *

Ashley Baker pulled up in the parking area, getting out of her car so quickly, her foot missed the step and she fell flat on her face. She looked up to find a man staring at her. He looked like he had walked out of the pages of a men’s magazine, and he was reaching down to give her a hand up. His skin was so soft compared to her calloused palm. Her mom warned her about wearing gloves all the time but, more often than not, she forgot. Her gaze traveled up the arm to the man’s face. He had jet black hair and eyes the color of the deep sea. His face was familiar. She knew him. But from where?

“Morning. I didn’t think the guest welcome involved a glamorous strawberry-blonde woman falling at my feet.”

“That was an accident, not something I planned on purpose,” she replied frostily. She was used to putting the guests back in their place. Usually, it was enough to shut up the most gregarious of them, but this guy just laughed.

“Sorry, I thought I was being funny. You got muck on your face.” He reached over as if to rub it off, but she sprang back.

All the guests at her job were involved with drugs in some form. Not addicts that you would see at the local jailhouse. The ranch was used like a probation center. The idea was to house those who were deemed to be most likely to return to a decent and fulfilling life in society. They would stay and work at the ranch and agree to remain clean of drugs and alcohol. There were no guards and although their guests weren’t allowed to leave the ranch, if they decided to, it was their choice. They would be picked up by the police and put back in jail.

It was a fantastic business model. Getting the city to pay the costs of your ranch while giving you men who worked for free. There was no end to the supply of workers given the amount of rich kids experimenting with drugs. It was a pity her parents hadn’t thought of it. Then they might not be in the situation they were in.

“I’m Adam. As you probably gathered, I’m new and not sure where I should go. The cop who drove me up here had to dash back. Something about an emergency. I reckon he figured I wouldn’t find my way back to the nearest town so I wasn’t a flight risk.”

He had a lovely accent. It sounded Irish, but she wasn’t completely sure. He didn’t look Irish, he looked French or maybe Italian. Didn’t Irish men have red hair and freckles?

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sorry.” Embarrassed to be caught staring, at a guest no less, she let go of his hand and stood straighter, wishing it had been just muck she fell into. The stink carried on the wind as he wrinkled his nose.

“I can show you the way but it’s best I don’t go in. Loretta, our housekeeper, would kill me for stinking up the guest lodge.”

As she walked toward the biggest lodge, he asked question after question. How many guests were staying? How often did they get into town? What was the food like? When he asked was he really expected to work, she stopped so suddenly he nearly ran into her.

“You know you’re not on vacation, right? This is a working ranch. You are here to work, not for rest and relaxation. There are no excursions to town. It’s one of the conditions of your stay; you cannot leave the ranch without a suitable escort. And other guests don’t count as suitable.” Ashley ran through the list of rules she’d memorized from the camp website.

“Geez, sounds like I should have chosen prison,” he said, a grin on his face suggesting he was teasing. For some reason, it really irritated her.

“Perhaps you should have.”

Her icy tone seemed to get his attention as his eyes pierced hers with a glare. Served him right. People like him had no idea how real life worked. “I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, ‘do the crime, pay the time’.”

“I also heard ‘innocent until proven guilty’,” he responded.

Without another word, he walked past her and into the guesthouse. She didn’t get the satisfaction she’d expected from putting him back in his place. Instead, she felt guilty. Why? Maybe because he’d been so friendly and open, and hadn’t laughed when she fell. He’d been nice and she’d treated him like dirt. Her sister’s face came to mind and all thoughts of Adam fled. Kayleigh would never go to the prom or get married or have a child, all because of an addict. Just like Adam.

She stomped off back to the truck. She needed to get started on her day. She was late enough already.