27
Sly couldn’t believe that Sadie had had the nerve to bring his boss—the chief of police, no less—to his house as some sort of enforcer this morning. He’d been fuming about it all day, could hardly think about anything else. It was amazing how, now that she had a little help, she believed she’d gained the upper hand. But she didn’t know him very well if she thought he’d ever let her get away with how she was behaving. He’d set her straight, couldn’t wait for the right opportunity to do exactly that. He’d been racking his brain all day, trying to figure out how best to accomplish it, but he hadn’t figured it out quite yet. He’d tried to put her at a disadvantage by telling her he planned to take Jayden for the weekend, but she’d actually seemed relieved. He hated the idea that having him sit home and babysit would only enable her to devote every minute of her time to Dawson...
The thought of that conversation made him even angrier, especially when he paired that with what she’d said to him in Lolita’s. She claimed she was finally enjoying sex—only, with someone else.
As Sly drove slowly down the main drag of Silver Springs, he eyed the citizens and drivers he saw on the road with an especially critical eye. The mood he was in, no one was getting away with anything.
He spotted a sleek red sports car pulling out of the gas station and recognized it as belonging to Monty Tremaine, a student this year at New Horizons, and flipped on his lights. Monty hadn’t done anything wrong that he could see, but Sly had never liked him. He’d run into him a time or two at the bowling alley, didn’t feel as if Monty had the proper respect for authority. The boy was too full of himself, too proud of his own status. Most of the students at the boys ranch didn’t even have a car while they were in Silver Springs, but Monty’s father was a movie exec in LA and had lots of dough. Monty’s convertible BMW cost far more than any car a kid should own. What had he ever done to earn anything, except give his parents enough trouble that they’d finally resorted to sending him to a school devoted to behavior control?
Once Monty spotted Sly’s cruiser and the lights flashing behind him, he pulled over at the edge of town. He was on his way back to the school, Sly decided, was headed in that direction. “That’s it, you little bastard. You’d better pull over.”
He felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as he parked behind the BMW, got out and approached the driver side. It bothered him that Monty hadn’t automatically rolled down his window, however. Sly had to wait while he found the button.
“Something wrong, Officer?” The boy looked bewildered—and none too pleased.
That he could be irritated by getting pulled over, instead of frightened, made Sly eager to put the fear of God in him. Who did he think he was, anyway? His father? Someone who mattered in the world?
“Driver’s license, registration and proof of insurance, please.”
Monty gaped at him. “What for?”
Sly didn’t answer, simply held out his hand to show that he could demand whatever he wanted without an explanation.
Monty sighed and reached over to the glove box. He handed Sly his registration and insurance card while he dug his wallet out of his back pocket so he could produce his driver’s license.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” he asked.
Sly fixed the documents to his clipboard and used his flashlight to study them. “I’ll be right back,” he said and returned to his cruiser to run the boy’s information through the computer. He was hoping to find something he could legitimately cite Monty for—expired registration, lack of current insurance, even an unpaid parking ticket, if not something bigger—but everything seemed to be in order. No doubt his rich daddy had seen to that.
Still, this little jerk wasn’t going to drive off without some sort of citation, not with his disrespectful attitude.
After taking a few moments to jot down the boy’s name, address and other information, Sly walked back to Monty and handed him his registration, insurance card and license. “Here you are.”
The boy seemed confused. “So...can I go?”
Sly took his time filling out the rest of the ticket. “Not quite yet.”
Monty removed his hand from the gearshift, where he’d put it when he briefly thought he was free to leave. “Why not?”
“Why do you think?”
“I have no clue, man. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Sly eyed him with a measure of disdain. “You ran a stoplight back there.”
His eyes flared wide. “What are you talking about? I didn’t run any stoplight!”
“You sure did. Just after you came out of the gas station.”
“That’s not true. I saw you. I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to run a stoplight. I wasn’t speeding, either.”
Hearing such umbrage in the young man’s voice made Sly feel a bit better. “I saw you.”
“You couldn’t have seen me, because I didn’t run anything,” he argued. “I’m not going to take a ticket. I’ll fight it.”
“Feel free. But it’ll be a waste of time.” Sly smiled. “What judge is going to take your word over mine?”
Monty’s mouth dropped open. “Especially out here in the boondocks. Is that it?”
“Are you saying our judges are corrupt? I’ll make a note of your opinion, in case I see you in court.” Sly handed him the clipboard with the ticket attached. “Sign here.”
“I’m not going to sign that!”
“Would you rather I take you down to the station?”
“I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “What’d I do? Nothing!”
“You’re not admitting guilt by signing. You can always take it up with the judge, if you want.”
“Sure I can,” he grumbled and scribbled an “X” on the signature line.
“Have a nice evening,” Sly said and gave him the ticket before returning to his cruiser, where he slid behind the wheel. God, he loved his job. He was about to swing around and head back into town, to see if he couldn’t find someone else who deserved a little reminder of the power of the local police, when his cell phone rang. He hoped it would be Sadie. He always hoped it would be Sadie, but he wanted to hear from her now more than ever. He was still holding out hope that she’d plead with him not to take Jayden this weekend, or show some other sign that she’d rather he didn’t. Having Jayden for so long would only be fun if it bothered her.
It wasn’t Sadie, however. It was Dixie Gilbert, the only woman on the police force. She’d been calling him recently, wanting to hang out. He’d gone over there once and let her give him a blow job. She had a thing for him, had made that clear in the past few months, but he wasn’t interested in her. Although he didn’t mind letting her get him off when he didn’t have a better option, he couldn’t be seen with someone so overweight and unattractive. He could do better—much better.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” she said, her voice artificially husky. She was striving for sexy, but he found the affectation annoying.
“I’m on duty tonight,” he told her. “What’s up?”
Taken aback by the brusqueness of his response, she hesitated. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were busy. It’s not like there’s a lot going on in this town even when you are on duty. What, did I interrupt your doughnut break?”
“Is there a reason you called?” he asked.
He expected her to invite him over. She’d offered to make him dinner on three different occasions. So far, he’d only accepted her invitation to watch a movie late at night, and he’d parked down the street so no one would see his car. If the guys on the force thought he was sleeping with her, they’d tease him mercilessly. It wasn’t as if he’d stayed long, anyway. He’d had her blow him as soon as he possibly could, said he was too tired to stay longer and left. “No. I don’t want to upset you. Never mind.”
“What is it?” he pressed. “With what’s been going on in my personal life, I haven’t had the best day.”
“Well...I’m fairly certain that what I have to tell you will only make it worse, so...”
This piqued his interest. Apparently, she wasn’t about to issue another invitation to dinner, after all. “What is it?”
“It’s about your ex-wife.”
He almost corrected her. He and Sadie weren’t divorced yet and wouldn’t be until he decided to let her go. But he bit his tongue. He was getting tired of saying that, would have to prove it instead. “What about her?”
“She’s here, at The Blue Suede Shoe.”
“What’s she doing at the bar?”
“Dancing. With Dawson Reed. They’re here together—and are having a darn good time from the looks of it.”
He gripped the phone so hard the plastic dug into his fingers. “What do you mean by that?”
“They’re dancing about as close as two people can. Looks like she’s madly in love with him. A murderer. Who would’ve thought? Who goes from a cop to a criminal—and then flaunts it around town? She should be ashamed.”
“She isn’t in love with him. He’s messing with her mind, that’s all, making her think he can fix everything that’s wrong in her life. She’ll come around, get straightened out once it dawns on her that isn’t the case.”
“No, she won’t,” Dixie argued. “She’s gone, Sly, and she isn’t coming back. I think it’s time you let her go—and realize that there are other women out there who can make you happy. Haven’t you been through enough with her? I mean, let it end.”
Dixie was glad to see Sadie out with someone else, especially Dawson, Sly realized. She thought it would make him forget about his wife and start seeing her. “I gotta go,” he said.
She hesitated. Then, with a bit more determination, she said, “I’m heading home now and will be there all night, if you’d like to come by. Sometimes it’s easier to get over someone when you have someone else to hang on to, you know?”
He hit the gas pedal, peeled out and swerved into the road, narrowly missing a car coming from the opposite direction. He saw the panic on the driver’s face, but he didn’t care that he’d nearly caused an accident. “I’m not in the mood, Dixie. Not tonight.”
“So what are you going to do? Go home and pout? Drink some more? Word around the station is that you’re drinking too much as it is. People are starting to worry about you.”
“I don’t care what the ‘word’ is. What I do when I’m off duty is my own business. But I’m not going to drink tonight. I’m going over to the bar to knock some sense into Sadie. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Don’t, Sly. You need to let her go!”
“I’ll decide when it’s time for that,” he said and disconnected.
* * *
“I haven’t seen him,” Dawson said. “You ready to move on to another location?”
Sadie hugged him a little closer. “Stairway to Heaven” was playing—an old song, but a good one. She could’ve danced with him like this all night. They weren’t out just to have a good time, but she was having fun in spite of that. She enjoyed being with him regardless of what they were doing. “Not yet.”
“I’d like to stay, too,” he said. “But we’ve been here for over an hour. If we want to gain Sly’s attention, we need to spread ourselves around.”
She noticed Dixie Gilbert coming back into the bar and frowned. “Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“See that woman over there? The one with the short, dark hair?”
Dawson turned her as they danced so that he could take a look without seeming too obvious. “Yeah.”
“She’s on the force with Sly.” Sadie hadn’t thought much of seeing Dixie when they first came in. If Sly spoke of her, it was usually with contempt. He claimed the city had only hired her so that it wouldn’t come under fire for being sexist, that she was a terrible officer. But the loyalty Dixie had shown to Sly when Sadie went in to the station, and the way she was behaving tonight, as if she relished the idea of seeing Sadie out with another guy, made Sadie wonder if there wasn’t something between them in spite of what he’d said about her in the past.
“Unless Sly’s coming to meet her, I don’t see where that’s going to help us,” Dawson mused.
Neither did Sadie. But Dixie had left her seat at the bar, gone outside and returned a few minutes later, as if she’d gone out for a smoke. Except Dixie didn’t smoke. Sadie was thinking she might’ve made a call, might’ve told Sly what she’d been seeing at the bar.
Or was that assuming too much? Most of the patrons in The Blue Suede Shoe were keeping a wary eye on them. That trip outside could simply have meant that Dixie needed a breath of fresh air.
When Dixie paid her bill and gathered her coat, Sadie decided she must’ve been mistaken. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing,” she told Dawson. Just more of the usual bias against him. “Let’s go.”
As soon as Dixie saw them making their way over to the bar, she stopped and waited. “I’d get out of here, if I were you,” she said without preamble.
Sadie blinked at her in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Sly will be here any minute, and he’s pretty pissed. Who knows what he’ll do?” She started to walk out, but Sadie caught her arm.
“You called him?”
Although Dixie didn’t respond, her silence confirmed what Sadie had already guessed.
“Dixie, I know you’ll probably attribute this to jealousy, but I promise you it isn’t. This is one woman trying to look out for another. You don’t know Sly, not the way I do. Unless you want to screw up your life, stay away from him. He’s no good.”
Jerking away, Dixie made as if to leave but turned back at the last moment. “Why would you want to help me?” she asked, suddenly uncertain.
She’d obviously marked the sincerity in Sadie’s voice. “Because I wouldn’t wish a man like Sly on anyone,” Sadie said.
With a brisk nod that suggested she accepted the truth in that statement, Dixie hitched her purse higher on her shoulder. “Like I said, get out of here. That’s me returning the favor.”
Except they’d been hoping to run into Sly. That he’d been alerted that they were at the bar, and was coming to see for himself, was perfect—providing they could avoid an altercation.
“Sounds like Sly’s upset. Do you think we’ve done enough?” Sadie asked Dawson as they watched the door swing shut behind Dixie.
“Just by having a drink and doing a little dancing? No.”
The old uneasiness crept up on her. “Did you say no?”
“We need to put an end to what’s happening, Sadie—the sooner, the better. And the best way to do that is to piss him off so badly he’ll come out to the farm tonight for sure.”
She pictured the expression on Sly’s face when he’d nearly pulled his gun the night of the fire. “That’s a little terrifying, don’t you think? He might not settle for peeping, and I don’t want this to get you killed. Me, either, as far as that goes.”
“We’ll only be safe once he’s behind bars. Let’s deliver him into Chief Thomas’s hands and hope that Thomas will see what’s been going on all along—and put a stop to it.”
Taking a deep breath, she nodded and let him lead her back onto the dance floor.
* * *
Dawson wasn’t looking at the door, but he knew the second Sly walked into the bar. He could sense the change in the room. Sadie seemed to feel the same disturbance. The way she tightened her grip on him as they danced indicated she was uneasy.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “We’re in public. He can’t do anything here.”
“He could always follow us home,” she said.
“He has that meeting at the station, remember? We’ll stay until he leaves. Then we’ll go to the farm and wait for him there.” He pulled her slowly toward the far side of the room, where Sly would have to go to some effort to watch them. Dawson didn’t want to make it too obvious that they were tweaking his nose.
Sadie craned her head to get a peek at her ex. “I can see him searching the crowd.”
“Maybe you should stay at Petra’s tonight,” Dawson said. “Let me handle this.”
“What are you talking about? You know Petra and her family took Jayden with them to her parents’ place in Ojai.”
Thank goodness Petra had been willing to do that, or Sadie would’ve been even more nervous. “Doesn’t mean you can’t sleep at her place, out of the fray.”
“No. I’m not staying there, or anywhere else, alone.”
She made a good point. What if Sly didn’t come out to the farm but went to Petra’s instead, hoping to get hold of Jayden? That would be the worst possible outcome—for Sadie to have an encounter with him on her own. Dawson fully believed he’d harm her if he could. “What about a motel? He won’t be able to find you if we put you in a motel.”
“I’m not leaving you, so don’t even suggest it.”
Dawson was tempted to insist. He probably would have if the chief of police wasn’t coming to the farm. How out of control could things get as long as Thomas was there? “Okay.”
The crowd parted as Sly cut through. “Where’s our son?” he demanded, confronting them while they danced.
“He’s with Petra,” Sadie said.
“Don’t you think he spends enough time there?”
“What are you talking about? He’s hardly there at all anymore. I’m able to keep him with me now that I work for Dawson.”
“I’m going to get him.” He turned as if he’d act on those words, but she spoke before he could get more than a step away.
“They’re out of town, Sly. Won’t be back until tomorrow. She took Jayden with her.”
“What kind of mother are you?” he snarled.
Dawson wanted to punch him in the face. No one had ever deserved it more. But if he started a fight, he’d only enable Sly to claim he was the aggressor, would be playing right into Sly’s hands.
Sadie ignored him, too. They continued to dance until Sly had no choice but to move out of the way. But he didn’t leave. He leaned up against the closest wall and glared daggers at them.
“Hey,” Dawson murmured to Sadie. “Look at me.” He could tell she was worried when she lifted her face. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said and surprised him by kissing him—deeply and with far more passion than he would’ve expected in public.
“He deserves that,” he whispered, trying not to laugh.
“I didn’t do it for him,” she said.
He framed her face with his hands. “Good. Just stay focused on me.”
Sly trailed them around The Blue Suede Shoe from that moment on. If they went to sit down, he followed as far as the bar and stood with his hand resting on the butt of his firearm as if to suggest he had the ability to enforce whatever he wanted. If they danced, he leaned against the wall as close as he could get, wearing a menacing frown.
Whenever Dawson caught his eye, Dawson grinned as if he wasn’t bothered at all. He knew that was probably going too far, but he couldn’t help it. What gave Sly the idea that even a police officer could act the way he was acting?
When it came close to eight—time for the meeting at the station, according to what Chief Thomas had told Dawson—Sly left, as expected, and, shortly after, Dawson guided Sadie out to his truck. “Let’s get home while we’ve got the chance,” he said. He was eager for Chief Thomas to show up so they could explain what Sly had been doing and, hopefully, put an end to it. But just as they pulled into their drive, he received a text message from Thomas.
Something has come up. I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. Will call you tomorrow.
* * *
Sly couldn’t believe it. He sat in the police chief’s office, stunned, as Thomas railed at him. Only the chief wasn’t yelling loudly. He was speaking in a harsh but low voice so that the other officers milling about the station couldn’t hear. His wish for secrecy, more than anything else, told Sly that he was really in trouble this time. Usually, Thomas didn’t hesitate to scream regardless of who was around. “I told you not to go anywhere near that farmhouse!”
“I haven’t!”
“Stop saying that. Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re lying, and I know it!”
“I’m not lying!”
He opened a folder and slapped some pictures on the desk. “Then what the hell are these?”
Sly pulled them closer so that he could take a look. There were no landmarks in the photos, just an up-close shot of some tire impressions in brown dirt. He didn’t recognize their significance until he noticed the water pump in one corner. “Oh shit,” he mumbled, covering his face before Chief Thomas could say any more.
“Those tire tracks match the brand of tires on our cruisers,” he said. “I checked.”
That meant any cruiser could’ve made those tracks. These pictures weren’t good enough to show the small imperfections that set his tires apart from all the rest. But Sly knew better than to make that argument. He’d lose all credibility if he tried.
“You’re a police officer, for God’s sake,” his chief went on. “What are you doing stalking your ex-wife?”
Sly shot to his feet. “She’s not my ex!”
“Only because you won’t let her go. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing’s the matter with me! I’m trying to protect her, that’s all. I’m terrified that he’s going to hurt her. He’s a murderer!”
“We’ve been over this. She has the right to stay with anyone she wants.”
“The cop in me agrees. But the man behind the badge? How do you think I’d feel if she were to wind up like the Reeds? And what about my child? Jayden lives out on that farm, too. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be hanging around in case of trouble if it were your wife and child.”
Thomas rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll be honest, Sly. That’s the only reason we’re sitting here. Dawson and Sadie set up a little trap for you tonight. They asked me to come out there, to be waiting for you when you showed up at this particular spot.” He tapped the pictures. “But I couldn’t do it. You know why? Because if I caught you out there, I’d have to suspend you for disobeying my direct orders. Instead, being the nice guy that I am, I’ve decided to give you one more chance to remain on the force. Do you hear me? I understand that you care about Sadie and Jayden, so much that losing them is making you a little crazy. But you can’t break the law and expect to keep your job. Stay away from the Reed farm. This is your final warning.”
Sly bowed his head as if he was taking every word to heart. “I will. I swear. Thank you.”
“I mean it,” Thomas reiterated as Sly headed for the door. “This is your last chance.”
Hunching his shoulders as if he’d been sufficiently berated and felt terrible for the trouble he’d caused, Sly nodded again. But as soon as he was free of the station, he straightened. He’d never been more livid in his life, never more determined. Sadie and Dawson would not make a fool of him. He wouldn’t take his cruiser back to where he’d parked it before. But he would go to the farm, and he’d do what he should’ve done already: prove—at least to everyone else—that he’d been right about Dawson Reed all along.
The fact that Jayden was with Petra tonight gave him the perfect opportunity.