The Sheriff's Second Chance

by Tanya Agler

  She arched her eyebrow. “What challenge?”

  Her smartphone buzzed, and she dug it out of her pocket. The text from Kitty was short and sweet.

  Your mother would like you to stop for chamomile tea. She’d like it delivered within the hour.

  Georgie’s fingers flew across the screen as she typed in an affirmative reply. “Duty calls as my mother is in desperate need of her favorite bedtime drink.”

  She went and opened the back door of her car for Beau, stopping to glance over her shoulder. Mike now stood on the edge of his driveway, his grin all the wider, as if he’d never doubted she’d look back.

  * * *

  “WHAT’S BEHIND THE DINER?” Mike approached Donahue, whose thick gloves nearly came up to his elbows.

  “Received an anonymous tip about electronics in the dumpster. Since you’re the lead, I waited for you.” Donahue stepped toward the receptacle.

  Mike donned his protective gloves and grabbed his flashlight. Peering inside, he found, among banana peels and chunks of chicken-fried steak, a couple of tablets and placed them in an evidence bag. “This seems almost too convenient. Why now?”

  “More important, who has access to this dumpster?” Donahue jotted something on his notepad.

  “The diner, Farr’s Hardware and Max’s garage, although they also use another for environmental purposes.”

  “Georgie Bennett enters the picture again.”

  Shaking his head, Mike sealed the evidence bags. “Georgie didn’t live here when the crimes began, and she wouldn’t throw these away in plain sight.”

  Donahue tilted his head toward downtown. “I’ll meet you in my office after you dust for prints and log them into the evidence area.”

  Before Mike could say anything else, Donahue was gone.

  Back at the station, Mike finished logging in the stolen items. When Donahue hired the two officers whose vacancies had thrown more work his way, his load might become manageable again.

  Keeping Donahue in place was his top priority, along with solving the burglaries and clearing Georgie’s name.

  Donahue strode by, his shoes thumping along the gray epoxy floor. “It’s Hollydale Florists. Let’s go.”

  Mike followed and slid into the passenger seat. “What’s happened?”

  “Another B&E.” Exasperation laced Donahue’s voice. He started the car. “Door jimmied. Petty cash and small electronics taken. The security company alerted us.”

  Mike flipped through his notebook. “This makes six that follow the same pattern.”

  “It’s the seventh overall.” Donahue pulled out of the lot. “And ever since Georgie Bennett came back to town, they’re increasing in frequency.”

  “I’m not sure whether to count Max’s Auto Repair with the others, and Georgie wasn’t in town for the first thefts,” said Mike, returning his notebook to his pocket.

  Arriving at the scene, Mike greeted the owner and processed the evidence, not that he found much. Dusting for fingerprints yielded nothing. If it weren’t for the petty cash jar being empty and the back door ajar, there wouldn’t be any signs of a theft.

  Promising the owner to keep her updated, Mike and the sheriff exited the business. Once outside, Mike took a deep breath and released it, wondering what had happened to his town. The sheriff looked up and down Main Street as if trying to figure out where he was.

  “Community heat is building, you know,” said Donahue.

  His boss’s message came through loud and clear. Mike had to figure this out and soon.

  “Any word on new recruits? They’d help with surveillance.” Not to mention save Mike. He’d like to eat dinner with Rachel once in a blue moon. She was growing up so fast. Soon the days of tucking her in would come to a close.

  “Talked to the head of the Tar Heel Recruit Academy yesterday. They’re almost finished with a twenty-nine-week training session. Also had a résumé from an Atlanta officer this past week. I’ve arranged an interview and a ride through Daleford County.” Donahue shrugged as he scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t have much hopes for that one. City detective. He’d be taking quite a pay cut to work here.”

  “If your wife made him her pot roast and chocolate cake, he’d be convinced.” Mike gave a half smile.

  Donahue cracked a grin back as he patted his stomach. “Melanie does make a fine chocolate cake. Once we’re not spread so thin, things will lighten up.” He held up his hand. “I know. We need two someones, but who’s counting? Until then don’t make any vacation plans.”

  The sheriff brought up his chin, his usual manner of dismissal. Mike took a step toward the cruiser, and Donahue cleared his throat. “Wait. Talk to your mom about watching Rachel overnight sometime next week. The perps who’re doing this might know we’re down two officers. This way, they won’t see us coming.”

  As much as he hated time away from Rachel, nipping this chain of B&Es was in everyone’s best interests. “I’ll arrange it today.”

  “Do it. While you’re at it, set up the laser gun on the new stretch of State Road 41, heading out of town.”

  Groaning, Mike shook his head. “You sure about that? What if Evelyn Andrews is doing seventy in a forty-five again?”

  Donahue scoffed and rolled his eyes. “When I hired her nephew, Billy, he had impeccable references from the academy. Didn’t take into account the first speeding ticket he ever issued would be against his aunt.”

  “Or that his mother, who’s won more than her fair share of blue ribbons for her pies, would threaten to cut him off if he didn’t get that ticket dismissed.” Mike laughed in spite of everything. More reasons not to throw his hat into the sheriff’s ring. Donahue was much better suited for the politics of the job. “Guess peach pie is a good reason to quit when you’re twenty-one and risk a lifetime expulsion from family gatherings.”

  “Yeah, but lousy for us.” Donahue headed for their vehicle, and Mike followed. “You should be able to meet your quota for the year out there.”

  Returning to his desk, Mike grabbed his laser gun and stopped. Should he call his mother or wait until later? His key ring on the desk caught his attention. The triangular hole for the key of the Thunderbird stood out from the others.

  He picked up the ring and tapped the older key against the edge of his desk. He still hadn’t listed the car for sale. With Georgie’s words echoing in his mind, he’d researched the difference in value. Her assessment proved correct. Cars in mint condition brought in almost double the amount as ones with a list of repairs a mile long. If he could restore the car, he’d fetch a whole lot more dollars, even after subtracting the price of parts and labor.

  And it wouldn’t happen right away. He’d be sure that he and Rachel could have one farewell ride in Miss Brittany. With the top down, she’d love the wind blowing through her hair. Rachel’s giggles kept him motivated on his long days on the job.

  But asking Georgie to do the work? He gulped and blew out a deep breath. She’d knocked the equilibrium he’d found in the past eight years off kilter. After Georgie had left his house last night, he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. The results hadn’t been pretty. Splattering the sauce all over the cooktop. Pouring half a container of Parmesan cheese on top of his spaghetti. Reading the same page three times to Rachel. All thanks to Georgie’s honest response to the indignity he’d done to Grandpa’s car.

  If she had only listened to his explanation...

  Mike laughed, predicting what Georgie would do. She’d pop her hands onto her hips and send that gaze piercing into his forehead, reminding him excuses were regrets wrapped in fancy paper. She’d cut him down before he finished.

  Grabbing his keys, he hurried out to his squad car, its utilitarian lines a far cry from the Thunderbird’s classic ones. No sign of rust anywhere.

  Unlike his heart.

  CHAPTER SIX

&nbs
p; “TWO MORE CANCELLATIONS, DARLIN’.” Heidi banged down the phone and began doodling on the nearby notepad. “When I said Travis wasn’t available, they didn’t rebook.”

  As much as she wanted to pound her head into the wall after a week of pure frustration, Georgie stopped short and moved toward the reception desk instead. “What excuses did they use this time?”

  Five cancellations in the past two days had really hit home. This reeked of being more personal than anything. Short of offering to work for free, she didn’t know what to do. This Tuesday morning was going downhill fast.

  “One person claimed the rash of robberies was making her ill and she was staying away from downtown until the police caught the thief. The other, though...” Heidi winced and shook her head. “Everyone knows Clyde Spratt is Dick Crabtree’s only friend. Everyone in town avoids them like a pair of dead possums.”

  If customers didn’t start returning soon, she’d be giving back to Max the keys to a bankrupt business. She should tell Max about her shot at the pit crew position. At the least, she should tell Heidi and Travis. That way someone else could take her place.

  No. Then it would look like she was hiding something. And she didn’t have the position yet. She needed something to fall back on.

  Georgie exhaled a long, deep breath and stuck her hands into her coverall pockets. “Thanks.”

  “Bless my heart. You look like a country music song. Is Beau okay? Your mama? You don’t own a truck, so it’s not that.” Heidi came closer, so close her face was next to Georgie’s. “You’re whiter than clean sheets on a clothesline.”

  Georgie squirmed and moved back. Heidi’s concern was downright maternal. Georgie smiled on the inside. It was nice having someone care. “Nothing like that.”

  “Cheer up, or Max will call me again like he did last night. Told me I wasn’t doing a good enough job taking care of you.”

  Startled, Georgie blinked. “I do have a confession. He’s asked me to buy him out. I’m worried about him.”

  “Don’t fret none. He’ll come back better than ever. Rosie wants him to stay awhile longer, and he has a hard time saying no to his sister.” Heidi hugged her and broke away. “By the way, Max asked us to buy him out last year. We said no. Travis and I would like to retire sooner rather than later.” She wiggled her finger toward Georgie. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Missy and her husband, Bobby, are seeing a fertility specialist. We’re helping with the cost of the IVF treatment. If it’s successful, we’ll be welcoming our first grandchild next year. That’s why we’re traveling now. Getting it out of our system so we can spend more time with the family later.”

  Family. In Hollydale, everyone seemed to help one another. If they trusted you, that is.

  “I see.”

  “We just can’t afford all of it. With the traveling and the IVF, we’re stretched thinner than a cheap rubber band. Max said he understood.”

  Before Georgie could answer, the cowbell over the door jangled. A woman with blond hair tied back in a ponytail entered with two children, a boy tugging on one hand, while a girl held on to the other as if for dear life. The woman’s haggard face gave Georgie pause, as if the woman was having an even worse day than she. The streaks of chocolate on her T-shirt only confirmed Georgie’s suspicions.

  “Is Max here?” Her soft drawl sounded familiar, as if Georgie had heard it before, but she couldn’t place it.

  “What you see is what you get.” Georgie was fed up. It was about time people allowed her to do her job. “I’m fully trained and I’m a good mechanic.” Georgie approached them. “How can I make your car run better today?”

  The woman laughed and lifted the left side of her mouth in a wry, gut-wrenching half smile. “It would take a miracle and money I don’t have in the bank to do that.” She squinted at Georgie. “Oh, my goodness gracious. Georgie Bennett, is that you?”

  Without further ado, the woman released the children’s hands and ran to Georgie, hugging her with all her might.

  Gasping at the stranger’s hug, Georgie stiffened and tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me. You seem to know me, but I don’t know you.”

  “Guess I have changed that much. I’m Lucie Decker—well, I used to be Lucie Appleby.”

  Georgie’s eyes widened. This was Lucie, the most popular girl in school? Lucie’s family had more money than Scrooge at one point, but something had changed. Georgie shook away her shock and gave a semblance of a smile, softening upon meeting the gazes of the two little ones, not more than six years old. “How can I be of service today?”

  Lucie bit her lip and fingered the edge of her purse. Heidi cleared her throat, and Georgie felt like a yo-yo with her head going back and forth so much.

  “Excuse me, darlin’.” Heidi tapped Georgie’s shoulder. “You remember that spill in the office. Let’s clean it up.” Heidi gestured toward Max’s office, which seemed downright empty today without Beau.

  Georgie smiled at Lucie, then followed Heidi.

  Heidi made sure the door was shut. “Hasn’t your mother kept you afloat of anything that’s been going on in Hollydale?”

  Georgie shook her head. “If it doesn’t concern her health, her shopping sprees or her, pretty much the answer would be no.”

  “Lucie’s parents died in a car accident while she was in college.” Heidi wrung her hands. “She was so upset that she married the first guy who came along, and he ended up embezzling all her money, as well as the money of half the residents of Hollydale. As much as she wants to move, she can’t afford to start over anywhere else.”

  Lucie Decker, broke and desperate, with two kids to support? A far cry from the effervescent teenager who could rally anyone to her cause and make it their own. “What does that have to do with Max?”

  Rolling her eyes, Heidi sent her a look of pure exasperation. Georgie gave a weak smile in return. Engines and axles? She could fix those any day of the week. People? Not so much.

  “She struck a chord with Max.” Heidi fluffed some lint off Georgie’s shoulder. “He said she reminded him of his mother.”

  Georgie nodded. Max often spoke of his widowed mother, who’d endured and thrived while raising her son and daughter in the fifties and sixties but never remarried. “What can I do?”

  “Max okayed Lucie to clean the office on Sundays, drop off casseroles and the like for the cost of labor. Then he allowed her to cover the cost of the parts through a payment plan. You should do the same.”

  “Now we’re on the same wavelength.” Relief stopped her squirming toes. “Gotcha.”

  Heidi pointed to the door. “Get out of here before she leaves in that clunker of hers.”

  That was enough time wasted gossiping. Georgie strode into the waiting area. “What’s wrong with your car, Lucie?”

  “Nothing too bad. I’m sure it can wait.” Lucie glanced at each child, worry evident in her hazel eyes.

  This wasn’t the voice of the Lucie she’d known, that peppy assertiveness of someone breezing through life. Lucie turned and walked toward the door.

  Huffing, Georgie hurried over, blocking the door before her former classmate could go. “You said your car needs servicing.” She met Lucie’s gaze and pointed to the two little ones, as it was obvious that was how to get through the shame written all over Lucie’s face. “Come outside and tell me what’s wrong. Heidi will take care of the little ones for a minute while we talk.”

  Lucie bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. “Do you mind? Mattie and Ethan are usually good for other people.”

  “Not at all. It’ll be excellent practice for when Missy has babies.” Heidi held out her hands for the kids. “Come on, you two. You can sit behind the desk with me and be my helpers.”

  Georgie led the way outside, and Lucie pointed to a white PT Cruiser that had seen better days, years, decades. “This car is how old? Ten? Eleven?”

>   Lucie sighed, her eyes tentative. “Twelve. It’s a clunker, but it’s mine. It gets me to work and to the twins’ day care.”

  Georgie wiggled her fingers. “Keys, please, along with a list of what’s wrong.”

  “The car whines, and it takes a couple of times to turn over. When I was on the parkway last week, the car seemed to hesitate.” Lucie paused before handing over her keys. “Is it something a simple oil change can fix?”

  If only. “Sounds like a bad fuel pump. I’ll take it into the garage and look it over.”

  “Are those cheap?” Lucie’s shoulders dropped a couple of inches.

  “Depends on your definition of cheap.”

  For the Lucie of old, a couple of hundred dollars hadn’t been a big deal. In high school her designer shoes and purses had been proof of that. Georgie’s gaze went to Lucie’s handbag, falling apart at the seams. For this Lucie, the repair price might be exorbitant.

  “I’d have to check the price of a new pump, but they run between two and four hundred dollars, plus labor.”

  Alarm registered on Lucie’s face. She tried to pluck the keys out of Georgie’s hand. “It’ll have to wait.”

  “A bad fuel pump can’t wait to be repaired.”

  “How bad could it be? I’ll take my chances.” Lucie tapped her foot and held out her hand.

  Georgie shook her head and inserted the key in the ignition. Cranking it, she waited for the familiar sound of an engine igniting, but nothing came. Trying again produced the same result. The third time was finally the charm, but for how much longer? This car wasn’t safe, and Georgie wasn’t about to let Lucie on the road.

  “Your fuel pump won’t hold out much longer. I’m not feeding you a line, either. I don’t have kids who need braces, and I don’t have a vacation home in the Smokies that needs renovating. Pure and simple, this car won’t start by week’s end. Worse yet, it could stop all of a sudden, causing an accident, and your kids might be in the car.”

  “I can’t let that happen, but I can’t afford this.” She sounded horrified and planted her face in her hands. “I’m not the same Lucie from high school. Considering I never stopped to talk to you in the hallways, you might think that’s a good thing.”