She shook her head. “Eugene. My grandfather was a professor at the university there.”
She had always found it ironic—and rather frightening—that her grandfather could have been so beloved on campus yet so harsh and dictatorial at home.
“I graduated from high school a year early and moved to Portland as soon as I could in order to go to art school. My grandfather wasn’t at all happy about it, but I took out loans and earned scholarships and basically told him to go to hell.”
He made a disbelieving sound. “Did you? Somehow I can’t quite picture that.”
“Why?”
He appeared to choose his words carefully. “You’re a very nice person. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, even when I’ve been an ass. Somehow I can’t see you telling anyone to go to hell.”
She did consider herself nice, but that wasn’t the same as weak.
He wasn’t completely wrong, she had to admit. She hated the frightened shadow of herself who had first come to Haven Point. She wanted to be strong and confident again, the woman she had been before Jason died and the world crashed in—and especially the woman she had been before she allowed Rob Warren to climb inside her head and torment her for months.
“You might be surprised,” she told Marshall. “I might look like your average suburban mom now, but there was a time when I was an art school rebel. Henna tattoos, purple hair, emo black clothes and all. I even smoked a joint once at a party. Oh, wait. I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Are you going to arrest me now, Sheriff?”
He gave a rough, amused sound that did crazy things to her nerve endings. When she glanced over, she found he wasn’t quite smiling, but almost.
“You went to art school in Portland. Isn’t that part of the required curriculum?”
This time she was the one who laughed. “If it was, I failed that part of my education miserably. It made me sick, if you want the truth, just like a certain former president I won’t name, so I never tried it again. I guess now you know my guilty secret.”
He knew other things about her, she remembered. Dark, horrible things that the whole town knew had happened to her.
“Anyway,” she said quickly, “a year later I met a handsome rookie cop at the coffee shop where I waitressed so I could make ends meet. Somehow he saw past my attitude and kept coming back for more of the restaurant’s lousy coffee. Eventually he asked me out and the rest is history.”
It was sad history, yes, but lately she’d begun to think about Jason without the crushing pain of loss.
She had lost the husband she loved, yet she couldn’t regret any of it. Pain and all, that fairy tale that ended so sadly had produced two amazing children who filled her world with joy and light and purpose.
“And now here you are creating a new history for your children.”
His words and the quiet understanding in them sent goose bumps rippling over her skin. Yes. That was exactly what she was doing—trying to give Chloe and Will the warm, happy life she hadn’t known herself, in a town that had embraced them all.
“It’s worked out better than I ever could have hoped,” she said softly. “It was pure chance I picked Haven Point when things became intolerable in Portland. I was in desperate need of a refuge, and what better place than a town that had haven in the name?”
He was silent for a long time. When she glanced over, she saw his features looked stony, cold. Dangerous.
When he finally spoke, his voice was as hard as his features. “I wish I’d torn that bastard Rob Warren to pieces during the months he stayed at my jail.”
* * *
SHE GAVE HIM a shocked look for just an instant, then turned her attention back to the road, blinking rapidly, and Marshall saw her fingers tighten on the steering wheel.
“It must have been tough for you, trying to be courteous to the man who shot your sister,” she said.
He hadn’t been thinking of his sister just now, though he supposed he should have been. “He messed with a Bailey, which was a big mistake,” he acknowledged. “What he did to you—a fellow cop’s widow? That’s unforgivable, in my book.”
Every time he thought about what had happened to the kind, compassionate woman behind the wheel of her SUV, Marshall wanted to pound something.
He hated thinking someone had taken advantage of her sorrow, her neediness, and forced himself on her.
She had been violently raped by a man she had trusted, her husband’s partner and a man she had relied on in the first difficult months after Jason Montgomery gave his life trying to rescue someone else.
Rob Warren was a narcissistic sociopath who had masqueraded as one of the good guys for too damn long. The only solace Marshall could find in the whole thing was remembering that ex-cops rarely fared well in prison.
Yeah, he had no right to feel so protective of her, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
“You have no idea how tough it was for me to treat him as anything but the garbage he is,” he said. “I had to limit my interactions with him. In the few months he was an inmate at the jail, my deputies figured out early that Warren is really good at manipulating other people’s emotions and goading them into saying and doing things they would rather not. We had to keep him segregated from the other inmates or risk a full-on riot.”
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s a beautiful day. I would really rather not talk about him.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I wasn’t thrilled about the plea deal he accepted, but at least he’s in prison now, where he belongs. I have decided I won’t give him the satisfaction of wasting another moment of my life thinking about him.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” he said.
She was much tougher than she appeared on the surface, with a deep, unexpected core of strength. Not only was he fiercely attracted to her, but he admired her far more than he wanted to admit.
“Am I going the right way?” she asked.
“Yes. Turn onto Center Street and head up the hill.”
Shelter Springs was a nice town, with charms of its own, but the downtown wasn’t quite as quaint and picturesque as Haven Point.
“Turn in there,” he said, pointing to the square, bland complex of buildings that held the county offices.
She obeyed and pulled into the parking lot.
“You can park there,” he said, gesturing to an empty spot a few stalls down the row.
“Why? I can just drop you at the door, then pull into the space so I can carry in your laptop.”
“I don’t need your help.”
She frowned. “You are a stubborn man, Sheriff Bailey.”
“I believe you’ve mentioned that.”
“What can you possibly gain by forcing yourself to go an extra thirty feet on your crutches through a possibly icy parking lot, especially when there’s no good reason?”
He didn’t want to have to explain himself to her, but he supposed she deserved it after she had gone to all the trouble of bringing him to work.
“There is a good chance somebody inside that building tried to run me down five days ago. By now, they probably know I suspect an inside job, no matter what the idiots at the state police say. It’s important, under the circumstances, that I appear at my department from a position of confidence and strength. I appreciate the ride and your help, but I need to carry in my own bag. The crutches are bad enough. If I could lose them, I would in a heartbeat.”
The look she gave him was not without sympathy, though it was mingled with a healthy dose of exasperation. “I’m glad you’ve at least got enough sense to know you need the crutches.”
“I’m stubborn. I’m not completely stupid.”
She didn’t look convinced as she pulled into the space he i
ndicated. “I could carry the laptop up to the door for you and just not come inside. That way you won’t reveal a hint of weakness.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. Right now he was more concerned about not revealing how touched he was by her concern for him, even though he knew he shouldn’t be.
After she parked, she slid out of the driver’s side and walked around the vehicle to pull the damn crutches and the bag in question out of the backseat, then she hovered close to make sure he could pull himself out of the seat and up onto his good leg and the crutches—not as easy a task as it should have been.
When he was on his feet, she handed him the bag and he slung it, messenger-style, around his neck and under one arm.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Positive. No problem.”
He would be a little off balance, carrying the bulky laptop bag, but he could handle it.
“When do you need me to come back?”
“Should we say two hours? That should be long enough for the staff briefing and to download the files I need from the secured server. Is that enough time for you to finish your shopping here in town?”
“I only have a few small items. I’ll be back here just before noon, then.” She paused. “Good luck. Be careful.”
He nodded and made his way across the parking lot, careful to watch for speeding vehicles that might come at him out of nowhere. It likely would be a long time before he could comfortably walk across a parking lot without remembering headlights zooming toward him out of the darkness.
CHAPTER TEN
HE WAS JUST as watchful when he walked into the building, this time to gauge the reaction of his personnel to his presence.
As he might have expected, everyone acted shocked to see him and eager to talk about his injuries and the accident. Though he wanted to deflect each inquiry—talking about himself had never been his favorite thing—he was compelled by the circumstances to sift through each conversation for any clues he might find pertinent to the investigation.
As far as he could tell, the concern of most of his deputies seemed genuine. The two exceptions were Ken Kramer, of course, and Curtis Wall. Though they, like everyone, expressed sympathy, the smirks they both wore and the insincerity of their tones indicated something else.
The most upset person in the office seemed to be Jackie Scott. His administrative assistant couldn’t even talk to him without her eyes welling up with tears.
“You’re just so brave about this,” she said, sniffling, as he tried to go over the agenda for the briefing with her.
“I wouldn’t say that. It was scary as hell and I won’t deny it. But I’m here and I’m fine, for the most part. The leg will heal.”
When it looked as if she would start crying again, he did his best to deflect her attention. “More important, how are you?” he asked. She really did look a wreck.
Though she was only in her early forties and was usually groomed to perfection, right now she looked much older, with dark circles under her eyes and her usual professional hairstyle looking ragged and unkempt.
“Fine,” she answered quickly. He didn’t need to be a detective to know she was lying.
“What’s going on? Is it Jeremy?”
Jackie had walked a tough road the last few years since her investment banker husband walked out on her and their teenage son to take up with a cocktail waitress from Coeur d’Alene.
Her son had taken his father’s defection hard and Jeremy had tangled with the law more than once over the past two years.
If circumstances had been different, he would have liked to confide in her about Christopher and ask her advice. With everything she had going on, he couldn’t do it.
“Everything’s fine,” she said, which he was smart enough to know was clearly a lie. “You don’t need to worry about me. You need to focus on getting better, that’s all.”
“And finding the bastard who did this.”
Her smile looked wobbly. “That, too. Are you...any closer to finding answers?”
He pondered what to tell her, then decided on the truth. She might be able to help more than he’d considered.
“Close the door, Jackie.”
Looking wary, she complied, then sat down in the visitor’s chair across from his desk.
“I need you to tell me the truth.”
Her mouth sagged for a moment. “About...about what?”
“What’s been going on around here the last few days?”
She looked somewhat surprised at the question. “Everyone’s worried about you, if that’s what you mean. And I’ve had a devil of a time keeping Ken out of this office. He seems to think because the county commission named him acting sheriff, he can completely take over, but I reminded him you will be back before he knows it. Other than that, everything seems to be normal. Why?”
“Have any of the other deputies been acting suspiciously?”
She stared. “You think it was someone from the department who did this to you?”
“I wish I could rule it out as a possibility.”
“I’m sure that can’t be true.” Her eyes were wide, her mouth slack. “Nobody here would hurt you. Why would they?”
“Maybe I’m in someone’s way. You said yourself Ken has been pushing to get into the office. It could be a power play.”
Her hands shook as she brushed them down her thighs. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that. I hate thinking someone I work with every day—someone I joke with in the break room—might be capable of something so...cold-blooded.”
“I don’t have anything concrete, only suspicions at this point. I would just ask you to keep an ear to the ground. Let me know if you hear any whispering in that break room that might point in a particular direction.”
“I will. I sure will, Sheriff Bailey.”
He hated adding another layer of stress to her already heavy burden. But if he wanted to figure out what was going on, he would have to gather those he trusted around him.
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you, Jackie. Seriously. You keep the whole department running smoothly.”
She sniffled, her eyes suspiciously red. “Thank you,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I love my job. I don’t know where I would have been without it after...after Bobby left. This job and Jeremy are all I have.”
Her depressed tone left him worried for her. Jackie was a dedicated, loyal employee. He had inherited her from the previous sheriff and she had done all she could to make his transition in the office as painless as possible.
“You need more than just this job,” he advised. “I’ve never asked. Do you belong to any clubs or anything?”
“Clubs?” She gave him a blank look.
“I don’t know. Clubs, church groups, social circles. A friend of mine in Haven Point belongs to a group whose entire objective is to help people in need around town. Maybe you could find something like that here in Shelter Springs. Or if there isn’t one, maybe you could start it.”
“I don’t know if I would have anything to offer something like that. Who would even want me?”
Had he really been so blind that he hadn’t realized his assistant seemed to be on the brink of a serious depression?
“Sure you do,” he answered, even though he really didn’t have time to cheerlead her right now, with everything else he had going on. “You’ve got plenty to offer. You’re warm and kind and you genuinely want to help people. You’re the most organized person I know and one of the most honest.”
Now her eyes did well up with tears. He shifted, uncomfortable from more than just his blasted leg. He was more than a little relieved when a knock sounded at the door.
“I asked everybody to come in here for the briefing,” Marshall explained. “I figured it was easier tha
n me trying to hobble down the hall. Can you bring a few more chairs in?”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
He should have tried harder to help her these last few months and he felt guilty that he hadn’t. He didn’t want to think anything good could come out of his injury, but if it left him a little more aware of those around him and what they might be going through, he supposed it couldn’t be all bad.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Eventually,” she said with a sad smile.
The door opened and a couple of his deputies came in for the briefing before he had a chance to address her again.
* * *
BY THE TIME the hour-long meeting was over, his leg ached like a son of a bitch and his head wasn’t much better.
At least he had a little more clarity that the sheriff’s department was indeed a house divided. Ken Kramer took every opportunity to challenge Marsh’s leadership, with sly remarks and subtle opposition. He was joined by Curtis, as if they were joined at the hip. Could the two of them together have planned the hit-and-run? Both knew he had worked the Foster case and still dug into it whenever possible.
He didn’t want to think he was going to have to clean house, but the conclusion was becoming inevitable.
He asked Ruben to stay behind after the meeting to update him on the state of the investigation—which had come to a standstill, apparently.
“I’m getting nowhere. I’m sorry, Marsh.”
After he gave his report, Marshall had to agree. In five days, all they had was a stolen vehicle with no identifying forensics.
When he finished giving his report and they talked strategy going forward, Ruben gave him a careful look. “Need me to give you a ride back to Haven Point?”
He was trying hard enough to return integrity and honor to the office that he didn’t want any appearance of wrongdoing.
“You’re on duty. I’ve got a friend picking me up.”
That was the second time that morning he had referred to Andrea Montgomery as his friend. It was something of a shock to realize it was nothing less than the truth. He was coming to care about her, entirely too much.
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