In Full Force: Badges of Becker County

by Kathy Altman

  “You two practically lived at Jerzy’s. Anyone who ate there saw you together. It was humiliating. Jerzy had no right, encouraging you like he did.”

  “So to punish him, you burned down his restaurant?”

  For the first time since she’d walked into the kitchen, Roberta looked uneasy. “I decided that if you two didn’t have a place to hang out, you wouldn’t spend so much time together.”

  “But, why now?” Charity choked out. “Why tell me this now?”

  “Men keep secrets.” Roberta’s throat worked. “That’s just what they do. You should know. Husband, son, lover, doesn’t matter. That’s what they do.”

  Grady came in then, and Charity turned slowly toward him. “It was you,” she whispered. “You’re the one who financed Shack Part Two.”

  “What the hell, Mother?” He scowled at Roberta, wrapped his hand around Charity’s upper arm, and led her out into the hallway. When he released her he pushed all ten fingers through his hair. “Dammit, I wanted to be the one to tell you. I tried, the night you came to me after Dix’s wife died.”

  She remembered. She’d cut him off, terrified he’d wanted to talk about his feelings. “Why didn’t you tell me twelve years ago?”

  “I didn’t know then. I didn’t figure it out until after you left that message, asking me not to call again. By then, the damage was done.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “And she’d promised to go to rehab.”

  “Did she?”

  The regret in Grady’s eyes belied the wry twist of his lips. “It didn’t take. Either time.” Something clattered in the kitchen and Grady frowned over his shoulder. “Look, can we just…” He shepherded her into a room to their left…a library, or a study…flicked on the light and shut the door. The room smelled like lemons, and old books.

  “Char. I’m sorry. About all of this. I have a feeling if I hadn’t come downstairs to find you, you’d be halfway home by now.”

  Charity was tired. So tired and dizzy. “You lied to me. We swore we’d always be honest with each other and you lied. You let me think Hank or Lucas had done it.”

  “I’ve been wanting to make it right with you. At the same time, I dreaded telling you. Giving you one more reason to resent me.” He moved closer, and smoothed his palms up and down her arms. “Please tell me you understand.”

  A sense of betrayal welled up inside her, so bleak and heavy it nearly forced her to her knees. She jerked away from him, stumbling back until her hip bumped the arm of a brown leather recliner. “You used me. You used my family to keep your mother out of prison.”

  “No. Not at first.” He reached out. When she pushed her shoulders back, and rested her hands on her rig in “official capacity” mode, he let his hand drop. “I wanted to tell you.”

  “But you didn’t. Which means I agreed to sucker the sheriff for nothing. And not only Pratt, but the fire chief, too. Halliday hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since.” She shook her head, chin sliding back and forth in denial. “The other day, outside the liquor store… Why didn’t you tell me then? I told you things…and all the while you knew…” The thickness in her throat threatened to choke her.

  Grady stood stock still in front of a wall of books, the track lighting above highlighting his grim mouth and helpless expression. Charity gulped in a breath and pictured the teenage version of him grappling with turning his mother in for a crime she’d only claimed she committed—a crime they had no proof of. Struggling to make that decision must have been hell.

  But…he’d lied.

  “You know what?” she whispered, and let her arms drop to her sides. “I do get it. She’s your mother. And in the end you made it right with Jerzy.” She held up a shaking hand when Grady took a step closer. “I understand, but I can’t forgive.”

  “Then tell me what I have to do so you will forgive me,” Grady said. “Because I love you, and I want to take you home with me to Seattle.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As Grady watched the shock and rejection seep into Charity’s eyes, the inside of his chest pulsed with a sudden panicked need for air. Dammit, he never had timed these conversations right with her.

  Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to see this through.

  He approached her slowly, encouraged when she didn’t back away. Then again, at the moment she looked barely capable of breathing, let alone moving. He cupped her shoulders, slid his hands down her arms, and threaded his fingers through hers. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. We’re getting a second chance here. Come back with me. Be with me.”

  She stared at him mutely.

  He lifted an eyebrow, forcing an unconcerned expression. “You’re not convinced. That’s okay, I’m a convincing kind of guy. Let’s start with how you can’t live without me. How I can’t live without you. How my kid can’t live without you, even though he doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Grady, I can’t. I can’t be with you.”

  The words Grady had dreaded slammed into his chest, like he’d belly-flopped into his parents’ pool. He couldn’t breathe, and it hurt like hell. “Why not?”

  “You know why not,” she said in a choked whisper.

  “Tell me.”

  Her throat bobbed. “I’m established here. I have a career. Now that Bloom’s out of the running for sheriff, I have no problem serving as undersheriff. In fact, I need to serve as undersheriff. I have some mistakes to make up for. Anyway, I like it here. I don’t want to live in the city. You were the one who couldn’t wait to head for the coast.” She sidled around him and headed for the door.

  He followed, and braced a palm against the door. “Is it really about the city? Or is it because twice now I’ve had my head up my ass and made life miserable for you?”

  “It’s everything,” she said to his hand. “We don’t belong together. We especially don’t belong together in the city.”

  “You haven’t tried living in the city.”

  She turned, and leaned her left shoulder against the door. “I went to police academy in Great Falls. I lived there for six years.”

  Heat flushed through his body and he wanted to kick the goddamned door. He started to point, made a fist of his left hand instead and jammed it in the front pocket of his hoodie. “You’re not in Becker County because you enjoy the country. You’re here because you’re serving penance. You wear your martyrdom like you wear that damned badge. You’re trying to make up for every single time one of your brothers hotwired a pickup or beat someone up for beer money. But you’re never going to be able to do enough. How long ’til you figure it out? You’re too good for this place. You don’t belong here.”

  “I do.” She launched upright. “And anyway, that’s not for you to decide.”

  “Jesus, you’re stubborn. It’s almost like you don’t think you deserve—” Realization doused him like a cup of cold water. He noted the guardedness in her expression, and his head went into a slow bob. “That’s it, isn’t it? You can’t believe you deserve anything more. You probably don’t think you deserve what you have. That’s why you pulled out of the election.” His hand on the door fisted. “Christ, your family’s done a number on you.”

  “Forget my family. I have my own mistakes to make up for. That’s why I pulled out of the election. Because the county deserves a trustworthy sheriff. Stop making me sound like a victim.”

  He bounced his fist off the door. “Stop acting like one!”

  Eyeing his hand, she angled her chin. “Is this invitation to leave Becker County more about wanting me in your life, or wanting me to stay safe?”

  He couldn’t deny he had a protective streak, especially where she was concerned. “Can’t it be both?”

  “I’m a cop, Grady.” She rested her palm on the butt of her service weapon. “I can take care of myself, no matter where I am.”

  “So take care of yourself in Seattle.”

  “I belong here. And you can’t tell me that if I went with you to Seattle you wouldn’t try to talk m
e out of joining the force there.”

  He might. As proud of her as he was, he just damned well might.

  With a growl of frustration he swung away, paced to the recliner and back. “All right. You don’t want to move? Fine. Matt and I will move to Becker County.” They’d figure something out. If it meant he could have Charity in his life, he’d deal with having his parents close by. It didn’t have to mean Matt would end up a drug abuser.

  And Sarah Huffman’s murder aside, Becker County was a hell of a lot safer than Seattle.

  Charity’s chin quivered, but her posture remained rigid.

  He wasn’t getting through to her.

  “You love me,” he said steadily. “I know you love me. We deserve this. Both of us. All of us. We can make it work.”

  She shook her head again, and desperation grabbed hold of Grady’s throat. He grasped her arms, less than gently. “You’re scared. Scared that one day I’ll wake up and decide I don’t love you. The truth is I love you more than I ever have. I love the person you are now, and there’s nothing you can to do make me stop.” He leaned in and spoke with his lips pressed to her forehead. “Say yes. You and me and Matt—we’ll be a family.”

  “The department is my family.”

  His throat burned like hell. He closed his eyes and swallowed. “You’re saying there’s no room for anyone else.”

  She didn’t deny it. Her wet, broken breaths told him she was hurting, too, but she was so caught up in punishing herself for her family’s faults, she couldn’t see the life she deserved to lead. Couldn’t realize—or didn’t care—that she was punishing him, too.

  He released her shoulders and stepped back. Watched in aching resignation as she fumbled to open the door. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said, his voice a shredded mess. “Someone had to die before you’d admit you wanted me. God knows what it’ll take to admit you love me.”

  * * *

  The moment her own front door closed behind Charity, she dumped her duty belt and yanked off her uniform shirt. She staggered to her bed and collapsed onto her knees, somehow found the energy to turn herself over and unlace her boots. Her fingers were on their own, since she couldn’t see through the tears she’d held back all the way home.

  Grady.

  Sobbing, she kicked off her pants. Why couldn’t he see that he and Matt were better off without her?

  Why couldn’t she see she’d done the right thing?

  She crawled up to her pillows, crying harder when she couldn’t find the strength to peel back the covers. Finally she gave up and rolled herself in the top blanket. She spent the next ten hours envisioning Grady as he sat across from her at her kitchen table, going all smoky-eyed and intense until she’d pointed out the syrup on his shirt.

  Saying goodbye had been a hell of a lot harder the second time around.

  * * *

  Grady and Matt had the upstairs den to themselves. They sat on the soft suede couch, their feet on the coffee table, a bowl of popcorn tucked between them as they watched The Simpson Movie.

  Matt hadn’t said a word when Grady had skipped past The Military Channel and a Schwarzenegger movie. They’d both had enough of guns for a while. Grady had made an appointment with the hospital’s resident child psychologist for the morning, and once he got back to Seattle, he’d find someone else Matt could talk to, in case he needed extra help dealing with what he’d been through.

  Maybe Grady should find someone for himself.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You really going back to Seattle without me?”

  Grady fished for the remote and hit the mute button. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “It is.” Matt scooped up another handful of popcorn. “I just didn’t think you’d do it.”

  “Doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you.”

  Matt leaned his head back and rolled his eyes. “What are the chances I’ll be held hostage again before you get back?”

  Christ. “That’s nowhere near funny.”

  “Drew’s got my back.”

  “I know he does.” Grady grabbed his own fistful of popcorn. He should have been there for Matt. Drew, too. Thank God Charity had been.

  “You don’t like my grandparents, do you?”

  Grady swallowed his popcorn before he’d had much of a chance to chew it. He coughed, thumped his chest, and scooted around to face his son. “I do love them.” He coughed again, fist against his mouth. “We just don’t have a lot in common.”

  “You don’t have a lot in common with Charity, either.”

  Slowly Grady lowered his hand. Matt’s voice had been surprisingly free of hostility. He waited.

  “But you love her.”

  Smart kid. “You may not think we have a lot in common because she knows all about guns and how to make a J-turn and never had a decent oyster sandwich. But we’re the same where it counts.”

  Matt turned his head back toward the TV. “You mean like you’re both against drugs and injustice and stuff.”

  “We both had tough childhoods, so that gives us a special connection. And speaking of connections.” He pointed the remote at the television and pressed the power button. Matt heaved a sigh and flopped his arms in protest. Grady leaned forward and poked his thigh.

  “When parents split up, the kids suffer the most. A lot of times the kids will latch on to the remaining parent, terrified they’ll lose him or her, too. I know you’ve seen it with some of your friends at school.”

  “Da-ad.” Matt scowled. “I’m not the clingy type.”

  “I know, but I am.”

  That got Matt’s attention. “You were afraid I’d go live with Mom?”

  “I was afraid of losing our connection. You know how much I love you, right?”

  Matt ignored that. “You’re not afraid anymore?”

  “I’m still nervous, but I realized I was helping to make it happen.”

  “By hovering.”

  “Yeah. By hovering.” Grady lifted his socked feet and pressed against Matt’s hip and thigh and shoved, scooting him farther down the couch. “But I’m working on that.”

  Grinning, Matt lunged for the popcorn bowl and yanked it out of reach. Popcorn bounced onto the coffee table and the rug beyond and Grady winced. They’d have to break out the vacuum cleaner later.

  “Is Charity going to live with us in Seattle?”

  Grady’s throat seized. Where the hell did that come from? He brushed popcorn off the remote and shook his head. “I wanted her to.”

  “But she doesn’t want to leave?”

  Grady shook his head again.

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

  “And you’d be okay with that?”

  Matt bit his lip, then tried to cover his flash of vulnerability with an exaggerated shrug. “She was pretty cool. About everything that happened, I mean.”

  “Yeah. She was pretty cool.” Pretty fucking awesome, as a matter of fact. “But I don’t think she’s going to change her mind.”

  Grady turned the television back on and they sat in silence for a while, watching Homer steer a motorcycle up the walls of the see-through dome that isolated the town of Springfield from the rest of the world. There was some kind of parallel to be found there. But Grady was too damned tired to think it through.

  And it was hard to concentrate when his chest ached like a son of a bitch.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s okay if you hover sometimes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But you still can’t call me buddy.”

  “Understood.” Grady stretched out a hand. “Pass the popcorn, would you, princess?”

  * * *

  Three days later, Charity sat sprawled in an Adirondack chair on Dix’s front porch. Head back, eyes wet with unshed tears, she stared up at the blurry array of glittering stars overhead. The scent of cinnamon reached out to her, and she groped for the mug of hot tea on the timbered floor
beside her, dislodging the woven throw that warmed her lap.

  She blew on her tea, sipped, and leaned her head back again. “It really was a lovely service,” she murmured.

  “Sheila would have enjoyed all the black.” Dix was slumped in a twin Adirondack on the other end of the porch. The weary smile in his voice heightened the burn behind her eyes.

  She sipped her tea and prayed Dix’s wife had finally found peace. The service had been brief, with Dix saying little, but the photos and tokens he’d put on display had expressed what he could not—that once upon a time, his marriage had been filled with joy.

  Since Dix’s sister was still recovering from the flu, Brenda June had handled the meal at his cabin, which meant desserts ruled the table. No one had complained. Charity had stayed to help Brenda June with the cleanup, and so had Sheriff Pratt, which Charity had found fascinating, and the dispatcher, nerve-racking. The sheriff and Brenda June had left an hour ago, but Charity lingered. She and Dix both needed the company.

  “Want to talk about it?” Dix’s quiet words drifted across the dark. “It makes me sad to see you so miserable.”

  His words reminded her of Grady and what he’d said the night Dix’s wife died. It makes me sad you were so determined to forget what we had.

  He’d left for Seattle the day before. He’d be back, though; Matt had stayed behind to finish out the school year, and Grady had promised he wouldn’t make Matt travel home alone. Or so Drew had told her when she’d run into him at the Good Dog, Bad Dog Café that afternoon.

  It took her a moment to realize she was smiling up at the sky. There was hope for Matt and Grady yet, if Grady had realized he needed to grant Matt a little free rein. That Drew refused to leave his cousin alone with their grandparents probably had something to do with it.

  “You should follow him,” Dix said.

  Charity caught her breath. “It’s not that easy.”