by Sarah Barrie
His patience lasted half an hour. Then it ran out with a vengeance. He got to his feet, paced a couple of times, and worked his way up to furious. Okay, so yeah, he’d riled her up a bit yesterday, but that was no excuse. He had questions that needed answering. It wouldn’t be too long before Tony, his boss, started breathing down his neck wanting something. He shook his head. He’d really thought she’d show this morning.
Well, now he’d have to show her.
When he arrived at her cottage the place was quiet, the animals he could see looked content, and he got the impression everything was under control, at least for the morning. It was…peaceful, he decided. He’d never thought of himself as one for enjoying the country, but out here, the quiet, the surroundings, the simplicity just sort of seeped into him with a pleasant easiness that surprised him.
Approaching the house, he paused at the bottom of the veranda steps — then leapt up all four of them in one almighty bound as something sounding like a foghorn with the bite of a pit bull terrier flapped at him.
‘What the hell!’ In true fear, he turned to face his aggressor.
The goose, wings open wide and hissing furiously, watched carefully for a few moments before, seemingly satisfied at his fast retreat, she nestled back down onto her eggs. The big brown eyes kept a careful but polite eye on him.
‘Oh yeah,’ he snarled. ‘Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth… stupid bird.’
Rubbing the back of his thigh where he was fairly certain there were deep and vicious teeth marks, he limped his way to the front door.
He knocked briskly, his temper once again fuelled by the ambush. While he waited, he noted what appeared to be an assortment of particularly filthy clothes dropped in a careless heap at the front door. The smell coming from them was quite peculiar. He gave that a moment’s consideration before knocking again. Still nothing. Was she avoiding him? Somehow it didn’t seem her style. Then he heard a noise that could have been the shower. With one last wary glance towards the direction of his ambush, he let himself into the kitchen to wait.
He supposed the house could do with a makeover, but it was neat and tidy. Plants in pots were scattered around on wooden furniture and a pile of paperwork sat on a large oak dining table. Bills, and lots of them. Information on an upcoming cattle sale, registration papers for something called a Hereford. Curious, he moved into the loungeroom and noted it was much the same as the kitchen: sparse, clean and old, yet welcoming and with a hint of novelty. A pink, fluffy ball with eyes graced the lounge, a jewelled Indian dream catcher hung from the corner of one window. A few scattered oddities including a pair of matching, purple pony candleholders graced the mantel with some photographs. A practical woman by nature, he deduced, with an underlying enjoyment of the fun and outrageous.
His attention was drawn back to the photographs. There were a couple of cattle with broad sashes over their shoulders, one of Jordan with a couple who were obviously her parents, another portrayed a young Jordan flat out on horseback chasing a massive steer with a scrawled ‘For my Angel, love dad xx’ written along the bottom. She looked no more than ten or eleven years old, he thought with admiration.
He picked up the picture of Jordan with her parents. It looked like it had been taken quite a few years back. Jordan’s mother was lovely, with soft brown eyes and a beaming smile. Her father had a strong face, with a determined jaw and Jordan’s eyes. He towered over the women with his arms around them and a wide grin aimed at his daughter. He was proud of her, Reid thought. They looked so happy. Such a strong unit. Judging by her age in this picture, it must have been taken not long before her parents’ deaths.
But this was no time for sympathy — there was something he needed to do. With a shake of his head he took the handcuffs from his back pocket and dangled them from his fingers with a wry grin. This was really going to piss her off.
Jordan turned off the shower, reached for her towel and, hearing a noise, froze to listen. Faint noises were coming from direction of the lounge room. Was someone in the house? Fear settled in the pit of her stomach and she forced in a couple of shaky breaths. People let themselves into her house all the time, she reminded herself…but they generally called out first to announce their arrival.
It was this morning’s latest flower delivery that had her rattled, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Carefully, she opened the bathroom door and peeked into the hall. Nothing. Heart in her mouth, she darted quickly and quietly to her bedroom, reached onto the top of the wardrobe and pulled down her rifle, loading it with unsteady fingers. Swallowing back the urge to hide, she tiptoed down the hallway.
She could hear footsteps in her loungeroom, the sound of something being moved or replaced. With a deep, steadying breath, she pushed her soaked hair back from her face and adjusted the towel to ensure it was fastened tightly under her arms. One, two…on three, she flung herself into the loungeroom, leading with her weapon.
Her gaze was steady, concentrated, before quickly turning into an annoyed scowl as she recognised Reid.
‘You!’ The nose of her rifle dropped towards the ground as relief warred with anger. ‘What the hell — make yourself at home!’
She waited, feeling distinctly uncomfortable as he took in her appearance, making her acutely aware of how little she was wearing. When his eyes moved up to meet hers there was humour in them, and open appreciation. Every inch of skin began to burn.
‘Hi Jordan. Best put some clothes on…you’ll get cold.’
She found her voice. Somehow. ‘You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you!’ She slammed the rifle onto the coffee table before stalking off to do as he suggested.
‘No, you’re lucky you didn’t shoot me. You’re in enough trouble,’ he called after her. ‘I hope you’ve got a permit for this!’
She heard him unload her rifle just before she closed her door a little harder than absolutely necessary. The guy was unbelievable. She dried her hair, threw on some clothes; this time her regular jeans and casual tee. She’d already ruined one dress, and she had her doubts that there was any real chance of playing the ‘nice girl’ card after pointing a rifle at him anyway.
She huffed as she pulled a brush through her hair. Her body was still tingling from the way he’d raked his gaze over her. Why couldn’t he have been an old, ugly annoying guy, instead of — ugh, she didn’t even want to admit it, but yeah — the hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on? Satisfied her appearance would pass, she opened her door and headed back down the hallway — only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw the cuffs dangling from his fingers. ‘Give me a break!’
‘Jordan Windcroft, as you failed to —’
‘You’re not serious. What do you think I’m going to do?’ she demanded over his little speech. ‘Make a run for it?’
‘Nothing would surprise me.’ He closed the distance at a leisurely pace and clicked the cuffs into place.
She caught the dry tone and grated her teeth. ‘Oh right. I suppose you think you’re funny?’
‘No, just a good judge of personalities.’
‘What would you know about personalities? As far as I can tell you don’t even own one. Take the damn things off!’
‘No.’ Ignoring her protests, he took her out to his car. ‘Do yourself a favour and be quiet, Jordan.’
‘Or what, you’ll gag me?’
‘Keep it up, you never know.’
Jordan silently fumed all the way into town. How dare he? What would he know about running a farm? What was she supposed to have done…asked the cow to put the calf back in and wait until tomorrow? She couldn’t help the small snigger that escaped her lips, earning a quick look in the mirror from Reid. She simply sent him a cold glare and looked back out the window. It wasn’t just that he’d arrested her either — the look on his face had been pure satisfaction.
The street hadn’t seemed particularly busy, but as Reid pulled up outside the station and escorted her out of the car, people came from everywhere, immediately rallying aroun
d to see what was going on. Jordan groaned in frustration. ‘Right on lunch time at the café. This just gets better and better.’
Martha hurried down the front steps of the station as Mary and most of her customers emerged from the café. Among them was Joel Tanner. His tough, robust frame and towering height stood out in the crowd as he walked straight through the small gathering to stare hard at Reid, before turning his attention to Jordan. ‘What’s going on, Jordy?’
Jordan glared at Reid. ‘Well at the risk of being gagged —’
‘Is there a problem here?’ Harry appeared behind Martha.
Reid shook his head. ‘Everything’s under control. Miss Windcroft has breached her probation conditions. I’m bringing her down to have a chat with her, that’s all.’ Although his tone was mild, his gaze suggested to everyone present that they had better back off, and most of them moved at least a couple of steps out of the way.
‘Causing a fuss, Jordy?’ Harry prompted with a small frown.
‘I was on my way to a meeting with Inspector Gadget here,’ she taunted, still glaring at Reid, ‘when I was held up because I had to pull a calf. I went back to tidy up and got arrested.’
Joel’s cold expression warmed as he turned from Reid to Jordan. ‘Everything okay with the calf?’
‘Just a front leg back, but the cow was tired and it took a bit of pulling.’
‘She’s being arrested for that?’ Mary asked loudly. ‘That’s ridiculous — you’ve got to pull a calf — you can’t just leave it there!’
‘Damn right.’ Again, Joel turned on Reid. ‘You got anything to say about that?’
Jordan absently noted that though Joel towered over everyone else she knew, Reid matched him in height.
‘Yeah: show’s over.’ Reid took Jordan’s arm and led her towards the door.
‘Now just wait a minute!’ Joel started up the steps.
‘Hold up, Joel,’ Harry appealed as Joel made to follow them inside. ‘I’ve got this.’
Mary stepped forward and took Joel’s arm. ‘Come on down to the café. We’ll have a cuppa. Let Harry handle this.’
Joel reluctantly stepped back. ‘Alright…but you sort it out, Harry.’
The door slammed shut as Reid led Jordan down the hall towards his office. ‘Enjoy that?’
‘Which part?’ Jordan attempted uselessly to pull her arm from his grasp. ‘The part where you arrested me or where the whole town saw me handcuffed and dragged into the police station?’
He guided her into his office and shut the door. ‘I was referring to your small posse out there.’
‘Well, you sure have a high opinion of us country folk,’ she deliberately drawled. ‘But as appealing as the idea is, they were hardly about to string you up by the neck and scare a horse out from underneath you.’
‘Good to know. Because I’ll do that as often as I need to, Jordan, until you learn to do what you’re told.’ He removed her handcuffs and propelled her towards a chair, which she ignored, staying on her feet. ‘You didn’t tell me about the cow.’
‘You didn’t exactly give me the opportunity.’
He considered her a moment, then shook his head and smirked. ‘Don’t play victim, princess, it doesn’t suit you.’
Jordan’s eyes rounded in disbelief, temper snapping. ‘I don’t “play victim”, I’m no one’s “princess”…and, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch, I don’t give a rat’s arse what you think does or does not suit me!’
The slight lift of his brow could have been surprise or admonishment. Jordan wasn’t sure. ‘That needs to change. Along with the way you speak to your probation officer.’
‘Are you joking?’
‘I rarely joke — especially with drug-dealing murderers.’
‘Drug-dealing…go to hell!’ She stepped past him, fully intent on leaving.
‘Don’t do it, Jordan.’ There was a warning in his tone she probably should have caught.
‘Stop me.’
‘Okay.’
He’d looked relaxed, at ease, but when she reached the door he moved like lightning. In a heartbeat, she found herself pinned against the wall and the arm that had clutched the doorhandle was secured behind her back. ‘You really need to start listening to me.’
Jordan acknowledged the tremor that ran through her, triggered in equal parts by anger and by the awareness of his proximity, of his strength, of his quiet, deep voice in her ear. Stunned by her own reaction, she waited, barely breathing, for his next move. The noise of the opening door made her jolt.
‘What the…?’ Harry gasped. ‘I might have agreed to work with you Reid, but —’
‘Later, Harry!’ Reid cut him off. Then, in a low voice to Jordan, ‘Are you going to cooperate?’ When she jerked her head in a nod he let her go, pushing her into a seat. ‘Sit.’
‘I don’t do “sit”.’ She rolled her freed shoulder, winced. ‘Or “stay” or “roll over”…’
‘You okay, Jordy?’ Harry stared hard at Reid. Reid simply cocked an eyebrow.
‘Yeah. Thanks, Harry.’ Inwardly, she cursed her unsteady voice. She was more shaken than she wanted to admit. ‘I’m fine.’
Harry’s glare at Reid was threatening. ‘When you’re finished here, I’d like a word.’ With that, he stepped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him.
Reid returned to his seat. ‘I’m assuming we understand each other now?’
‘You think?’ Her tone was cool, but inwardly she was shaking like a leaf. Who was this guy?
‘You’re interested in what I think? I’ll tell you. I think it would be a shame to have to haul you into court just a few weeks short of your probation being up. You realise you’ll end up in prison this time?’ He watched the remaining colour drain from her face. ‘What do you think?’
‘If I tell you what I think, I will end up in prison.’
When a hint of a grin touched the edges of his mouth she blinked hard and decided she’d imagined it. ‘You’re very lucky not to have ended up there already.’ He opened his notes, looked over them unnecessarily. ‘You really stuffed up. Want to tell me what happened?’
Jordan shrugged carelessly. ‘Read it.’
‘I have. So…your story is you missed your appointment today because you had to assist a cow with calving?’
‘It’s not a story.’
‘Yes or no?’
‘Yes! I was planning on coming.’
‘Surely it occurred to you to call and explain.’
‘With my hand up a cow’s butt?’
He sent her an unappreciative stare. ‘Staying away from the drugs and alcohol these days I hope?’
‘Yes.’
‘That meth you were caught with…did you buy it or make it?’
Jordan’s jaw dropped just a little. ‘Did you catch the PhD after my name?’
‘It doesn’t take a doctorate.’
‘Oh well then, of course, I’ve got a lab full of ice bubbling away in the cattle shed as we speak.’
‘Careful,’ Reid warned her. ‘Written notes don’t reflect sarcasm.’
‘According to you, I’m already a drug-dealing murderer. Why bother with the questions?’
‘Curiosity. Who was the big guy out there jumping to your defence earlier?’
‘Just a friend.’ At his exasperated look, she sighed. ‘Joel Tanner.’
‘Thank you. He’s listed here as your next of kin…but he’s not, is he?’
‘I don’t have a next of kin.’
‘What’s he do?’
‘What’s it matter?’
His pen hit the table and rolled noisily along the desk. ‘Okay, Jordan — how about a couple of hours in lock-up right now? You can get used to the accommodation and work on your demeanour.’
‘He owns the feed store.’
‘There, see? We can work together. How’d those drugs come to be in your possession on the afternoon of the accident?’
‘It’s all there,’ she snapped, nodding at the folder. Then,
when he simply waited, ‘Someone stashed them in my bag.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know! I’ve been through this a thousand times.’
‘Do you still socialise with “I don’t know”?’
‘Oh my God.’
They went through the process, step by painful step, until eventually he closed the folder and, saying nothing for several seconds, he studied her. ‘Jordan, I need to be satisfied that you’re fulfilling the obligations of your probation and right now I’m a long way from it. I’m going to be speaking to people who know you, making sure you’re staying out of trouble and holding up your end of the deal. I’d also appreciate a bit more cooperation. Are we clear?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’m going to let you go. Don’t make me regret it. See you in two weeks.’
Reid stayed at his desk, intent on compiling a list of people to investigate, starting with Joel Tanner. He had hours of work ahead of him; gathering information, writing initial reports and making phone calls. But he needed to walk off some restlessness. Pushing himself out of his chair, he decided he’d go grab a coffee and clear his head. As he stood to do just that, Harry knocked on his door and let himself in. ‘Mind telling me what all that was about?’
Reid shrugged, collected his things. ‘My job.’
‘Since when do probation officers carry handcuffs?’
‘Anyone can make an arrest, Harry.’
‘Look, far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, and I’m sure you couldn’t care one way or another that no one around here wants to see Jordy being dragged in here a few weeks short of this mess being over with and having you manhandle her.’
‘But?’
‘But I don’t like it.’ Harry scowled. ‘And people around here don’t want to see Jordy being dragged in here a few weeks short of this mess being over with and having you manhandle her. She may not be a model probationer, but she’s got her hands full trying to keep that farm of hers going and she’s doing it mostly on her own. It’s not easy.’