The Lawman's Second Chance

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Weed control. Dig up old stuff.” Politely dismissive, he held the papers up, moved outside, called for Becky and Cory to head for the car, and started toward the SUV. “I’ve got to get these guys home for supper. Thank you, Lisa. I’m sure this is all fine. I’ll get back to you on the details.”

  Cool. Crisp. Concise. A business deal.

  She felt ridiculously hurt, a ludicrous response, because she’d just met this man a few days before. Something in his face, the humor and warmth she’d witnessed made old wonders and wishes spring back to life inside her. And even though she couldn’t act on those feelings, she couldn’t deny it felt nice to be admired.

  But he’d drawn the curtain closed on humorous repartee the minute he saw the pictures of her during her year-long fight. She’d refused to hide during chemo and radiation, and she’d scheduled her bi-lateral mastectomy for early January so she’d have plenty of recovery time without messing up Christmas-tree and wreath sales. She’d used all of her strength to battle this disease, and maybe win the war. Only time would reveal that.

  She waved to the girls and walked back to the fountain area, avoiding Caroline and her father. They’d read her like a book. She needed a few minutes to recover, because somewhere inside her she’d known this would happen. Men didn’t want damaged goods. Alex was no exception. And while it shouldn’t matter, it did. And that came as a wake-up call.

  She didn’t bargain on meeting Adam near the mulch station.

  He and Rosie came around from the back barn. The toddler raced for Lisa, arms out, eyes wide, her broad smile easing the sting of Alex’s rejection. This was the reason she worked to raise awareness. So Rosie’s generation wouldn’t have to go through the rigorous treatments she’d undergone.

  “What’s wrong?” Adam’s face said she hadn’t done a good job of hiding her emotions. Given five more minutes, he wouldn’t have been able to tell, but right now she was an open wound, raw and bleeding.

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing when it makes you look like you want to cry,” Adam scolded in a none-too-gentle brotherly voice. “Who hurt your feelings? And where are they? I’ll punch them for you.”

  “You can’t. You’ll get fired and then who will buy Rosie pretty dresses and fancy shoes?”

  “You. You spoil her all the time.”

  “Love doesn’t spoil children,” Lisa told him. She sighed, rubbed her cheek against the toddler’s soft, dark curls and shrugged. “I forget how cancer scares people. And then I see the reality in their eyes when they find out, and—”

  “Alex Steele?” Adam interrupted her with a nod toward the road leading to town.

  She nodded.

  He rubbed his jaw, made a face and said, “Listen, sis—”

  “It’s okay, Adam. I get it. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with those expressions before. I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

  “You don’t get it.” Adam looked torn, then lifted his shoulders. “I don’t talk about private stuff at work. None of us do. When we’re on the job, we stay on the job. Full focus. Troopers that lose their focus can get killed.”

  She knew that. They’d buried a young trooper two years before, a victim of a hit-and-run driver on the Interstate while he wrote out a speeding ticket. Focus was clutch in police work.

  “But I know this much—Alex’s wife died of breast cancer.”

  Lisa’s heart gripped tight.

  Her pulse bumped down, then up.

  Realization made her feel foolish. She hadn’t seen revulsion in Alex’s eyes, on his face. She’d seen naked fear, a replica of the emotion she knew so well. Too well.

  “She fought just like you did,” Adam continued. “I know this because one of the other guys that transferred in worked Monroe County with him. But we don’t talk about it. We just figured he could use some prayer. And moral support. It’s hard coming in as a boss in a new setting. Not all the guys are happy when outsiders are brought in. But we needed a new lieutenant in B.C.I., and Alex wanted a fresh start for his family. Something without reminders.”

  He’d lost his wife, the mother of three sweet children.

  He’d changed jobs.

  Bought a new home.

  While she was celebrating her possible full remission, he’d been dealing with the opposite image in the mirror, the aftermath of a killer’s success. His wife’s death. Why her? Why not Lisa? Why anyone?

  “Oh, Adam...”

  “Don’t tell him I said anything,” Adam instructed her. “I don’t want Alex to think I talk about him behind his back. Especially to my pesky, know-it-all big sister.”

  “I won’t.” She set Rosie down, took the little one’s hand and moved forward. “But I’m glad you told me. Now I can be more sensitive to it if he lets me work with Emma on this 4-H project.”

  “Lets you work on it?” Adam halted her progress with a hand to her arm. “You think he won’t?”

  “If he doesn’t want reminders, walking into a place like this...” She waved a hand, pointing out the obvious. “Pink banners, pink flowers, pink hanging baskets and breast cancer information at every turn has to be like walking the plank. A slow and painful process.”

  “Hey.” Adam turned her around and his no-nonsense cop face said she’d better listen up. “You do great work here. And it’s not like you guys are on different teams. You’ve just taken on the fight visibly, using the business to help raise people’s consciousness. There’s nothing wrong with that, sis.”

  She knew that. And she wouldn’t change a thing, but now she realized why Alex looked war-torn on Saturday. And why the house of kids seemed chaotic on Sunday. And why he’d recoiled today.

  She understood they were on the same team, in a way. But she’d survived.

  His wife hadn’t.

  And that made being on the same team unbelievably painful for him.

  * * *

  Alex glared at the clock, thumped his pillow twice because once wasn’t enough, then hauled himself out of bed the next morning. He thought he’d put sleepless nights behind him in Rochester.

  Obviously not.

  Lisa.

  Cancer.

  Pink.

  The words dogged his morning routine. When Becky wanted milk, he gave her juice. When Josh whined about his game system, Alex didn’t even make the kid say please. And when Emma asked an innocent question about the start-up date for the garden plans, he’d snapped at her.

  Right then he knew. He couldn’t do cancer again. He couldn’t do the watching and waiting. Not up close and personal. Never again.

  He’d pray for Lisa’s continued good health from a distance. Which meant finding someone else to do Emma’s project, but even a small town must have more than one able-bodied gardener, right?

  With that plan firmly in mind, he parked his car outside the Fillmore station house and strode in, determined. Jack Samson, a long-standing investigator, gave him a high-sign as he wrapped up a phone call. Alex approached him, a coffee cup in his left hand, his laptop bag in his right, and a self-made promise to push all thoughts of Lisa Fitzgerald aside, no matter how hard that might be. “What’s up, Jack?”

  “Overnight grand theft of pricey gardening equipment.”

  “Gardening equipment?”

  “Well.” Jack raised his notepad and shrugged as he headed for the door. “Garden, farm, whatever. In this case it’s both because Gardens & Greens is a farm that’s a garden store, right?”

  Gardens & Greens.

  Robbed.

  Lisa.

  Alex’s heart did a double take. So did his brain. The thought that someone with ill intent got close to her. Close to her family...

  Lisa.

  He’d promised himself he’d stay away.

  That pledge dissolved into
dust at his feet as he hurried after Jack.

  Jack turned at the car, puzzled. “You’re riding along?”

  “Yes.”

  The clipped word said Jack should leave it alone.

  Jack did just that.

  He nodded, climbed in and started the engine, but a tiny smile quirked the right side of his jaw, the only side Alex could see. “Okay, then.”

  He’d accompany Jack, make sure everything was all right. That Lisa was all right. That no one was hurt. And then he’d leave.

  One look at her face as they strode into the garden center office a few minutes later said leaving wasn’t an option. Knowing her past and seeing the pain of the present stamped across her pretty face, he longed to hug her.

  He couldn’t.

  His entire being yearned to comfort her, to pledge her safety, and yes, maybe even kiss that worry-furrow between her eyes, smooth it away.

  Right now she looked like she could use a hero, but the cool look she passed over him as she locked gazes with Jack said he’d missed his shot by a country mile the day before.

  Alex understood her reaction. He’d brushed her off when he found out she’d been sick, a coward’s choice. But the tables had shifted this morning, because someone had tried to hurt Lisa and her family.

  Despite his promises to stay away, Alex had realized one thing: no one was allowed to hurt Lisa Fitzgerald. Ever.

  Chapter Four

  Sixteen hours ago, Lisa was pretty sure she wouldn’t see Alex again unless they passed on the streets of Jamison.

  And here he was, a purposeful stride marking the reason for his visit. He looked...vigorous. Masterful. And completely unavailable.

  Lisa trained her gaze on the slightly smaller, older man to Alex’s left. He stuck out a hand, first to her, then her father. “I’m Jack Samson. This is Lt. Steele.” He jerked his chin in Alex’s direction.

  Ozzie nodded, polite, then shook Alex’s hand.

  Lisa kept her gaze averted. The last thing she wanted to see was Alex’s pity. Or fear. Or repugnance. Therefore she wouldn’t look.

  “So, what’s missing exactly?” Jack flipped open a small notebook and withdrew a pen.

  “Our three-year-old Bobcat and a brand-new zero-turn mower.”

  Jack whistled and arched a brow. “Ouch.”

  “And then some,” Ozzie agreed.

  Alex said nothing, but Lisa felt his gaze. She ignored the heat from his soul-searching gray eyes and reached across her desk. “Here are pictures of both.” She handed them over. The Bobcat was a simple advertising photo showing the T190 in all its pricey glory.

  Alex eyed the small tractor and grimaced. “This baby is nearly thirty grand new, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Lisa replied without looking at him, but inside she wondered what he was thinking. How did she appear now that he knew she’d had cancer? That she’d gone through the same round of treatments his wife had endured with one major difference. Lisa was here to talk about it.

  “And the mower?”

  “It retails around seventy-five hundred new and we’ve only had it six weeks.”

  “Show me where they were parked, Lisa.”

  Her heart stammered.

  Her pulse climbed.

  She had to turn then, because Alex spoke directly to her. The take-command note in his voice said he’d done it intentionally, but Lisa didn’t take orders well. Or shift gears quickly. Until he’d walked through the office door moments ago, she’d shoved aside the needle-sharp brush-off he’d given her the previous day. At this moment, every fiber of her being wanted to shout at him, at cancer, at the unfairness of life in general. But she’d dismissed hissy fits as a pointless exercise years ago.

  “I’ll show you.” She avoided eye contact by leading the way to the mulching/stone area. The narrow display paths didn’t allow the whole group to walk together. Jack and her father eased back.

  Alex fell into step with her.

  Was that chance? Circumstance? Planned?

  It didn’t matter. She had health issues he’d faced and lost. End of story. Except his sidelong glances said the story might not be over.

  But it was.

  The fact that he smelled soap-and-water fresh made him seem approachable.

  He wasn’t.

  She’d seen that yesterday and his reaction to her battle dredged up too many memories of Evan’s recalcitrance. Lisa had no intention of stepping before the firing squad of rejection a second time. The first time had been circumstantial.

  This would be deliberate. Therefore, stupid.

  “They were parked back here yesterday.” Ozzie’s voice held regret. He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Adam’s told me time and again to be more careful and I shrugged it off.” His pained look underscored his feelings. “I never thought someone would just pull in here and grab stuff while we slept right over there.”

  Alex eyed the distance from the house to the barn. “Aren’t the newer Bobcats keyless, sir?”

  Lisa cleared her throat.

  Ozzie scowled. “Yes. I converted the starter because the keyless entry was a pain in the neck. But then if I kept the keys in my pocket, people had to come find me every time they needed to shift something.”

  “So you left them in the equipment.” Alex’s observation held no judgment, but he quirked a smile to the older man, just enough to say he understood. “Adam will have a field day with that, sir.”

  “Already did,” Ozzie agreed, looking pained.

  Alex could tell that Lisa’s father was a great guy, not like that was a surprise. He’d known Adam for months. And now Lisa...

  He longed to pretend she wasn’t there, a few feet to his left.

  He couldn’t.

  He wished he could turn back the clock sixteen hours and banter with her. Watch the way the sun danced off those dark curls, hear her heartfelt laughter with the girls.

  That wouldn’t happen, either. His fault. But right now he had a job to do and that included keeping her safe. The thought that someone targeted her spiked his protective side. He swept a quick glance over the house and business. “Whoever it was knew what they wanted. And when and how.” He stared at the ground, then moved down the stone lot surrounding the barn. “It appears he came in along the grass to keep the noise minimal. And with the increase of traffic on the Interstate this time of year, we get used to engine noise and tune it out. It’s especially easy when you have fans or air conditioners running.”

  “Frogs,” Lisa interjected.

  Jack nodded. “Peepers.”

  “Yes,” Lisa agreed.

  “In English, Jack.” Alex had no clue what they were talking about, and he couldn’t bark at Lisa so Jack made a handy target.

  “Lisa’s ponds. The trees surrounding the house and barns. The water spillways she’s created and the state-designated wetlands are over there. You could drive heavy equipment up and down this field at night right now, and no one would likely hear it. The frogs and spring peepers are that loud.”

  Alex shifted his gaze to Lisa. A tiny smile softened her jaw...a sweet, touchable jaw that could go stubborn in a flash. “He’s not serious. Is he?”

  She answered, but didn’t turn away from Jack. “He is. So hearing anything even with windows open is unlikely in May.”

  Concern climbed a notch higher. “You don’t leave the windows open at night, do you? The correct response would be ‘no.’”

  “To cool things down as the days get hotter. Of course we do.” She shrugged, ignoring his concerns as if he hadn’t dealt with every level of crime imaginable for the last fifteen years. “And last night was the first bogeyman in thirty-plus years, so I think the odds are with us.”

  Except crime didn’t sleep. Alex knew that. And he understood
her small-town cavalier attitude, but after last night’s theft, he figured a dose of reality might daunt her Sunshine Sue outlook.

  It didn’t and that spiked an internal lecture he had no right to give.

  He turned his attention to Lisa’s father. Ozzie still looked miserable and Alex understood the older man’s angst. Missing equipment at the height of their selling season? A rough go. “Have you called your insurance company?”

  Ozzie shifted his gaze to Lisa, then shrugged. “If we make a claim this big, our rates will skyrocket. We’re hoping to find the equipment.”

  “But...” Alex would love to find their stolen equipment and return it quickly, but the likelihood of that was slim and they had work to do. Wouldn’t calling in the claim make more sense? That’s what insurance was for, right?

  “We’ve got an old small tractor in the barn,” Lisa explained in a cool, polite voice. “Not as useful as the ‘cat,’ but we figure it will buy us some time.” She addressed the group in general, not him specifically. They’d been there twenty minutes, and not once had she met his gaze.

  Guilt built within him. He’d brushed her off after she’d spent years fighting a killer disease.

  What a jerk.

  Could he help his reaction?

  No. And yes. The initial reaction had been automatic. Gut-fear, paralyzing and quick.

  But being an officer trained him to move beyond the norm and analyze information. What a shame he hadn’t taken time to do that yesterday. He’d turned and walked away, almost herding the girls into the car in his hurry to put distance between him and the disease he hated.

  And that made him feel like a total loser this morning. Currently, Lisa Fitzgerald needed his help and maybe his protection. Like it or not, she’d get both.

  A black van carrying a pair of crime scene technicians pulled into the back lot. The tech crew climbed out, all business.

  Jack, Alex and Lisa moved to one side while the techies scoured the area, snapping pictures, scraping for clues. A young woman turned their way. “We’re going to follow the path of entrance to its source. Maybe we’ll get lucky and hit a spot where his tires left a readable mark. There’s a small oil slick here,” she pointed out several drops of dark oil about twelve feet from where the equipment had been parked. “Could be from the thief’s truck. And to carry this kind of equipment, he needed a decent-sized trailer. Those aren’t easy to hide. Unless he’s not from the area, in which case he could be long gone by now.”