Come a Little Closer

by Kelsey Browning

  Ginger glanced around at the crowded salon. “Oh, I wish I could, but—”

  “This is important. An emergency, really,” Jenny said, trying to keep herself from sounding overly dramatic.

  Right on cue, Jenny’s mom leapt from her chair. “She can have my spot.” Abby Ruth shoved out of her chair so fast, her hairdressing gown billowed out behind her like a Superman cape.

  Ginger cocked a hip and waved Jenny into the now-empty chair. “Well, I guess I do then. There a reason you’re in such a hurry?”

  “It’s that thing down at the sheriff’s office…” Jenny trailed off and glanced away but stealthily checked Ginger’s expression in the mirror.

  Ginger’s gaze went as sharp as the scissors in her disinfecting solution. Oh, yeah. She was hooked. “That thing? What thing?”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t have…” Jenny pretended to lower her voice, but her mom had taught her the art of a stage whisper. “I’m not supposed to talk about this, so I’m trusting you to keep this information to yourself.”

  Ginger nodded so vigorously that her blue streak did the wave.

  “I need my hair done before the producers from County Cops and Lawmen get here later this week for the first site visit.” Jenny reached out, picked a magazine she wasn’t interested in from Ginger’s stash.

  Ginger froze, and her wide-eyed stare met Jenny’s gaze in the mirror. “I love that show.”

  “I know. Me too.” Jenny laughed and fanned herself with the magazine. “I couldn’t believe it when Teague told me they had contacted him, but keep this little secret on the hush-hush, okay? You know how those television types are. They like to keep things quiet until it’s time for the big debut. Especially with reality TV. I mean, it’s so hot right now.”

  Ginger fluffed a cape and whipped it around Jenny’s shoulders. “I hear it’s a cutthroat business, but that show is better than the ones on the regular channel. C-CAL’s the whole reason I have cable TV.”

  “It’s the only realistic show out there. Plus, they carefully screen the people. No riffraff actor-wannabes.”

  Jenny glanced over at her mom to find Abby Ruth’s lips as flat as the West Texas plains, which meant she was trying like anything not to break out in laughter. As Jenny rolled through the scene they’d discussed earlier on the phone, she had to look away to keep from catching a fit of the giggles. In fact, the next line was all her mom’s idea. “Don’t tell anyone—” she abandoned her stage whisper and just let fly, “—but I think the County Cops and Lawmen heard about that State Public Safety Award Teague is up for. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “What did you say?” Maggie pitched her voice loud and leaned toward Jenny. “Teague Castro is up for another award? Well, that doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  “Oh dear, he’d kill me if he knew I was bragging. Don’t say anything. I wouldn’t want to jinx it,” Jenny said back.

  Maggie fluffed the cape like she was in the middle of a hot flash. “Only an idiot wouldn’t realize how lucky we are to have Sheriff Castro keeping this county in shape. No worries about us spreading that rumor about the TV show, though. No one around here is the gossipy type. Isn’t that right, ladies?”

  And every head in the salon and bookstore, including Hollis Dooley’s, bobbed in agreement.

  Mission accomplished.

  The seed had been well planted, and if the two ladies repositioning their dryers back on their heads were any indication of how interested folks were to hear about this development in the sheriff’s office, Jenny wouldn’t be back at school for her afternoon classes before this little 411 made it halfway across town.

  Chapter 9

  Why did Teague suddenly feel as if everyone was staring at him? He glanced in the reflection of the plate glass window of Love ’Em or Leave ’Em Florist. Sure enough, two ladies coming out of the bakery had stopped, and one of them was discreetly pointing at him as she murmured something to her friend.

  It took everything he had not to spin around and confront them, but he didn’t want to add to people’s concern about him as a sheriff candidate. Distracted was bad enough, but Teague looking worried or paranoid would just boost Angus Hillen’s popularity.

  Teague crossed the parking lot, and planted right there right in the grassy median was a sign in shiny sheriff-gold that read, “Elect a hometown hero for Sheriff.” Below a picture of Angus Hillen in a police uniform holding an award was a grainy photo of football players dressed in Summer Shoals High School red and black, lifting a championship trophy in the air.

  Maybe Teague had been distracted. He hadn’t really paid much attention to the campaign signs all over town, except to be sure they were within compliance with the law. A few neighbors had complained about unwelcome signs popping up in front of their homes. But off private property and out of the public right-of-way, this one was completely above board.

  Hometown hero? That struck a chord.

  Teague was going to have to step up his game. Because being a good sheriff for the past few years didn’t seem like it was going to be good enough, and he had way too much to lose.

  But when Teague turned the corner and saw another Angus Hillen sign, this one with a background of stars and stripes with a picture of Hillen looking all presidential and the tagline “My full focus on the county,” Teague felt his blood pressure rise.

  Seemed Hillen was behind the distraction rumors. If that kind of campaign strategy wasn’t dirty, Teague didn’t know what was. He took his phone from his pocket and dialed the number to the local print shop. “Hey, this is Sheriff Castro. That offer still stand on printing up campaign signs for me?” He paused and looked around to be sure no one was trailing him. All clear. “Great. Yeah. I’ll take fifty of those sheriff-badge-shaped ones you were telling me about.”

  “I can get them printed up for you by tomorrow morning. For a buck a board I can get my nephew to put them out for you too.”

  “That would be great,” Teague said.

  “I’ll send the bill to your house.”

  “Perfect.”

  Teague shoved his phone in his pocket. It was a start.

  But as soon as he let out a sigh of relief, Angelina Broussard, the woman who was determined to dethrone Lillian Summer Fairview as the queen of Summer Shoals, came strolling in his direction, her sequined shirt heaving with every awkward step in her too-tall fringed boots. “I know there’s no law against lying, but I really thought more of you.”

  What now? “I beg your pardon?”

  “I heard from Madge, who heard from Bitsy, who heard from a good source that those women over at Summer Haven are telling people the film crew for County Cops and Lawmen will be coming to town to film you because you’re winning some big award.”

  “Really?” But what he really wanted to say was what the hell? Just when he thought he had a handle on those women, they went and did something else to make him crazy. County Cops? He was as much a fan of the show as anyone, but this was certainly the first he’d heard of them filming a thing in Bartell County.

  “And if that were true, I’d know. Because anyone who’s anyone always stays at Broussard B&B. You know that’s true.” She braced her hands on her hips, settling them atop her rhinestone trimmed belt. “Right?”

  “You’d know that better than I would.”

  “So, is it true?”

  There was no way he was going to throw Jenny or those old gals under the bus, but he would definitely set them straight later. “Angelina, all I can say is that I’m no liar. I take great pride in my job as sheriff of this county, but there are things I’m not at liberty to discuss. Even with someone as trustworthy as you.”

  She dropped her hands. “Does that mean…?”

  “I’m sure you’ll hear one way or another.” He tipped his hat and gave her a wink even as his back teeth cemented together. “But now, I’ve got to get back to work.” Especially since the people he cared about most seemed to be working against him.

  * * *
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  Over the past few days, Teague had been busier than a plumber during rainy season, trying to counter Angus Hillen’s campaign attack and the backlash of that little reality TV show scheme the ladies at Summer Haven had hurled over the fence. Their intentions had been good, but as usual, not well thought out.

  Now, Teague was more than ready to spend some time with Jenny after their hot and impromptu on-the-mat session at the Ruritan Club. They were blissfully alone in his truck headed to a fancy restaurant in the next county, and that didn’t happen often.

  As much as he loved the people of Bartell County, sometimes it was nice to be outside their circle of interest. He’d had to call in two favors to get the reservation at the popular eatery, and although he’d been looking forward to spending a night out on the town with Jenny, the truth was when he laid eyes on her all dressed up and ready to go, all he really wanted to do was take her home and lay her down.

  At that thought, he reached for Jenny’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers. He stroked his thumb across her silky skin.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “It’s almost scary to feel this happy,” she said.

  “Nothing to be afraid of.” He took his eyes off the road for a quick glance at her. Jenny’s tender smile and believing eyes sent a warm surge of happiness through him. This was exactly what he’d been dreaming of for so many years.

  Not a word passed between them, but the cab of his truck was filled with unspoken emotion and promises of tomorrows.

  The crackle of his radio assaulted the pristine moment, and he winced. “Sorry. I should’ve left it behind.”

  Jenny’s smile faded a little. “It’s okay. I’m starting to figure out exactly what it means to be permanently involved with the county sheriff.”

  “It’s definitely not a nine-to-five job.”

  “You’re worth it.”

  The crackle came again. The rapid-fire string of cryptic words and codes sent adrenaline surging through Teague’s body. Day-to-day updates from Dispatch had a whole different tone when things got serious. And that fast-paced chatter over the airwaves screamed that something serious was going down right now. And right up the road.

  “Nine-year-old in a hostage situation,” the dispatcher had said, followed by a series of codes and a street address.

  Teague’s attention lasered in on the context. The word “hostage” grazed his skin like a bullet, the stress as fresh this minute as it had been all those years ago in Houston. A night he’d never forget. A night that changed his life forever.

  Unit Four stated his position from the other side of town, and Dispatch began repeating the details. No, Teague hadn’t heard wrong.

  His body went icy cold. That was the elementary school’s address, and Grayson was at soccer practice there tonight. Had Jenny’s jerk of an ex-husband decided he wanted to take Grayson back to Boston?

  Teague had just promised the love of his life that he’d never let anything happen to her or her son. Please, God, don’t let that kid be Grayson.

  “How do you even understand that radio?” Jenny asked. “It always sounds like a drive-thru speaker that’s been blasted by lightning.”

  He held up a hand, shushing her as the dispatcher finished. But he was already turning the truck around, trying to hold off the gut-cramping sensation shutting down his ability to think. But since Jenny wasn’t going crazy, she obviously hadn’t made out the verbal part of the alert.

  He spoke into his radio: “Unit One in the area. Less than two miles out. En route.”

  Dispatch responded: “10-4, Unit One. Parental abduction. White male, mid-thirties.”

  “What’s going on?” Jenny asked.

  But before he could answer Jenny, his phone rang. And oh, Jesus, it was Abby Ruth.

  “Why is my mom calling you?” Jenny grabbed for his phone, but he tightened his fist around it and answered.

  “Castro.”

  “All hell is breaking loose over here.”

  “Tell me you’re both okay.”

  “I can damn well take care of my grandson. We’re fine. But some guy snatched up the bakery gal’s little girl and was making tracks for his car outside the school grounds. You’ll be glad to know that while the soccer coach was chasing him down, I jumped in my truck and blocked the guy’s car. He ain’t getting away in that thing.”

  No, he absolutely was not glad about that. “Abby Ruth!” he barked. “Get out of your truck now. Take Grayson and get away from the scene. You hear me?”

  “I hear you.”

  He started to hang up then raised the phone again. It never hurt to reiterate things to Abby Ruth. That woman thought she was the next best thing to a Texas Ranger. “I mean it. Take Grayson home or get away from the area.” He ended the call. When he lifted his gaze, Jenny was staring at him.

  Her eyes were wide. Frightened. “What’s wrong?”

  “Grayson is fine. He’s safe with your mom.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Desi’s daughter is being held behind the school.”

  “Oh, please no. Speed up,” she demanded, slapping the dash. “Don’t you have one of those portable sirens?”

  He floored the accelerator. Thank God, Grayson was okay, but his safety didn’t dull the potential seriousness of the situation. What the hell had happened to Teague’s sleepy little town in the past few years? His heartbeat raced at the pace of a jackrabbit being chased by a coyote.

  He barely braked or slowed the entire way back into Summer Shoals. He weaved through Main Street by tapping his horn a few times. When they made it to the school, he could see Abby Ruth had been right on target. People were everywhere, and he had to slow down to five miles an hour to avoid running over anyone as he maneuvered his truck into the parking lot that already held his deputies’ cars.

  Abby Ruth’s white dually was cattywampus across two parking spaces in front of a weathered blue pickup truck, making it look like a toy. People were clustered around the parking area, pointing toward the ball fields. Teague drove the outer rim and parked near his deputies.

  He picked up his radio again to quickly call Dispatch. “Unit One on scene. What else do you have?”

  “More details on suspect. Name, Fanning, Randy. Age 36.”

  “Copy. Go ahead.”

  Dispatch said: “White male, six foot two, blond, wearing Atlanta Braves jacket. He’s taken his daughter unauthorized.”

  “Copy. Go ahead.”

  “Fanning has his daughter in the home dugout over on the baseball field.”

  “Copy that.”

  Jenny braced herself, one hand on the dash, the other on the back of her seat. “Teague, what can I—”

  “Stay here,” he said. “Don’t move. I’ll have someone get your mom and Grayson to you.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Jenny staying out of this insanity was simply a given.

  He grabbed his gun from under the seat and shoved out of the truck. As he jogged toward his team of deputies, townspeople shouted snippets of information to him.

  “It’s Desi Fanning’s ex.”

  “The little girl is crying.”

  “He’s not supposed to be in town. I think she has a restraining order against him.”

  “Been holed up for about fifteen minutes now.”

  But what Teague was looking for was some insight into this guy. If he was going to defuse the situation, he needed more than just the facts. He needed inside the man’s head.

  “Get those people out of here,” Teague yelled to one of his deputies. He approached Deputy Winston and asked, “Where are we?”

  “He’s got her in the dugout on field three.”

  “Anyone have eyes on him?” Winston was still new. From reading the guy’s application, Teague knew he’d taken negotiation courses but had never conducted a live one. “Have you had any discussion with him yet?”

  “No. I didn’t want to screw anything up.” Winston shook his head, his eyes wide and a little wild. “But I started g
etting guys into position. Matthews is on the far side trying to get a spot where he can see Fanning.” He handed Teague an earpiece for his radio, which he’d need to keep the chatter for his ears only once he got close to the guy.

  “How’s the little girl?”

  “All quiet on that end.”

  “And what do we know about the dad?” A shrill cry rose above the crowd before Winston could answer.

  “Oh my God, Teague.” Desi pushed through the crowd closest to the scene. Her normal smile was nowhere to be seen. Instead, her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, and her hair looked as though she’d shoved her hands through the strands multiple times. “He’s got Gabby. He’s got my baby.”

  Damn, Teague felt for her. A single mom doing what she could to keep her kid safe, and then this happened. “We’ll do everything we can, but what I need right now is for you to remain calm and stay here with my guys. You cannot get close to the situation, do you understand?”

  “But she’s alone with—”

  He grabbed her shoulder, made sure she was looking directly into his eyes. “I will take care of your daughter. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  She swallowed, obviously forcing back tears. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now I need some information on your ex. What does Randy do in his free time? What’s something that makes him happy?”

  “I don’t give a damn what he likes to—”

  “I need to know about him to get your daughter out of there.”

  “He drinks and…he…he likes to play video games.”

  Not much to go on. “Any particular one?”

  “I…I can’t remember. Something with guys shooting guns.”

  “A nickname for your daughter? A favorite family vacation spot?”

  The rest of the color drained from Desi’s already pale face. “I don’t remember. I’m so scared.”

  “It’s okay. You think of anything you tell my deputy, okay?” He squeezed her shoulder and said to Winston, “Help Desi over to Unit Four and have her stay there so if I need information I can get it. Make sure she has someone with her. Hold the perimeter, and make sure Matthews stays out of sight on the far side of the field. Wait for my instruction.”