His knee suddenly jerked. Coincidence, or had her question triggered the involuntary response? She decided to find out.
“I’m sure our listeners would enjoy hearing about your work in New York and how it differs from Payson. Is it anything like the show, NYPD Blue? And what brought you here, practically to the other side of the country?”
Another knee jerk.
She’d definitely stumbled on to something.
“The crime rate is higher in New York,” he finally said.
Since Rowdy didn’t seem to mind, Carolina continued with the interview. “What exactly was your position?”
“Homicide detective.”
“Thank goodness we don’t have much need for that here,” Rowdy interjected.
“Yes.”
Neil’s carefully guarded control was puzzling, and Carolina liked puzzles.
“Did you ever have to shoot anybody in the line of duty?”
“Yes.” The muscle in his jaw flexed.
“Often?”
“No. Just once.”
Rowdy wiped imaginary sweat off his brows. “Whew! That’s good to know.” He signaled Carolina that he was taking back the interview.
She resigned herself to sitting quietly.
Ward’s head and shoulders abruptly appeared on the other side of the glass. Because of her position, she was the only one who could see him. He pressed a sheet of notepaper to the glass. On it was written “Ask him if he’s ever been shot at.” When she raised her eyebrows, Ward shook his head and rolled his hand in a hurry-up gesture.
Strange, but Carolina wasn’t in a position to question her boss.
“Has anyone ever shot at you?” she interjected during the next pause.
Neil’s knee jerked again, hitting the underside of the table.
Several seconds of dead air space followed, which wasn’t a good thing in radio.
Rowdy gave her an annoyed look and jumped in. “Sorry, folks. Slight technical difficulty. I think we’re good now.”
He pointed a finger at Carolina then placed it on his lips. She hitched a thumb at the window, mouthed Ward and shrugged one shoulder. Neil stared curiously at them, obviously not understanding the byplay.
“How does your daughter, Zoey, like Payson?” Rowdy read from the list of questions. “She’s five, right?”
“Yes. Six next month.”
“Is she in school?”
He nodded.
“The folks can’t see you, Sheriff,” Rowdy joked. “You have to actually talk.”
“Yes, she’s in school.”
Ward held up another paper instructing Carolina to ask the question about being shot at again. Rowdy didn’t give her a chance.
“How does she feel about her dad being appointed acting sheriff?”
“She hasn’t said,” Neil replied.
Ward wiggled the paper.
Carolina threw up her hands, indicating she was helpless. They’d moved on to a new topic. It made no sense going back to the old one.
All at once, Neil swung around.
Ward immediately yanked the paper down. Carolina wasn’t sure if Neil had seen it or not. When he turned back around, his gaze locked with hers.
Yeah, he’d seen it all right. There was no mistaking the anger blazing in his eyes.
Rowdy conducted the rest of the interview, which lasted another two minutes, keeping it light and mildly informative—which was a credit to his talent, considering Neil didn’t make it easy for the deejay.
After the interview, they went right into a song.
“Good luck, Sheriff.” Rowdy shook Neil’s hand. “Appreciate you dropping by today.”
“No problem.” Neil didn’t hide his desire to get out of there as fast as possible.
Carolina tried to detain him outside the door. “I’ll be interviewing Sheriff Herberger later this week. Any chance I can do a follow-up interview with you?”
“Afraid not.” He inclined his head. “Have a nice day, Ms. Sweetwater.”
No sexy slight curving of his lips, no murmuring her first name.
She watched him walk away, thinking she’d liked him a whole lot better yesterday.
Ward materialized from nowhere and barked in her ear, “My office, fifteen minutes!”
Good. She had a few things to discuss with him, too. Like what the heck he’d been doing waving those papers at her?
“WELL?” WARD ASKED.
Carolina once again occupied the visitor chair in her boss’s office, squished between his desk and the cubicle wall.
“It’s compelling reading, but so what?” She handed him back the pages he’d printed out, copies of articles that had originally appeared in the New York Times.
“This is news.”
“Actually, old news. And not necessarily relevant.”
“The people of this county are entitled to know about their new acting sheriff. The man responsible for their safety and well being.”
“Know what? That his wife died tragically, the victim of a stray bullet?” Even as she said it, Carolina suffered a stab of pain. How truly awful that must have been for Neil. Not to mention his poor daughter.
“A bullet that was fired by the man he was attempting to apprehend,” Ward said. “That raises some serious concerns in my mind about whether or not he acted appropriately. Whether he’s the right man for the job of acting sheriff.”
“According to the article, he was investigated by Internal Affairs and found innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“The story is newsworthy, and it’s our job to present it.”
“When did KPKD get into the investigative reporting game? We’re not a twenty-four-hour news station. People tune in to us to be entertained. ‘Information is a perk delivered in small doses,’” she added, quoting him from a departmental meeting the previous month.
“Management wants us to raise the quality of our news segments in order to compete.”
“By exploiting Neil Lovitt’s personal tragedy?”
“By informing the public of a situation that concerns them.”
“Surely he passed a rigorous background check when he was hired as deputy sheriff. If there had been anything irregular or questionable, he wouldn’t have been hired.”
“People lie.”
Neil didn’t strike Carolina as the lying type. “Why didn’t you bring this up with me before the interview?”
“I just happened to do an Internet search on him.”
She couldn’t help gaping at Ward. “And you happened to do this during the interview, not before?”
“It was an afterthought. A good one.”
“I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.” While she didn’t agree with Ward, he was the news director and decided what stories were read on air.
“I’m putting you in charge of the story.”
“Me!”
“You have the experience.”
“I’m no reporter.”
“Your degree’s in journalism, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“And you interned for two years at The Arizona Republic.”
“I wrote obits and two-paragraph fillers on spelling-bee champions or Eagle Scouts. This kind of stuff is way out of my league.” Not that she’d do it even if she was qualified.
“I thought you wanted more responsibility.”
“I do, but not at the sake of Neil’s reputation.” Had it been anyone else, Carolina would have jumped at the opportunity. She liked Neil, and investigating him felt a little like betraying a friend.
“Fine.” Ward rocked back in his chair. “Then I’ll give someone else the Sheriff Herberger interview.”
Her mouth fell open. “That’s blackmail.”
“That’s reassigning. And my prerogative as news director.”
“Why me?” Her indignation was turning into anger. She didn’t like being manipulated.
“Because Neil Lovitt likes you.”
“Hardly.”
“He does, and he’s more likely to let his guard down with someone he likes.” Manipulating her and Neil. “What if we—”
He cut her short with a raised hand. “I’ve made my decision. It’s your story. End of discussion.”
She refrained from saying more. For the moment.
“Get moving,” he told her. “You’re on again in four minutes.”
Carolina went to her own cubicle around the corner and familiarized herself with the latest traffic update. Her heart, however, wasn’t in it. As expected, there were no changes from earlier. Traffic was slow and go in the center of town, and an RV with engine trouble was creating delays on the highway just outside of town.
Glancing at her watch, she noted the time and jumped from her chair, shoving it just a little too hard. The loud screech caused two heads to pop up over the cubicle walls.
“Sorry.”
She hurried down the hall, waging a silent war with herself. Ward didn’t make idle threats. If she refused this assignment, he might fire her, claiming insubordination. He’d done it before.
How could he not see there was nothing more than a sad, heart-wrenching story in the death of Neil’s wife? Then again, Neil had responded oddly several times during the interview and didn’t appear happy about his temporary promotion.
Could there really be more going on with him than immediately apparent?
Her old journalistic itch unwillingly returned.
Damn Ward. He was probably counting on that.
NEIL’S FIRST DAY as acting sheriff wasn’t going well, not that he’d expected anything different after the interview with Rowdy and Carolina. Fortunately, his shift was almost over.
Lifting the phone to his ear, he pushed a button on the dial pad. A generic female voice told him, “You have forty-six new messages. Press number sign to—”
He disconnected before the voice could finish.
When he’d first arrived at the station after leaving KPKD, he’d listened to the two dozen messages already waiting for him and taken another dozen calls before issuing instructions that all nonemergencies be sent directly to his voice mail. The congratulations were nice, if tedious. Even the complaints and angry rants didn’t bother him.
It was the threat to resign or else that got to him, turning his blood to ice and releasing a flood of unwelcome memories.
Neil had no idea if the anonymous caller was serious—the threat wasn’t specific, only saying he’d regret accepting the position of acting sheriff, but he’d refused to take any chances and immediately reported the incident.
He pushed another button on his phone. “Mary, can you come in here, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mary Twohorses, Sheriff Herberger’s—and now Neil’s—secretary, padded into his office, amazingly light on her feet for a woman of such generous proportions. She’d started with the sheriff’s department back when two small rooms served as headquarters and typewriters were used in place of computers. “Can I help you with something?”
“Go through my voice messages from today, please. Delete the unimportant ones and make note of the calls I need to return.”
“Of course.”
“There are a lot of them.”
“No problem.”
She wore the same patient smile she always did. Nothing ruffled Mary Twohorses’s feathers, for which Neil was glad. It had taken him less than an hour on the job this morning to realize he’d be lost without her.
“Thank you.” He opened the top right drawer and retrieved his few personal possessions.
“Are you leaving for the day?” she asked.
“Yeah. I have to pick up my daughter from after-school day care.” He pocketed his cell phone and keys. “Is R.J. here yet?”
“Just arrived.”
“Good.”
Mary followed Neil down the hall as far as her office. She would normally have gone home already but was staying late to help with the transition. In the central room, Neil met up with R.J., his lead deputy and the one in charge tonight, and quickly briefed him before leaving by way of the rear door.
The ride to the elementary school his daughter attended didn’t take long. He swung into the main parking lot and joined the long line of vehicles already there. A few minutes later, Zoey, along with a crowd of about twenty-five children, burst through the double glass doors. They were closely monitored by a trio of energetic day-care workers. Zoey was released only when Neil stepped out of the patrol car and came around to the passenger side.
She skipped over to him, clutching a packet of papers as if they were constructed of spun gold while dragging her Hello Kitty backpack on the ground. The hair her babysitter, Carmen, had so carefully arranged that morning hung down into her face. Her T-shirt was rumpled and stained with what Neil guessed was finger paint, and her sneaker laces were untied.
He ignored her disarray. To him, his daughter looked adorable.
“Daddy, Daddy!” She delicately peeled the papers away from her chest and waved them at Neil. “Look.”
“How about a hug first?” He bent down to her level.
She obliged his request. When he would have held her a moment longer, she pulled away. “You have to read this.”
As if he could. The papers were upside down and moving from side to side. He did manage to recognize the Kinder Kids logo, the after-school activity club to which Zoey belonged. He assumed the papers were information about another field trip to the movies or the museum.
“Okay. When we get home.”
“No, now. Pretty please,” she added, her small china-doll face filled with excitement and anticipation. “It’s really important.”
“I have to drive.” Her profound disappointment tugged at him while he buckled her into the passenger seat, walked around the car and climbed in behind the steering wheel. “Why don’t you tell me what it says,” he suggested and turned the key.
Her blue eyes, so much like her mother’s, lit up. “They’re giving riding lessons. Every Saturday. Can I go?”
“I need to know more before I say yes.” Cost wasn’t the issue. Neither was transporting Zoey, though it could be complicated while his schedule remained up in the air.
His daughter’s safety was his biggest concern. The anonymous caller hadn’t mentioned Zoey but until Neil found out if the threat he’d received today was real or a prank, he wasn’t about to let her go anywhere except to school without him.
“You promised,” Zoey complained. “You said when we moved here I could learn to ride a horse.”
She was right. He had, in fact, made several promises in an effort to ease their relocation from New York to Arizona. Ones he’d since come to reconsider. She’d begged him for a pony. He had appeased her with an offer of riding lessons. But that was before he saw how big horses were and how tiny and vulnerable his daughter looked sitting on top of them.
“I’ve taken you riding. Twice.” He joined the line of exiting vehicles loaded with their cargos of children.
“A pony ride at the fair doesn’t count.”
“What about that time at Carmen’s cousin’s house? You had fun.”
“Which is why I want to go again.”
She sounded too adult to be just five-going-on-six. Old enough, he supposed, to take riding lessons. The after-school program wouldn’t be offering them to students unless there was minimal risk, right?
Why didn’t she want a kitten or to be a ballerina like other little girls?
“I’ll go over the paperwork when we get home. See how much the lessons cost, what time they are and how long they last.” If they were only an hour, he would stay and watch Zoey. Closely. “Wintergreen Stables isn’t too far from home.”
“That’s not where they’re having them.” Zoey studied the papers, her brow furrowed and her mouth pursed. Despite her efforts, Neil doubted she could read more than a couple dozen words. “Miss Meyers said Bear Creek Ranch.”
“Huh. Really?”
Well, th
at threw a whole new light on the subject. After the interview this morning, Neil wasn’t sure he wanted to cross paths with Carolina again. Not until Sheriff Herberger returned to work. She’d asked too many personal questions. Questions Neil hadn’t wanted to answer.
On the other hand, what were the chances she’d be at the ranch when he was there with Zoey? Probably nil. Certainly not enough for him to break a promise he’d made to his daughter.
“I’m not saying yes, mind you,” Neil told Zoey. “But if everything works out, you can take lessons. For a while, anyway. Then we’ll see how it goes.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” She leaned across the seat as far as her seat belt would allow and hugged his arm. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, kiddo.”
Neil hoped he didn’t regret his decision. Carolina’s probing questions weren’t his main reason for avoiding her.
It was the temptation she presented and what could happen if he gave in to it.
The threatening call had served to remind him of the dangers associated with his job and his commitment to keep the people he cared about safe. Something he’d failed to do with his late wife.
Protecting Zoey might prove difficult, but protecting Carolina was another story. He just had to stay the hell away from her.
Chapter Three
Carolina stood at the foot of Sheriff Herberger’s hospital bed and listened to him answer Rowdy’s questions. An earbud attached to a tiny portable transmitter allowed her to hear both ends of the interview, though the echo effect was disorienting.
A firm grip on the bed rail and a tapping right foot allowed her to vent a little of the frustration building inside her.
Ward hadn’t been completely forthright with her the other day, which made his strong-arming her into doing an investigative piece on Neil all the more unconscionable. Carolina wasn’t interviewing Sheriff Herberger as much as babysitting him, a task one of the techies like Adrian could have easily handled. The questions she’d been given for the sheriff were actually being asked by Rowdy. Her job was limited to going over the list with Sheriff Herberger before the interview and coaching him with his responses if necessary.
Right. The sheriff might have undergone major surgery two days ago, but twenty-six years as an elected official had honed his public-speaking skills, enabling him to carry off a simple radio interview with ease.
The Accidental Sheriff Page 3