by Mysti Parker
Leigh flipped on her hazard lights and pulled off onto the shoulder. She put the car in park, shut off the engine, and dug through her purse until she found her cell phone. The battery symbol, in danger zone red, showed 2 percent. She reached for her charging cable, where it usually resided in the cigarette lighter charger, but it wasn’t there. Then it dawned on her. She’d forgotten to bring her cable back out to the car after her dad had borrowed it last night for his new iPad. All the more reason she needed her own place.
“Bloody hell!” Leigh tended to take on Jo’s native curses when angry. She dialed her not-always-a-good-example mom, hoping there would be just enough charge to ask her for help.
Jo answered. “Hi, Leigh. What’s up?”
“Hey, Mom, I’m—”
Beep, boop. She looked at the screen. Solid black. Leigh groaned and tossed her phone onto the passenger’s seat. She smacked her forehead on the steering wheel repeatedly.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
It was a good two miles from the doctor’s office. On a normal day, she’d walk it, but summer humidity had rolled into Beach Pointe, and already a layer of sweat had formed on the back of her neck now that the AC wasn’t running. Her stomach rumbled again. She’d probably pass out from low blood sugar if she tried to walk it and end up in a muddy ditch covered in cigarette butts and Moon Pie wrappers.
Of course, the car had to break down on the lonely stretch of Highway 80 between her home and downtown. The nearest house, if she remembered correctly, belonged to Mitch Perkins, a loner who owned a rundown farm and carpet-cleaning business. He’d been a client of hers briefly, but the guy was just plain creepy. She’d rather melt in her car than risk running into him.
A siren chirped behind her, followed by the crunching of tires on the gravel-covered shoulder. How lovely. Now she’d been pulled over. Surely the officer wouldn’t think she stole the car with it being parked on the shoulder with the hazard lights blinking.
Someone tapped on the driver’s side window. She lifted her head, keeping her hands in place on the steering wheel, and dared to look at the officer. Jesse Maddox stared back. She rolled down the window, half relieved and half nervous.
He tipped his hat. “Mornin’. Car trouble, Doc?”
“Yeah.”
“Want me to call a tow truck, or do you have someone on the way?”
“That would be great. My phone’s dead. I’m already late for my doctor’s appointment.”
Jesse looked up and down the road then focused on her again. “I can take you there if it’s not out of the county.”
“Um…” She swallowed in vain to relieve her dry mouth and glanced at the clock: 8:03. Any other time, she may have refused, but she needed to keep this appointment. That headache yesterday could have just been a headache or… It was what followed “or” that she worried most about. “Okay. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“That’s my job,” he said, and opened her car door.
Leigh scooped up her purse and tossed her phone into it. Jesse’s hand was there waiting for her when she started to get out. To take it or not to take it—that was the million-dollar question. Would it look impolite or disrespectful if she didn’t? Would it lead him on if she did? Her stupid growling stomach was messing with her reasoning. Screw it. She took his outstretched hand and let him help her out of the car. It was strong and callused, like a farmer’s hand might be. A real man, her granddad used to say, has calluses, not manicures.
Jesse followed her to his police car and opened the back passenger’s door.
“What, am I under arrest?” Leigh snapped. Heat and hunger had sapped the last of her composure.
“No. Sorry, it’s department policy. I can’t let anyone but another officer ride up front. But we can skip the pat down…unless you’d rather not.”
She didn’t know whether to be offended or not until he winked and grinned. “I’d rather skip that part, thank you,” she said, fighting back a smile of her own.
“Suit yourself.” He waited for her to get seated and shut the door. He took a walkie-talkie from his duty belt and spoke into it, though she couldn’t hear what he said. Putting it away, he climbed into the driver’s seat and flipped on his turn signal. “Hope you’re not sick or something,” he said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror before pulling onto the highway.
“No, just a routine checkup.” No sense unloading the details on him. She was supposed to offer comfort and concern to her clients, not the other way around.
He nodded. “I hate going to the doctor.”
She smiled up at his reflection. “Really?”
“I hate needles.” He shuddered.
Surprising, but considering what he’d revealed so far in their sessions, she suspected his rough exterior hid a tender marshmallow interior. The more she was around him, the more she wanted to find it.
“I don’t even feel them anymore.”
“Do you get a lot of shots?”
“Not so much anymore.”
“Got a lot as a kid?”
Her gaze locked on his in the rearview mirror. She averted her eyes, watching blurry fencerows speed by through the car window. The doctor’s office came into view just ahead on the right. “Turn here—at Doctor Kushman’s office.”
“Got it.” Jesse turned right and pulled into the parking lot. He stopped in a space near the door, got out, and came around to Leigh’s side, offering his hand again to help her out. A big brown envelope was tucked under his arm.
She really hoped he didn’t notice her trembling fingers as she grabbed onto his and climbed out. “Thanks for taking me.”
“Sure. I’ll walk you inside.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I know.” He produced the envelope. “I have to serve some papers to one of the nurses.”
“Okay.” She didn’t ask what was in the envelope, though her natural curiosity and the blasted hunger made it difficult.
He followed her the short distance down the sidewalk and opened the glass door to the gentle ding-ding of the welcome bells. The receptionist, Cindy, looked up as she approached. She was a sweet young woman, with fresh round cheeks, permed blonde hair, and sparkling eyes that said she had yet to experience enough heartache to dim them.
“Hi, Leigh. Everything okay? We called but couldn’t reach you. We called your mom, too, and she’s worried.” Cindy glanced timidly at Jesse, who removed his hat and nodded at her.
“I’m fine. My car broke down, and my cell was dead, but Deputy Maddox stopped and was kind enough to bring me here.”
“Oh!” Cindy exclaimed, smiling nervously at him. “That’s really nice of you.”
“It’s just my job.”
A nurse came through the door that led to the exam rooms. She consulted a clipboard. “Leigh Meriwether?”
Leigh flinched. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“The lab is ready for you, and then you’ll go right into room three. Dr. Kushman will see you as soon as he can.”
“I’ll call your mom and let her know you’re here,” Cindy added.
“Thanks.” Leigh squeezed her purse strap, holding it close to her chest, then turned to Jesse. “I, um, r-really appreciate the ride.” Her nerves were getting to her, making her shiver even in the stuffy office. “Th-thank you.”
“No problem. I called for the tow truck to take your car to your dad’s dealership.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded, concerned-filled eyes lingering on hers a moment too long.
She turned around and headed down the hall before things got too awkward. It was really nice of him to escort her here and get her car towed. But, like he said, it was his job. He got paid to help stranded women and old ladies cross the street. But then again, she’d been broken down on the interstate once, and at least three state cops had passed by before her dad arrived to help. Maybe the county sheriff’s department played by nobler rules. Deputy Maddox certainly seemed to. Maybe the bad boy of Beach
Pointe had grown up after all.
Chapter Seven
Jesse felt kind of bad that he’d lied about serving papers to one of the nurses. But Leigh had been so anxious, he didn’t want to leave her there alone. Both her folks were at work. Might as well save them from unnecessary time off. He had his radio on him if anyone needed him. He figured she might be a while with the doctor, so he decided to reach out to another person on his list.
This one would be tough. He’d pulled a lot of stunts, but The Chicken Incident of 2003 had been a doozy. Sarah Donner, wife of the pastor of First Baptist Church, had despised him ever since. Any time he’d run into her in public, she leveled a death glare at him. Every now and then, she would call in a “suspicious activity” at one location or another. Jesse would go out to investigate every time, and of course, found nothing. Reverend Donner, on the other hand, had always been kind to Jesse. Which was why he needed to try to make amends with the preacher’s wife.
He dialed up the number he’d saved in his phone for just such an occasion.
She answered on the first ring in her high-pitched, breathy voice. “Hello? Donner residence.”
“Hi, Mrs. Donner, this is Jesse Maddox.”
Silence. He expected her to hang up.
Instead, she replied with an impatient, “Okay, and…?”
“And, uh, I wanted to apologize for what I did to your chickens. I’d like to do something to make it up to you. Is there anything you need? Yard mowing, fence painting, toilet cleaning?”
She giggled. “Stop it.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Not you.” Her voice became muffled as though she had a hand over the receiver. “Stop it, George. I’ll be in there in a minute. Light the candles and turn on some Marvin Gaye.”
He grimaced, trying not to imagine them getting it on. “Mrs. Donner, sounds like I've caught you at a bad time...”
“Yes, okay. If you want to do something nice for once, then you can come feed my darling Barkley and let him go out to pee while we’re on vacation so we don't have to pay a pet sitter. He shouldn't be a problem. He's a very sweet boy and loves to cuddle. But don't you dare let him onto the street. If anything happens to him, I'll make sure you're fired.”
“Uh…yeah, no problem. I can take care of Barkley. Just let me know when.”
“I will. If there’s nothing else…?”
“No, nothing else.”
“Okay, then, goodbye.” Bleep, bloop, and she was gone.
Jesse scratched his head. How the hell had that gone so smoothly? He supposed she was just impatient to get “frisky” with the reverend. They never seemed like the frisky type, but what did he know? He went back inside and sat in the waiting room.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
“Could I get you some coffee or anything?” Cindy asked from the receptionist’s desk.
“No, thanks.” Jesse picked up a Better Homes & Gardens magazine and flipped through it.
Glancing up, he noticed a woman across the room staring at him. Sometimes the uniform and holstered gun made people nervous. He tried instead to focus on the latest trends in feng shui-ing your outdoor entertainment space, but he worried about Leigh. He looked at his phone—it had been an hour already. Leigh’s car should be at the shop by now. He just hoped she was okay.
But this woman wouldn’t stop staring. She looked to be about his age or a little older, with sagging skin on her neck and arms. Maybe she’d lost a bunch of weight. And then it hit him…
“You remember me, don’t you?” She closed her magazine then crossed her arms while she fixed him with a death glare.
“Margaret Sandusky?”
“It’s Richardson now.”
“Oh.” He tried to remember what number she was on his list, but that really didn’t matter as much as the fact that he had no idea she’d been sitting across from him this whole time. His mouth went dry.
“You called me Large Marge, remember? And Husky Sandusky?”
“Um, yes, ma’am. And I’m very sorry that I did.”
A pregnant lady and an old man who sat nearby frowned at him. The old man shook his head. A disapproving audience didn’t make this any easier.
“Well, I lost all that weight,” Marge explained. Her voice was shaky as though she might cry at any moment.
“You look good. And I’m sorry for how I treated you back then. I was a big, stupid kid who did a lot of stupid things.”
"You think that makes up for it? You have no idea what I've been through. My husband is on disability, and I had to quit culinary school so we could pay the mortgage. I tried to kill myself last year; did you you know that?"
"No, and I'm sor-"
"And here you are, Mr. High and Mighty Cop with not a care in the world, expecting me to forgive you just like that." She snapped her fingers, barked out a sob, and went to the receptionist’s desk. The candy bowl rattled on the counter as Marge grabbed a red Life Saver, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. “I’m supposed to be fasting. Now look what you’ve made me do.”
Her loud crunching almost drowned out his voice. “Um, maybe you shouldn’t—”
She grabbed an orange one and devoured it too. “What? Eat? Should I starve so I look better for you?”
“Um...no.” He wanted to sink into his shined-up shoes. This had not gone down the way he had planned, but then again, neither had the others on his list.
The pregnant lady and old man glared at him. How in the hell was he supposed to fix this one? A green Life Saver was the next to succumb to Marge’s wrath. Cindy the receptionist came out from behind the desk with a box of tissues.
Jesse’s cheeks burned. Should he offer to pay for Marge’s Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers membership? Become her fitness accountability partner? Shit. He’d read too much womanly advice in Better Homes & Gardens.
“I can make it up to you,” he said helplessly. “What can I do to help you?”
“Help me? You know how you can help me? Go fuck yourself!” Marge wolfed down a pineapple Life Saver and threw a lemon one at Jesse. It bounced off his head.
Cindy took Marge by the arm and gave her a tissue. “Come on, sweetie. You’ve had enough. Let’s get you to the restroom before your mascara runs.”
The receptionist led a bawling Marge toward the exam rooms. Leigh came back into the lobby just then. One eyebrow arched as Cindy and Marge passed by, then her eyes grew wide as she spotted Jesse.
He sprang from his seat, flinging the Better Homes & Gardens into the chair beside him. “Ready?”
“Yeah, but…what are you still doing here?”
“Never mind. After you.” He motioned toward the door and followed on her heels.
“What in the world happened in there?” Leigh asked when they reached his patrol car.
“Just get in. I’ll explain later.”
“Ah, so which number is she?”
“Three, I think. Or eight. She caught me totally off guard.”
“I can see that.” Leigh laughed. Then her voice grew somber. "She’s had a hard time lately. It’s to be expected that she’d be upset coming face-to-face with someone who ridiculed her for her weight.”
Ouch. Hearing that hurt. The thought occurred to him that Marge could be one of Leigh's clients. How many people on his list might have confided in Leigh about how he treated them? Maybe that explained her nervousness.
But he had to suck it up. “So how do I make amends?”
“Just give her time. You can find some way to reach her, I bet.” She grew quiet and stared out the window as he turned onto the highway, fidgeting with her purse strap.
He didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t know whether the doctor’s visit had upset her or if he had. So, he said the first thing he could think of. “Your dad has your car. Do you want me to take you to your office? He can bring it to you there.”
“No, I’m taking the day off. Could you just take me home?”
“Sure.”
&nb
sp; “You know, you really didn’t have to wait there for me. Mum could have picked me up.”
“It’s fine. She was busy at the clinic when I called her, so I told her I’d wait for you. I’ve got my radio and phone if I’m needed.”
As if on cue, his cell phone rang, coming through the car speakers via Bluetooth. He glanced at the caller ID. “Sorry, I need to take this.”
She waved her consent, and he hit accept on his phone.
“What’s up, Pa?”
Jesse’s grandfather, Sylvester Maddox, cleared his throat twice –loudly – as he always did when he called someone. Jesse saw Leigh wince through the rearview mirror. He considered pulling off the road and putting the phone to his ear so she wouldn’t have to listen to this.
But the old man had already started rambling. There was no shutting him up now. “Nurse had to leave early. Can you get my pills at the pharmacy? I need to take my noon ones soon, and I’m all out.”
“Did she leave, or did you run her off?”
“I can’t help it if she can’t take a joke or two. Can you get my pills, or should I take my scooter?”
“I’ll get them. Just take a nap or watch The Walking Dead until I get there, okay? No driving down the road on your scooter anymore. You’re gonna get flattened by a semi.”
Jesse clicked off and heaved a giant sigh. “Sorry, Doc. I’ll run you home first. He can wait.”
“No, that’s fine. Go get his pills. I can’t let a fellow Walking Dead fan be without his medicine. I’d also like to meet him since you never mentioned your grandfather.” That one eyebrow of hers arched all accusing-like as she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Sorry. Are you sure you want to meet him? He’s a real piece of work. I can’t guarantee he won’t say something offensive.”
“Try me. I’ve heard it all.”