MOST ELIGIBLE SHERIFF

by Cathy McDavid

  “I have other plans.”

  “More sheriff stuff?”

  “What can I say?”

  She made a last attempt to sway him. “The kids will miss you.”

  “I’ll see them tomorrow.” Cliff had volunteered to watch Maeve’s lively brood in the evening while she helped her mother decorate the community center for the upcoming square dance.

  Maybe Ruby would go with him to babysit. Scarlett had.

  He reconsidered almost immediately, and it had nothing to do with Ruby’s discomfort around children. She was a crime victim and, therefore, off-limits. They could carry out her ruse without spending every evening together.

  “All right.” Maeve sighed expressively. “If you change your mind, just call. Mom always makes enough food for an army.”

  Grabbing the bag with the phone, he bid his cousin goodbye and left the store. With no other calls coming in, he went directly to the station.

  Only one other car occupied the small lot outside the station. It belonged to Iva Lynn, his dispatcher, secretary and, when the need arose, his deputy. She’d even filled in as sheriff for two months, in between the time Cliff’s father retired and Cliff transferred from the Reno police force.

  His parents had left behind a lifetime in Sweetheart to reside in Phoenix where the dry air and milder weather was kinder to his mother’s arthritic joints. At first, Cliff wasn’t thrilled about returning to the home of his youth. A big-city police force offered more opportunity. But then, there had been the incident with Talia.

  His fault. No one else’s. The only way he’d be able to salvage his career and his pride was to start over. He didn’t like thinking of himself as having returned to Sweetheart with his tail between his legs, but it felt like that some days.

  Naturally, the townsfolk had welcomed him with open arms. The incident at the Reno P.D. was never mentioned.

  Cliff wiped the dust from his boots on the mat outside the door, and then entered the large room that served as the sheriff’s office. Right next door was the mayor’s office.

  Both rooms had been built onto the side of the community center. Across the lot was a metal building, which housed the town’s fire engine and served as a base for the volunteer fire department. Adjacent to that was a helicopter landing pad for use in air-transport emergencies.

  Luckily, this cluster of buildings was spared when the forest fire raged through town. The same couldn’t be said for half of Sweetheart’s homes and businesses. The town’s recovery was painfully slow. Cliff’s aunt was committed to accelerating the process. Her latest efforts included the Mega Weekend of Weddings.

  A buzzer sounded as he opened the door. Iva Lynn didn’t look up from her computer. “How’s things at the Gold Nugget?”

  “Morning. And they’re fine.”

  What Iva Lynn really wanted to know was how the square dance invitation had gone with Scarlett. Like Cliff’s aunt and cousin, Iva Lynn took too much interest in Cliff’s personal life. Also like his relatives, she believed she had a right.

  Iva Lynn had worked for Cliff’s father during his entire career and, at the very start of her career, for Cliff’s grandfather. The running joke in town was that Iva Lynn came with the position of sheriff. She might have reached the age of retirement, but she was far from retiring. Cliff wasn’t the only one convinced the entire tiny department would fall to pieces without her.

  Sarge roused from his resting place on the floor next to Cliff’s desk and hop-walked over to him.

  “Hey, buddy.” Cliff bent and stroked the three-legged shepherd behind the ears. “How’s it going?”

  Sarge licked his hand in response.

  “I have a job for you.”

  “What’s that?” It was Iva Lynn who asked the question.

  “I’m taking him over to Scarlett’s trailer. He’s staying there for a while.”

  “Why’s that?” This time, Iva Lynn did glance up from her computer. “I thought she didn’t like dogs.”

  While Sarge technically belonged to Cliff, Iva Lynn watched the dog during her days at the station. As such, she felt entitled to comment on his care, much like she felt entitled to comment on Cliff’s personal life.

  “She doesn’t like dogs.” Cliff had every intention of filling in Iva Lynn regarding the twins’ switch. For one, he’d need her help making the hourly rounds. Also, she’d surely read the reports from Detective James as she printed them off.

  “Who’s Ruby McPhee?” Iva Lynn asked as if on cue. “Scarlett’s sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “She staying with Scarlett?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Until her stalker is arraigned?”

  “Give me a chance to read the reports. Then we’ll talk.” Cliff patted Sarge one last time and went to his desk, dropping the bag with the disposable phone on the corner before sitting. The dog hobbled back to his spot.

  Sarge might be missing a hind limb, but Cliff had meant every word he’d told Ruby about his trust in the dog’s ability to protect her. When danger was present, Sarge became a beast.

  “Whatcha got there?” Iva Lynn stared pointedly at the bag.

  “Don’t you have schedules to complete?”

  “They’ve waited till now. They can wait another two minutes.”

  Cliff was surrounded by curious women. This one stared him down until he answered her. “A cell phone.”

  “For who? You?”

  “No.”

  “This Ruby McPhee?” Iva Lynn’s carefully penciled brows bobbed like those of a ventriloquist’s puppet. She was no dummy and might even now be putting two and two together.

  Cliff ignored her and removed the reports on Crowley from his in-box. The stack was heavy. Also neatly ordered. Iva Lynn had definitely read the reports. He didn’t ask her about the contents, wanting to process the information with a fresh eye.

  “Any coffee left?” He glanced at the pot on the counter.

  “You asking me to get it for you?” Iva Lynn’s brows danced again.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He stood and helped himself to the remaining cup. Wincing at the strong taste, he added a second spoonful of sugar.

  “We’re low on filters, should you be near a store anytime soon.”

  “I’ll pick some up later.”

  The bickering was all in fun. Deep down, the two were good friends and worked well together.

  Cliff sipped his coffee as he leafed through the reports. Crowley’s bio read like a case study straight out of a college psychology textbook. His mug shot raised the hair on Cliff’s arms. It showed a normal-enough-looking young man, except for the demented gleam in his eyes.

  Rumors had circulated about Crowley’s father for years. A local congressman who’d used his wife’s family name and bank account to win elections. More than powerful, he was power hungry, narcissistic and domineering. His string of mistresses was legendary. It included the likes of Playboy models, minor celebrities, other politician’s wives and the most renowned madam in Vegas.

  His wife, Crowley’s mother, had emotionally checked out years ago. Her penchant for drugs, alcohol and younger men regularly made the tabloid headlines, along with pictures of her husband’s latest marital infidelity. Crowley’s picture, too, since the attack on Ruby.

  His older brother was a clone of their father. In copies of reports from the elite boarding school the brothers had attended as teenagers, there were repeated mentions of bullying. More than once, Crowley had been found beaten. Though he would never admit to who’d inflicted his injuries, the school administration strongly suspected his older brother. With a history like that, it was no wonder Crowley turned out the way he had.

  Ruby wasn’t his first stalking victim by any means. There had been previous charges against him,
brought by fellow students at the University of Nevada. The charges, however, were suddenly and inexplicably dropped.

  Cliff suspected the victims were paid off, much as the family’s attorneys were pressuring Ruby. He studied the photos of Crowley’s other victims, observing the physical similarities to Ruby. The creep clearly exhibited a preference for pretty brunettes.

  Cliff was no expert but what he saw in Crowley was the product of a severely dysfunctional family. Neglected at home, he sought love and acceptance elsewhere. When the women he targeted didn’t appreciate his over-the-top-attention, he responded the way he’d been taught by his father and older brother. He forced himself on the women.

  Slowly Cliff leafed through the remaining reports, stopping to read the police interview with Ruby. He was particularly interested in the history of her and Crowley’s relationship.

  She’d met him at work. His father had been a regular at the VIP lounge for years but only recently started bringing his twenty-two-year-old son with him. Though seven years separated Crowley and Ruby, he’d taken an instant liking to her and begun visiting the VIP lounge on his own. When he wasn’t seated in her section, he’d ask to be moved, becoming insistent if he was refused and once making a scene.

  Ruby had been nice to him, in the way she was nice to all patrons. Mild, harmless flirting was part of the job. Crowley, starved for attention and completely infatuated, mistook her niceness as affection. He started bringing her gifts, which she refused, citing policy. Then, he began approaching her outside the lounge when her shift was over.

  Ruby had complained to her manager, and Crowley was asked, politely, to leave her alone. After that, he started following her home and confronting her at the entrance to her condo building or in the parking garage.

  When asked why she didn’t file a police report at the time, Ruby stated that Crowley really hadn’t done anything other than make her feel uncomfortable. Her manager had promised to speak to Crowley’s father. She also felt safe inside her condo.

  Famous last words, Cliff mused. How many victims had assumed they were safe behind a locked door? How many thought their stalker would take no for an answer?

  Ruby had been wise to get out of Vegas when she did. Crowley’s stalking tactics had progressed in the past year, as his calculated attack on Ruby and the lengths to which he’d gone to track her new number proved. An arrest and possible pending trial were not scaring him off, either.

  At the sound of his cell phone ringing, Cliff’s hand jerked. It was Ruby, making her first hourly check in.

  “Sheriff Dempsey.”

  “It’s Ruby,” she said in a low voice. “Calling as ordered.”

  He set the reports down, enormously glad to hear from her.

  Detective James was right, this Crowley was one scary creep. Ruby would be in real danger if he ever found her.

  Chapter Five

  Ruby shifted into second gear. The old truck accelerated slowly, groaning as it chugged down the hill. At the bottom, she turned onto the main road. A glance in her rearview mirror confirmed Cliff was behind her.

  As promised, he’d arrived at the ranch to escort her home after work. She’d waited for him in the truck, not wanting to give him a chance to get close. The hug this morning had been awkward enough.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d think Sheriff Dempsey had enjoyed holding her. She’d enjoyed holding him—which was why she’d decided to nix any close contact.

  Forcing herself to relax, she checked the rearview mirror again. This Sarge, whoever he was, must be meeting them at the trailer. As far as she could tell, Cliff was riding solo in his SUV.

  The trip through town went slower in the truck than it had in her zippy compact car. Ruby was able to really take in the sights, something she hadn’t done earlier.

  Sweetheart was exactly as her sister had described it. Quaint, charming and picturesque. While not fully restored after the forest fire, easily half the homes and commercial buildings had been rebuilt or replaced. Everywhere she looked, redbrick chimneys climbed the sides of log houses, welcome signs decorated front doors and wildflowers bloomed in yards or along the road.

  The town teamed with activity. She wasn’t surprised to see cowboys on horseback, along with hikers, amateur prospectors and dirt-bike enthusiasts.

  There were also couples of varying ages, holding hands or linking arms as they strolled the sidewalks. Little by little, Sweetheart was reclaiming its title as a popular tourist spot for exchanging vows. Ruby understood why. If she were to ever elope, this would be her destination of choice.

  About a quarter mile from the trailer, Cliff suddenly pulled into the adjoining lane and passed her. By the time she reached the trailer, he was already parked and on foot. He met her at the truck, and she noticed he was wearing his gun. A shiver ran through her as she rolled down the window.

  “Give me the key,” he instructed in a no-nonsense tone. “Stay put until I give you the all clear.”

  “Do you really think Crowley’s in there?” At Cliff’s pointed stare and outstretched hand, she promptly did as told.

  It was becoming a habit, this relinquishing of keys. First Sam and now Cliff. Ruby was feeling increasingly uncomfortable about the loss of control in her life.

  Cliff entered the trailer slowly, calling out, “Sheriff’s Department.”

  Had he pulled his gun? Ruby suppressed another shiver. So much for assuming she’d be safe in Sweetheart. It was no different than Vegas.

  After a few minutes, he emerged and signaled to her with a wave. As usual, his expression was inscrutable.

  “No Crowley?” she asked, meeting him on the porch.

  “If you’re thinking I’m going overboard—”

  “I’m not. Just wondering if we’ll be going through this same routine every day.”

  “Not with Sarge on duty.”

  “Speaking of which—” she glanced around “—I guess he’s late.”

  “He’s in my vehicle.”

  “Really?” Apparently this Sarge was small in stature. And antisocial. Oh, well. So long as he was good at his job, she didn’t care.

  “Come meet him.”

  She walked with Cliff to his SUV, her curiosity on the rise. Once there, she peered inside the SUV’s open passenger side window and was met by two liquid-brown eyes and a lolling tongue.

  “He’s a dog!”

  Cliff opened the door, and the big shepherd piled out.

  “Hey, fellow.” Without thinking, she went down on her knees and stroked his head. “Are you a good boy?”

  He responded by licking her face. She laughed.

  “You like dogs,” Cliff said, observing her with interest.

  “I love them. If my schedule wasn’t so hectic, I’d have one. No, two.”

  “Scarlett doesn’t like dogs.”

  “She’s more of a cat person.” Ruby ruffled Sarge’s neck, burying her fingers in the thick fur. “We’re gonna be good friends, you and I.”

  “I brought his food.” Cliff reached into the SUV and removed a bag of kibble and a leash from the floor board. Also a brown paper bag she assumed contained other necessities for Sarge’s care, like treats and a water dish.

  “Great!” Ruby popped up and started toward the trailer, only to stop short when she noticed Sarge’s awkward gait. Shock reverberated through her. “Oh, my God! He’s missing a leg.”

  “He gets along fine without it. Don’t worry. It won’t stop him if Crowley or anyone else uninvited shows their face.”

  She recalled Cliff’s earlier remark. “Sarge is a police dog.”

  “He served five years with the Reno P.D. K-9 Unit.” Cliff waited while Ruby and Sarge climbed the porch steps. “He was injured during a drug raid.”

  “Poor fellow.” Her hand lingered on t
he dog’s head.

  “The chief of police awarded him two medals at his retirement ceremony, one for his injury and the other for merit.”

  “Well deserved!” Something else occurred to Ruby as she pushed through the trailer door. “That’s where you worked, too, isn’t it? The Reno P.D. Before you were elected sheriff.”

  “Technically, I was appointed sheriff after my dad retired. The election’s this November.”

  He’d avoided the topic of his police career. Ruby wanted to know more. “Were you one of those K-9 officers?”

  “K-9 handlers. And, no, I wasn’t.”

  “Then how did you wind up owning Sarge?”

  “I worked Drug Investigations. Sarge and I were on a lot of busts together. During his last one, he saved my life.”

  “Really! How?”

  They wandered toward the tiny kitchen. Cliff deposited the paper bag, kibble and leash on the table.

  “We stormed a meth lab. Three of the occupants were apprehended. A fourth was hiding. I didn’t see him until it was too late. The perp jumped out from behind a corner and pulled a gun on me. Sarge attacked him.”

  “Is that how he lost his leg? Was he shot?”

  “He fell. The perp fought Sarge off and threw him through a second-story window. He landed on concrete.”

  Ruby’s gaze traveled from the dog to Cliff. Her opinion of both soared. “It’s a miracle you survived. Sarge, too.”

  “His attack gave me the distraction I needed to take the perp down. There was never a question about who Sarge would go home with when the veterinarian released him.”

  “I should say so.”

  “He’ll protect you, Ruby.”

  Cliff, she realized with a start, was a fake. The hard exterior he put forth shielded a tender heart. He was good with children, cared about the people he served, and he loved Sarge. Not just because the dog had saved his life.

  It was easy to see why her sister had been attracted to him. Ruby wasn’t immune, either.

  “Do I need to know any special commands?”