Linda Barrett - Count on a Cop

by Summer at the Lake

  Kris beamed at him and Rick’s pulse rate doubled. Everyone around them seem to disappear, and he saw only her. His sojourn at Morningside Lake was turning out to be better than he could have hoped.

  He didn’t kid himself, however, about Kristin’s primary focus. Ashley would always come first. And that was fine with him. Their friendship wouldn’t last forever. It wasn’t realistic to think it would. Stuff always happened.

  The sheriff interrupted his thoughts. “So now that we’re mostly family here in the kitchen,” said the lawman, glancing at the gathering from the doorway, “we have a problem to discuss.” Sam stared at Rick. “And you’re going to help solve it.”

  “You could give De Niro some competition,” replied Rick, standing at the table, his hands locked on the back of a chair. “Get on with the show…and then we’ll see.”

  “You won’t let me down.”

  Rick remained silent. And not too happy. The man had manipulated the entire situation. The entire assembly, too. Rick’s whole family was there, as well as Kristin and Ashley, Ben and Sophie, and even the Costellos, who lived on the other side of the Coopers and who’d arrived that day.

  “I’m short staffed,” began Sam. “Two days ago, my deputy, Pete, left on his honeymoon, which I had planned for. But today, three officers called in with a stomach flu that kept them retching all night, and left them useless. One went to the hospital. It’s contagious, too, I might add.”

  Rick knew where this was going, and he shook his head. “I’m done, Sam. You know that.” He had nothing to hide with this group. He’d known his neighbors for years.

  “Captain Stein said I could borrow you.”

  Rick straightened to his full height. “You called…?” He heard the incredulity in his own voice. His old “friend” stopped at nothing to get his own way.

  “I have to protect this town. Your town, too. It seemed a common-sense solution, especially with the big parade scheduled for Monday. Frankly, I need help.”

  “But you don’t really want me, Sheriff. You know what happened. I’m not up to it. Get someone else.”

  Sam replied in a soft voice, “I don’t want anyone else. I’m looking at the best.”

  Rick’s spine sagged and he snorted. “My armor’s cracked, remember? I’m no good now.”

  “What I remember saying is that you’re human. And that’s the best trait of all for a lawman to retain.”

  Standoff. Sam leaned against the wall and studied the silent room. “The trouble with perfectionists,” he mused, “is that they always think about the occasional failure instead of all the successes.”

  He focused on Rick again. “What about the dozens of awards and commendations you’ve earned? What about all the lives you did save? Answer that!”

  “I never kept count.”

  No one spoke or moved. Except one young girl.

  Ashley pulled on his arm. He leaned down.

  She put her hands around her mouth and whispered in his ear. “Quincy wants to tell you something.”

  All else disappeared—the sheriff, the family, the conversation, his nightmare, even Ash’s mom. Instantly, Rick slipped into his cop persona, as easily as he’d slip into a comfortable old sweater. Alert. Focused. Absorbing details. His attention was totally on Ashley.

  The youngster pointed toward the front of the house, away from everyone else. Rick emitted a low whistle, and Quincy immediately sat at attention, eyes on him, waiting for his next order.

  Rick motioned the dog to heel, and the three left the kitchen without another word.

  IN RICK’S EXPERIENCE, most children used dolls or puppets to tell a story. But if Ashley wanted to talk through Quincy, as a number of others had, that was more than fine with him. The girl led him through the hall and onto the front porch, carefully closing the door behind them. She knelt next to the dog.

  “You need to tell Rick something for me. Okay? Because I just heard that he’s a policeman. And he’s smart. And he likes to take care of us, even though Mom doesn’t like that part.

  “I think maybe his vacation should be over, so he can search for the man who…who…”

  She started to sob, but caught herself and quickly wiped the tears away. Rick waited as she continued her conversation with Quincy. “The man who hurt me. Rick has to put that man in jail forever so he can’t do it again. Then my stomach will feel better. Mom called somebody to sell our house, Quince, because the man knows where we live. But if Rick catches him, we could just go home. What if we don’t have any place to go when Aunt Marsha comes back?”

  Did the perp, in fact, know the McCarthy house? Could he reside in the community? Or was Ashley merely repeating what the guy had told her?

  The child paused in her conversation with the dog and eyed Rick. Then turned back to Quincy and whispered, “I think I would remember more if he helped me.”

  Ash knew more. It was in her voice. In her quick glance at him from the corner of her eye. She was testing him. Sending him a message. Until now, she’d kept her own counsel, either because of the perp’s threats toward her or to protect her mother. Rick had no doubt the bastard had promised to harm them both. And since that day, the girl had trusted no one. It could have been either fear or trauma, or maybe both, that had kept her silent until a few weeks ago. When she’d met his therapy dog.

  “And you know what else?” Ash said to Quincy. “I saw Mom on the Internet doing research on guns. There were pictures all over the screen. But I think it would be better if Rick puts on his gun.”

  A heck of a lot better.

  Ashley wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck. “I love you, Quincy. You make me brave.”

  She started to cry then, with no holding back. Her face was buried in the dog’s thick fur, her skinny torso heaving. That’s when Rick had to blink back his own tears. He’d never seen this wonderful child cry before. He dropped to his knees, embraced her and kissed her forehead. But spoke to the dog.

  “Quince, will you tell Ash that she’s the bravest girl we know? She’s absolutely number one.”

  He stroked her hair, then her cheek. “Can you look at me now, Ash?” he asked quietly, and the child complied. “Let’s think about something so that you’ll believe me. Remember the first time you saw Quincy…how scared you were?”

  He waited for her nod.

  “Now the two of you are tight buddies!”

  A smile slowly crossed her face. She was paying attention, listening to him.

  “Remember you were afraid to play the piano in the beginning? And now you’re at that keyboard all the time. That’s being brave. Every time you jump into activities you used to do, it’s like kicking that bastard to hell.”

  Her eyes widened, but she nodded vigorously.

  There were times when salty language seemed appropriate to him, even with sensitive youngsters. This was one of those times. And Ashley seemed to agree.

  He wanted to ask her more pertinent questions, questions about the attacker, about her memories from the movie theater. But the girl had done enough work tonight. Seeking him out had been a giant step. He had to let her set the pace.

  He simply asked, “Do you want Quincy to tell me anything else right now?”

  She shook her head. “Not tonight,” she whispered, holding the dog.

  “That’s fine, sweetheart. Whenever it’s right for you.”

  She graced him with a dimpled smile, and one impression stood out from all the rest. He’d passed her test. Ashley McCarthy trusted him and was asking for help.

  He couldn’t let her down.

  IT WAS DIFFICULT to make polite conversation when her daughter was confiding in someone else. Eventually, Kristin left the kitchen, meandered to the front hall and paced. She wasn’t too surprised to find Sam Keaton joining her a minute later. Well, he might be useful.

  “What do you think she’s telling him, Sheriff? What’s taking them so long?”

  “I imagine we’ll find out—sooner or later. Probably later. Not
today. Not tomorrow. But someday. She’s in good hands, so don’t worry.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Nah. It’s never easy to watch people struggle.” Sam waited a moment, then said, “Isn’t your daughter seeing a therapist?”

  “Yes. We’ve been going once a week.”

  “Do you go into the office with her? Or do you wait outside?”

  She could figure out where he was heading with this line of questioning, but she didn’t like being manipulated.

  “My daughter’s therapist has a Ph.D. in psychology and is licensed to practice. Her specialty is children. She knows what she’s doing.” Kristin waved toward the door. “Although Rick’s been a terrific neighbor, he’s not a psychologist. The situation here is not the same.”

  Keaton’s brows reached his hairline. “There’s where you’re mistaken. Rick Cooper has personally witnessed and acted on more human behavior problems than any shrink in any office.” He smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Ashley’s in excellent hands out there. He’s the best of the best. Totally trustworthy.”

  “Well, I one hundred percent trust the dog…”

  “Hoo-ha! You’ll trust the man, too.”

  The front door opened, and the man in question followed Ashley and the shepherd into the house. Ashley’s smile and her gay “Hi, Mom” had Kristin’s hopes dancing again. She grabbed Rick’s arm as Ash disappeared to find her new friends.

  “What happened out there? What did she say?”

  Rick’s expression softened as he stood before her. “You have a fabulous kid, my little lioness. You should be very proud of her. I know I am.” He glanced aside for a moment, then directly at her again.

  “I’m sorry, Kris, but in order to maintain her trust, I have to keep her confidences. What she shared stays between us.” He took Kristin’s hand and squeezed it. “I will admit that there was nothing unusual, nothing very specific this time, and I’m sure you’ll agree that her trust is more important than your curiosity.”

  Curiosity? Was that what he thought? She pulled her hand away. “Ashley is my daughter. I am her mother,” she said in a hard and deliberate tone. “No one cares more about her welfare than I do. So don’t talk to me as though I was fishing for gossip simply to satisfy my idle curiosity!”

  Quicker than lightning, pain flashed across his face and was gone. But he continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

  “I’m sorry if I insulted you. I didn’t mean to. Ashley and I are building a new side of our relationship, and I can’t share what she said.” He sighed. “No matter what words I use right now, you’re not going to like them, so what’s the point? You’re just going to have to trust me.”

  He studied his mentor for a long moment. “I’ll do it. Get me a uniform, Sam, and I’ll wear it tomorrow morning. Captain Stein will be happy. Hell, he’ll be delirious.”

  If buttons could really pop from a man’s shirt, they would have from Sam’s. “I never had a doubt. And now I’ll spread the word.” He took several steps and halted. “You bringing the dog?”

  “Nope. Ashley agreed to take care of him while I was on duty.”

  “She what?” Kristin’s shock and annoyance rang clearly in the hall as the sheriff walked back to the kitchen. “Didn’t you think I should be consulted about this?”

  “No.”

  “No?” The man was unbelievably arrogant. Why had she never seen this side of him before? “What if I say I don’t want the responsibility for Quincy?”

  “I’m gambling you won’t say that. We’ve all seen how Ashley’s thriving with Quince. He’s her conduit for feeling safe with her memories. And I know you, Kris. You won’t hurt her by taking the dog away.”

  “Busted,” she admitted, “but I would prefer to have been asked.”

  He nodded. “Message received.”

  He already sounded like a cop, and she was on the verge of a meltdown. Routines were changing again, and now she had to take responsibility for the dog. Oh, well…she’d consider it a tryout.

  She rested her hand on the hall table. “Will this nightmare ever end?” she whispered.

  “Absolutely. It will, Kris. One day, I promise it will end. But as I said, you’ll just have to trust me.”

  He spoke with complete sincerity, but she couldn’t believe his words now.

  “I do trust you. But I don’t think you trust yourself. When the sheriff told you to ignore your failures, I recognized that look on your face. I’ve seen it in my own mirror a million times. What happened, Rick? How do you think you’ve failed?”

  She saw the tic at the side of his neck. The big swallow he took before replying.

  “The details aren’t important. It’s enough that I failed, and one failure is too many. I won’t fail again.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE’D HAD NO RIGHT to interrogate him about his past. After tossing and turning, Kristin got out of bed, threw on her cotton robe and brewed herself a cup of chamomile tea. A magazine she’d bought during the week lay on the table, and she started riffling through the pages. She saw nothing but Rick’s face: his pain, his sincerity. She had to admit his intentions were good.

  She didn’t think he was pulling a power play. He thought he was doing the right thing by keeping the confidence of the victim. In this case, her daughter. Kristin could understand the theory and almost forgive that decision. But in the end, he hadn’t promised to keep her informed in the future, either. He was monitoring Ashley’s case, and Kristin had no choice but to go along with him. That didn’t sit better with her than having to accept “We’re working on it” from the Mayfield Police Department.

  Trust me.

  She wanted to, but he was so complicated. Much more complicated than John, with too many layers—life and death layers. John had had no secrets. No hidden stories. Of course, they’d met when they were very young, in a college math class. Too young to have many secrets. Instead, they’d had dreams. Dreams they’d shared, and on which they’d built a life. John was exactly who he seemed. A good man. A wonderful husband and father for all the years of their marriage.

  Her heart stirred at the memories. Simpler times. Safer times. Oh, how she yearned for those simple times again.

  A soft knock sounded at the kitchen door. The clock showed it was past midnight, but she wasn’t afraid. She knew who it would be.

  “I saw your light,” Rick said as she let him in. Then he paused to stare. “Have you been crying?”

  “No,” she replied automatically. “At least, I’ve been trying not to.” She pivoted toward the stove, away from him, and lit the burner. “I’ll make more tea.”

  She felt his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging. “Kristin?” He whispered her name. “I’m sorry. Please talk to me.”

  The pressure of his fingers on her tight muscles—her neck, her shoulders, her arms—was as relaxing as a hot bath. Little by little, she felt more like a rag doll than an upright human. Her head lolled forward as more of her tension disappeared. “This feels wonderful….” She allowed herself to lean back against him.

  “Better than tears.”

  “You…you caught me at a bad moment,” she confessed. “I was looking backward, looking at the past, at happier times.”

  He turned her in his arms and drew her close. “I’m sorry, Kris.” He kissed her brow. “Sometimes life just stinks.”

  “Yes. It sure does.” She nestled against his broad chest, her arms around his waist, and said, “I’m still mad at you for keeping Ashley’s secrets.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But I know you understand why and accept it.”

  She heard the satisfaction in his voice and, to her surprise, it didn’t bother her very much. Ashley’s needs had to come first.

  “I guess I have to,” she said.

  “Thank you for trusting me.”

  His lips found hers—a gentle kiss. A slow kiss. A kiss that rocked her senses. She pulled away. Took a breath.

  “You’re w
elcome,” she said, “but I really don’t have much choice.”

  “Everyone always has choices. And I choose this.” He swooped down and kissed her again. Hard. Fast. Stunning.

  And she responded to him. Hard, fast and stunning. Not wanting to let go.

  “I hadn’t planned that, Krissy, but I’m sure not sorry. Maybe we’ll both be able to get some sleep now,” he said a few minutes later, just before he closed the door behind him.

  “Or maybe not,” she said, throwing the bolt home.

  Definitely not.

  RICK WOKE EARLY, eager to get to the sheriff’s office. Eager, but on edge. He couldn’t deny the twitch of anxiety that raced through his body. The last time he was on the job…No! He wouldn’t think about that now. He wasn’t negotiating hostage crises in this country town.

  He thought ahead. Even a short stint with Sam’s office would require an orientation to the computer systems and local procedures and contacts. And security for the big parade the next day had to be planned. The entire community would probably show up for the event.

  After a quick shower, he put on jeans and a long-tailed shirt, and strapped his gun to his waist. His cell rang.

  “Cooper speaking.”

  “Stein here. Are you in uniform yet?”

  No small talk today. “In about an hour.”

  “Good. But I want you in the city, Detective. So get to work, and then come home.”

  Whew! He wasn’t wasting time. “With all due respect, Captain, don’t count on it. I’m sending out résumés. The doc will tell you. Ask Romano.” Rick wouldn’t make any promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. “But, uh…Captain? I need a favor.”

  Now the man started to laugh. “Résumés be damned. That didn’t take long. Now I know you’re on the job. What do you need?”

  “Backup.” Rick filled him in on Ashley’s case. “I’m either going to get the perp or work with the family until they can live happily again without that closure.”

  “You’re getting too involved.”

  “Blame Quincy. The kid lives next door. Only has a mother. You can guess what they’ve been through.” He had to keep his emotions out of it. Objective assessment.