Clean Lines (Cedar Tree #4)

by Freya Barker

  Afraid I'll say something I regret, I hang up the phone, seething with frustration.

  It's dinnertime and I worked all day without a break until now. A quick stale sandwich from the cafeteria is all I manage to grab before calling the Phoenix PD. One bite that tastes like sawdust and I'm no longer hungry either. I turn to toss the remainder of the sandwich in the garbage when a figure in the doorway startles me.

  "Jesus! Katie, you scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?"

  I smile up at my newly married, very pregnant and annoyingly happy friend, Katie Whitetail.

  "Had a session with Kendra and got a craving for a Harissa grilled chicken sandwich from the Farm Bistro and decided to bring one for you too. You mentioned last week you were working late shifts?"

  She waves the paper bag in front of my nose and just like that my appetite is back. Snatching it from her with one hand, I wave her over to a vacant chair with the other.

  "Sit. Take a load off. Where's your hunky husband?"

  "Out on a job. Been gone for two days and already I'm sick of eating alone." She takes a big bite from her sandwich and continues with her mouth full, "Blue just sits there and stares at everything that goes in my mouth. It's starting to creep me out."

  "So I'm it? I get to be your dinner buddy? Lucky me! I just tossed some three week old sandwich from the cafeteria in the trash fully expecting to go hungry, so this is very welcome." I reach over with my sandwich and touch hers with it.

  "Cheers."

  "Crud! I forgot napkins," Katie grumbles, trying to lick the Harissa aioli dripping off her fingers.

  "Hang on, I've got paper towels here."

  Plopping a roll on the table in front of her, I sit back down and start eating mine. Damn this is good. I groan with every bite I take until I hear Katie chuckle.

  "What?"

  "Sounds like a friggin' porn movie in here."

  "Shut up and finish your sandwich," I tell her in between bites.

  Ever since Katie moved to Cedar Tree earlier this year and I took over as her physician, we’ve become fast friends. Suffering from a brain injury, it took her a while to regain her mobility, but she is well on her way to a full recovery. Of course finding herself pregnant shortly after getting involved with one of her coworkers at GFI, has been the best motivator. Both she and Caleb are investigators and worked together long before their relationship turned into something more than just professional, but in short succession they went from colleagues to husband and wife. I'm tickled pink that they want me to take care of her through the pregnancy as well.

  It's always been a dream of mine to have my own family practice. Nothing big, but something manageable. A clinic that would offer, not just straight medical care, but other types of health services as well. Kendra and I sometimes talk about where we would set one up. She's the physical therapist who's gotten Katie this far and still sees her regularly. Between Kendra and I, we could already offer quite a range of services.

  Pipe dreams; that's all they are. The reality is the clock on the wall telling me I have five more minutes before I have to get out there again.

  "That was so good. Thanks for bringing me dinner," I tell Katie, wiping the remnants off my lips.

  "My pleasure. Now are you going to tell me what had you so upset when I came in?"

  Wondering if I should confide in her, I decide to just tell her in great lines what has happened. Katie is one of the few people I've let in a bit on my background.

  "I told you James sent Fox back here to live, right?" When Katie nods I continue, "Well, we haven't heard from him since he left a message last week saying not to contact him, that he'd be in touch. Nothing since, so I called his firm in Phoenix and they haven't seen him in over a week. Not only that; his house has been broken into. I called the Phoenix police, but they seem to be content assuming he must've taken off. Despite the fact his house turned up broken into. Go figure. Also, in that message he left me, he said something about being in trouble, but when I mentioned that to the cop I was talking to, he seemed less than impressed. I'm just getting a really weird feeling and I'm worried. I can tell Fox is too, although I haven't even filled him in on everything."

  Katie grabs my hand over the table. "Want me to look into it? See if we can find anything out for you?"

  I shake my head. "No. I don't want to cause any problems right now. I don't know what is going on frankly, but I have a nagging feeling Fox may be involved too, even though he still hasn't opened up about what happened between him and his dad."

  I get up and gather the garbage and plop it in the bin before washing my hands at the sink. I'm surprised we haven't been interrupted yet. I should've been back in the ER almost five minutes ago.

  "I really have to hustle but we'll be in touch later. I have a couple of days off coming up."

  Katie gets up as well.

  "Hang on, before you run off, Caleb and I are planning a pig roast at the barn in a couple of weeks. Are you game?"

  "A pig roast?"

  "Yeah. I wanted to do something country-ish... for the housewarming. It should be all finished by then. I've never done one before and Caleb said his brother would help cook. They used to do them all the time. I've invited the whole gang."

  "Sure. Let me know the date when you pin it down. I want to make sure I have the day off. Oh, and I'll bring someone," I add, thinking I'll try to convince Fox to join.

  Katie's eyebrows shoot up in her hairline. "Really? Do I know him?"

  "Ha. Yes you do, in fact. Fox, you twit. Who else? You know I don't date."

  "Damn. I was hoping... I mean, of course I'd love for Fox to come if he wants to?"

  I roll my eyes at her, knowing full well she’d like nothing more than to have me find a man now that she’s found hers. I have my hands full with my son right now though. Don’t really feel the need to add more testosterone in the mix.

  "I'll check with him. Gotta run now, honey. Thanks again."

  I give her a little wave over my shoulder as I head down the hall toward the ED.

  "So how come you're not asking me to that party, Sheriff?"

  Fuck. I knew I made a mistake when I hooked up with Jenna. The woman grates on my nerves with her assumptions and her cutesy nicknames. It doesn't matter how often I tell her I'm not interested in any kind of relationship, it seems to go in one ear and out the other. She manages to zone in on me like some homing device whenever I'm within range of the hospital. It's creepy as shit. For the longest time, she'd been making eyes at me while I still had hopes to set things right with Naomi, but after she knocked me down once again, I turned around and found a willing Jenna ready to take me home. So I went. Not my proudest moment, nor were the moments that followed, when I went back to try and fuck away the frustration over a woman I couldn't have. Like a total moron I got sucked right in when guilt compelled me to take her out for a few meals. When she started spouting around that we were an 'item,' I called things off right away. Asshole move, I know, but I never promised anything more than that, and I've always been brutally clear about it. Today is no exception. I don't need that kind of bullshit and even though I was called away to help settle down an injured but unruly prisoner before I could set her straight, I waste no time when she corners me at the nurse's station the moment I walk back out.

  "Jenna, for fuck's sake, how many times do we have to go over this? I've been straight with you from the start; there is no relationship. There never was and it's not going to happen now. I've held back before, not wanting to cause a scene in public, but you're not letting up with the inappropriate behavior in public. You're leaving me no choice. Drop it already."

  I really feel like an absolute ass already, but I'm fed up from having to pry her off me every time she spots me. The look on her face is one of anger; surprisingly. I had expected maybe tears or hurt, but she's clearly pissed off. When she turns on her heels and marches down the hall, she almost knocks Naomi over. Fuck. I hadn't seen her there and she looks equal
ly pissed. Isn't that great.

  "You seem to have a way with women, don't you, Sheriff?" she hisses as she walks by me.

  Fucking brilliant.

  The woman who's been stuck under my skin like some kind of festering splinter; the one I haven't been able to banish from my thoughts for longer than a few hours at most since the day I first set eyes on her, has to be witness to yet another one of my prouder moments. I should pack it up and move to Alaska. Start the fuck over again, 'cause it seems no matter what I do, however well I do professionally, I manage to screw up my personal life like nobody's business.

  Thank God I manage to avoid both angry women while I wait for my prisoner to get fixed up enough for me to take to jail. Next time I'll send a couple of deputies; be a long time before I set foot in this damn hospital again.

  Two weeks later I'm breaking my own vow.

  We've had some reports of vandalism near Crow Canyon Archeological Center come in over the last few weeks. Predominantly littering and a bit of damage at some of the excavation sites, which I suspect may be the work of teens. I've been checking around there after dark a few random nights without any luck, but tonight I can spot the unmistakable glow of a fire as soon as I pass the outer building of the center. Turning off all my lights, I pull into the brush on the side of the dirt road to call for some back up. They may be kids, but if they're hopped up on booze or drugs, my badge won't impress them much. Until I know what I'm dealing with, I'm not going to barge in blind.

  "Dispatch"

  "Carol, it's Joe. Any patrols west side of Cortez? I'm at Crow Canyon, at the Center. There's activity tonight."

  "Sir, I've got Drew coming up the 160 from the airport. I'll send him through."

  "Perfect. Tell him to cut his lights coming in. I'm going to check things out on foot."

  "Ten-four"

  I flick off the interior light before I get out of the truck. In the dark night, even a small light like that would stand out. Closing the door quietly, I try to take in my surroundings. It's probably easiest for me to stick to the path or at least the softer soil on the edges. I don't want to alert anyone to my approach. For now all I want to do is have a look at who is there and what they're up to.

  I manage to stay on the trail until I can hear loud voices and laughter coming from the direction of the fire. In fact, I'm getting so close, I can hear the occasional spitting of wet wood. The occasional flicker of flames is visible through the trees. I start moving into the brush, careful not to make too much noise. Slowly circling around, I try to find a decent spot from which to observe.

  I'm just settling in against the trunk of a good-sized tree, with a prime view of the small clearing where three young guys are drinking and smoking, when I hear crashing from the woods behind me. Before I even have a chance to react, a fourth kid comes stumbling out of the brush right in my path. Fuck.

  "Shit! Run!"

  At the sound of their buddy's yells, the three idiots by the fire take off, but my focus is on the tall skinny kid tromping through the undergrowth in front of me. I call out and identify myself, but the dumb fuck just keeps running, until I suddenly see him disappear before my eyes. Closing in, I notice we've reached the edge of another dig, this one about six feet deep, showing the remnants of what could be a kiva, and the kid is crumpled at the bottom whimpering, holding his wrist which is bent at an awkward angle. Stupid kid ran right off the edge in the hole.

  I take my flashlight off my belt and shine it down in his face. Dammit.

  "You Doctor Water's kid?"

  I've seen him around town with Naomi a few times in the last few of weeks. Surly shit, from what I can tell. A timid nod is all he gives me. Great.

  "What's your name?"

  "Fox... Fox Miller," he tells me, his head hanging down.

  I look around me to get my bearings and grab my radio, which only gives me static.

  "Alright kid, I'm gonna have to get you out of there myself and then we better get you fixed up. Looks like you broke your wrist. May well be the least of your problems though, Fox."

  With the help of a discarded ladder on the side of the excavation, his sweater and my belt stabilizing his arm and my body behind him to guide him up, Fox manages to get out of the hole.

  Ten minutes and a short stop to douse the flames later, we get back to my truck where Deputy Drew Carmel has pulled up with his patrol car.

  "You see the other kids?"

  "Managed to chase down one; he's in the back of my unit. The other two were gone by the time we got back here."

  "All right, take that one in. I'm gonna have to take this one to the hospital. He fell running away from me. Dumb shit broke his wrist. We'll be in after."

  "Later, Sheriff."

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Fox? What the hell?"

  As expected, Naomi is front and center when I bring her son in to the Emergency Room. A quick scan around the lobby shows no sign of Jenna; and thank God for that. One spiteful woman is enough for me today. Ah fuck, I'm lying. One look at Naomi and I remember, with vivid clarity, what attracted me to her in the first place. The glossy dark hair, gentle curves, big eyes, all wrapped in a tight little package that drab green scrubs can’t hide. Happens only every time I see her. Maybe that's the real reason I've been avoiding her more and more. Fucking burns to hit your head against the same brick wall over and over again. And make no mistake, that brown-eyed little spitfire has built one damn fine brick wall around her.

  Right now she's too preoccupied with her son to mind me, so I take a wall just inside the treatment room where she ushers him to just observe and listen. Naomi is carefully unwrapping my amateur sling, mumbling under her voice the entire time.

  "Mom. Stop fussing."

  Oh boy. Wrong thing to say, kid. I can see her back straighten as she rests her hand on the bed beside her son and leans her face in close.

  "Fussing?" The low timbre of her voice would be all sorts of sexy if it weren't intimidating as shit. "You think I'm fussing? You be glad I am keeping my cool and am in my professional mode, Fox, because let me tell you, I'd like nothing better than to break your other wrist for you right now!"

  The kid has the good sense to flinch, despite the fact that he is easily a head taller than his mom.

  "I can't believe that for weeks you wouldn’t talk to me, hardly do more than grunt actually, yet the first thing resembling a sentence I get is 'stop fussing?' This after you are brought in to the hospital by the Sheriff...the Sheriff, I tell you, with a fucked up arm when you and I both know you were supposed to be at home doing homework. Yeah, I'll stop fussing. Let me get right on that!"

  Turning around, she comes toward me and I have to fight to hide the grin that has crept up on my face. I'm only awarded a deadly glare before she slips past me into the hallway, leaving me with a miserable-looking Fox, whose head couldn't hang any lower. Save for a brief glance my way and a small smile I send him, the room stays quiet until Naomi returns with a nurse in tow.

  "Stacy will take you to X-ray, but I can tell you right now that wrist is broken and out of position. I just need to know how badly."

  "Mom, I'm—" Fox starts, but Naomi holds up her hand.

  "I don't want to hear it right now. Give me time to cool off and talk to the Sheriff. I don't want to say shit I might regret, Fox. Go with Stacy; she'll take care of you."

  Technically I should follow Fox wherever he goes but I have a feeling he won't be running off. I stick around to see Naomi deflate the moment Stacy wheels the stretcher out of the room.

  "Hey. Come on, let’s grab a quick coffee in the caf and we can talk," I offer, hating the tired and defeated look on her face.

  I honestly didn't think she would go for it, but she shrugs her shoulders and pulls herself together and leads the way over to the nurse's station to let them know where she can be found.

  My only excuse for following Joe to the cafeteria without argument is that I'm done. Stick a fork in me done. I'm about to lose my shit and I don'
t want to lose it all over the ER in front of my coworkers, thank you very much.

  I've been on eggshells these past few weeks since Fox got home. He's been virtually unapproachable, especially since finding out his dad is missing. Several phone calls to the Phoenix PD have not brought any relief on that front yet either. No, if I thought it was tense between us before he left for Phoenix, it's ten times worse now. I’ve tried now, on several occasions, to get an explanation out of him on what led his father to send him home. Fox has continuously shut me down, each time more insistently than the last. The only thing that’s given me some semblance of peace is that at least he hasn’t been getting into any kind of trouble outside of the house. In fact, he has mostly stayed inside and hasn't even had his old friend Miles around. That illusion is quickly shattered tonight when Joe walked him in, with his arm in a make-shift sling. Fuck me sideways.

  So here I am, sitting in the corner of the hospital caf with my hands wrapped around a hot coffee I probably shouldn't be drinking at this time of night. My son's in X-ray with what likely is an off-set wrist fracture, and across from me is a man who makes my skin crawl in the most grating and seductive ways equally. All I want to do is cry. I know I have to ask, or at the very least look up, but I'm afraid those last tattered threads that are holding me together will snap. So I do nothing but stare at the small puddle of coffee at the base of my cup, left from when I slammed it down too hard on the table.

  "Doc..." he starts softly, and his use of the unimaginative nick name he hasn't used in the last three years tears at my last bit of resistance. A ragged sob breaks free, followed by another, and then the lid comes off. I hear the scraping of a chair and knees pressing in to mine as Joe scoots his chair to shield me from view as I lose it. With one hand on the table in front of me and one on the back of my chair, his big body has me boxed in, but rather than crowded I feel oddly safe.

  Struggling to get a hold of myself, I grab a handful of napkins from the dispenser on the table and furiously start wiping my nose and face, all the while, Joe says nothing.