How to Land Her Lawman

by Teresa Southwick

  Then he’d gone and messed it all up. In a million years he never would have expected to even kiss her again, let alone be invited into her bed. It was a relief to have a plan in place so he didn’t hurt her like last time. They were enjoying each other with no strings attached. Although, for reasons he didn’t really understand, turning that page on the calendar just now had put a knot in his gut.

  “You ready to go?” he asked her.

  “Yup. Oh, I almost forgot—” She met his gaze. “I talked to Tom McKnight and the car has to stay there. He noticed the timing belt was slipping and he had to order the part he needs. It could take a couple of days to come in.”

  “No problem.”

  Will wouldn’t put it out there for the nosy woman in front of them to spread around town, but they were going to the same place. Heck, now that he thought about it, Clarice probably already knew that, too. His sister, father and nephew were aware that he wasn’t sleeping under the same roof they were. Again he was relieved that there was a plan in place to save April from being pitied by her well-meaning neighbors.

  “Let’s roll,” he said.

  The phone on the dispatcher’s desk rang and Clarice picked up. “Blackwater Lake Sheriff’s Office, Clarice speaking. How can I help you?” She listened for several moments then frowned. “Where?” After writing something down, she said, “I’ll send someone over to check it out.”

  “What’s going on?” Will asked when she hung up.

  “That was Jeannie Waterman. A couple of teenagers are acting suspiciously. In your neighborhood actually.”

  “Did she recognize them?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Doug Satterfield and Mike Hutak.”

  When law enforcement knew your name it wasn’t a good thing and he recognized these two. He held out his hand for her notes. “I’ll check it out since I’m going that way. See you in the morning.”

  “Bye, Clarice. Say hi to your hubby for me,” April said.

  “Will do.”

  They walked to the rear of the office and went out the back door of the building. Will’s SUV was parked right there and he opened the front passenger door for April. After she climbed in, he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

  He got in, then turned the key in the ignition. “I really hope Jeannie Waterman is overreacting. That it’s a couple of boys just hanging out.”

  “Me, too.” She flashed a grin. “I feel like a sidekick. Can I be yours?”

  “My what now?”

  “Come on, Will. Don’t be a stick in the mud and go all law enforcement-y on me. Every hero has a person he can count on in a crisis. A sidekick. You have one in Chicago.”

  “Yeah. But I call him a partner.”

  “Same thing.” There was pleading in her voice. “Please. Don’t drop me off. That will cost you precious time.”

  He had to admit she was right about that. A minute either way could mean catching these kids—or not. But if they’d really done something wrong, they were probably long gone. “Okay, you can come with me. But stay in the car.”

  “It’s hard to be an efficient sidekick from the right front seat of a vehicle,” she protested.

  “Take it or leave it.”

  “You’re very bossy,” she said.

  In the part of town where Will and April lived the houses fronted well-traveled streets with an alley in back for the garage. Unless these kids were complete idiots, that’s where they’d be pulling their crap. So, he drove slowly up and down the back ways near the address Clarice had given him.

  “There,” April said, pointing.

  Will didn’t see anything. Hedges in this area were nice for privacy, but could easily hide mischief in progress. “What did you see?”

  “Believe it or not, an egg went flying through the air.” She peered steadily through the front window then pointed again. “There,” she said again.

  “Okay. I saw it.” He pulled the SUV to a stop several houses away. “Stay in the car. I mean it.”

  He got out quietly, then soundlessly picked his way to the hedge that was almost as tall as he was. He peeked around it and sure enough the teens in question had egged the car in the driveway and were working on the garage door. Parked just two houses down was a beat-up old truck that he knew belonged to the sixteen-year-old Satterfield kid. Hutak didn’t have a driver’s license yet.

  Will walked into the open and stopped in the best place to block their exit if necessary. “Hey, boys.”

  They both whirled around and the younger one dropped the cardboard egg carton in the driveway, breaking the few that were left. The two of them looked guilty as sin.

  “Don’t even think about making a run for it. I know where you live.”

  “Are you going to arrest us?” Hutak was skinny, blond and scared.

  “Maybe.” Will watched their body language for any sign of running. “You want to tell me why you did this? You got a beef with someone who lives here?”

  “Maybe.” Satterfield had black hair and eyes with an attitude to match.

  Will didn’t miss the fact that the kid threw his own words back at him. “Smart ass.”

  He shrugged. “Or maybe we were bored.”

  That was probably more like it, Will thought. “Well, before I call your parents, you’re going to be busy cleaning up the mess you made.”

  “No way—”

  Will held up a hand to stop Hutak’s protest. He liked these two for the profanity-laced graffiti on the barns, too. “Before your mouth writes checks you can’t cash, I’ve got another question. If I search that truck of yours, Satterfield, am I going to find cans of spray paint?”

  The two exchanged another guilty glance. “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Seems like you’re going to have a lot to do for the rest of the summer painting over the stuff on the barns you vandalized.”

  “You can’t make us,” Hutak said.

  “You’re right about that,” Will agreed pleasantly. Behind him he heard the sound of sneakers and figured his “sidekick” had disobeyed orders. “But I can make the alternative to it feel like the lowest level of hell. Now let’s get this mess cleaned up before it dries and you’re looking at charges.”

  He marched the boys to the back door and a woman he didn’t know answered. After he calmed her down and explained the boys needed soap, water and rags to undo what they’d done, she was more than happy to oblige and leave him to supervise them.

  Satterfield hosed eggshells and slime off the garage and car. “Slave labor is against the law, you know.”

  “This is more in the neighborhood of punishment fitting the crime.” Will folded his arms over his chest.

  “You’re not really going to call my parents, are you?” Hutak was looking pretty sorry for himself. “If you do, I’m never going to get my driver’s license. I’m not even going to have time to learn to drive because I’ll be grounded for the rest of the summer.”

  “Look on the bright side. You’ll only be grounded when you’re not painting barns,” Will said. He heard laughter from behind him.

  “My life is over,” Hutak said to his friend. “I’m never listening to you again.”

  “You’re such a candy-ass.” But Satterfield didn’t sound quite as defiant anymore.

  When they’d finished, returned the cleaning supplies and apologized to the woman, Will called the parents. Within ten minutes both sets showed up. None of them gave him any excuses for their sons’ behavior. They expressed regret and appreciated him taking the time to teach the kids a lesson, saying they had the situation from here.

  After they left he joined April in the SUV. “You didn’t stay in the car.”

  “In sidekick school you’d flunk out for not backing up the hero.” She didn’t look intimidated like the teens.
“I was making sure you didn’t need help.”

  And speaking of help, the parents of those kids had thanked him for helping their children. He’d responded that he’d been happy to do it. Just now he realized that was the honest-to-God truth. It was the second time in the past few weeks that he’d found satisfaction in doing his job.

  He shouldn’t get used to the feeling. Since he’d arrived, he never missed an opportunity to remind people his status was temporary.

  His sidekick was temporary, too, besides being a whole lot cuter than his partner in Chicago. And wasn’t that a bitch and a half.

  * * *

  Will wasn’t quite sure how his dad had talked him into going fishing on his day off, but here they were at the Blackwater Lake Marina. He parked his SUV in the paved lot and they both got out. Just up the small rise he saw the house where the previous owner had added on an upstairs apartment to rent out. Jack Garner owned the whole property now and word was he used one unit for an office and lived in the other one. Just then the bestselling author walked out the front door following after the ugliest dog Will had ever seen.

  Jack glanced over, lifted a hand in greeting, then headed in their direction. He stopped in front of them and shook hands. “How are you, Hank?”

  “Better. Best shape of my life according to my daughter.” He bent to pet the dog’s homely, hairy head. “What kind of dog is this?”

  “Chinese crested. Harley, say hello.” He grinned when the dog barked.

  Will stared at the skinny creature that was hairless, except for his head, tail and paws. “Seems...good-natured.”

  Jack met his gaze and there was something just shy of warning in his dark eyes. “That’s like telling a woman she has a good personality. I know he’s not the handsomest canine in the kennel, but he picked me out. And I wasn’t even looking for a dog.” Harley took off. “We’re finished being neighborly. Gotta go.”

  “The writer doesn’t waste words.” His dad watched Jack follow his dog around the lake.

  “I guess you’ve met him before,” Will said.

  “Yeah. In town. Never met the dog, though.” He shook his head. “Let’s go fishing.”

  They walked up a couple of steps and into the marina store. Brewster Smith was putting Summer Clearance signs on the racks of T-shirts, tank tops, bathing suits and lightweight jackets. Will didn’t much appreciate the reminder that summer was quickly coming to an end.

  It meant saying goodbye to April and he was nowhere near ready to do that. She was sunlight and magic and heat. Chicago winter was gray and dark and cold. Who wouldn’t want to stay here longer?

  “How are you, Brew?” Hank greeted the other man.

  “Dandy, thanks. You’re looking fit as a dang fiddle.” He checked Hank out from head to toe. “Recuperation agrees with you.”

  “That it does.”

  “How you doin’, Sheriff?”

  Will shrugged. “Can’t complain.”

  “How’s that nephew of yours?”

  “He’s a great kid.” Thanks to everyone but him, Will thought, because he’d been career focused. “Kim’s done an amazing job with him. And she couldn’t have done it without Dad.”

  Hank nodded. “I wouldn’t have chosen this path for her, but I couldn’t be prouder of the way she handled a difficult situation. And she gave me my grandson.”

  “Now she’s getting married. The years sure have gone by fast.” Brew shook his head in amazement. “How’s the weddin’ stuff coming along?”

  “Good,” Will answered. “I guess.”

  Hank laughed. “If you spent more time at the house instead of escaping to April’s every night, you’d know for sure that all is well. And you’re her man of honor.” Before Brewster could ask, he added, “That’s like a maid of honor except a man is doing the honor stuff.”

  Brewster rubbed a hand across the full beard on his chin. “I’m not sure what to say about that except that you’ll look fetching in the dress.”

  “Very funny.” Will was glad he’d picked that to comment on and not his relationship with April. He didn’t want to put a finer point on what was going on with them.

  “I’m a regular comedian.” Brew grinned. “So you’re spendin’ a lot of time with our favorite photographer?”

  So much for dodging the subject. “We’re friends.”

  “Hmm.” The older man looked at his dad. “You buying that?”

  “I stay out of things unless invited in,” Hank said.

  “Fair enough.” The other man looked from one to the other. “What can I do for you fellas today?”

  “Going fishing,” Hank said. “We need to rent equipment and a rowboat.”

  “How come you don’t have your own?” Brewster asked.

  “Never had time. Now I’m recuperating.” He looked at Will. “We need two rods, tackle, lures and the whole nine yards. And that rowboat. I’ll handle the oars. It’s part of my cardiac rehab.”

  “Good,” Will said.

  “Okay, then.”

  Brewster gathered a couple of fishing rods and a tackle box with everything they’d need, then wrote up a receipt and took Will’s credit card for all charges. They carried everything to the slip on the dock where the boat was tied up and his dad rowed them out of the marina and to a place not far away that most tourists didn’t know about. Cutter’s Cove was a locals’ secret and shared only with a trusted few out-of-towners. Hank stopped and stowed the oars, then each of them took a rod and got it ready. In a few minutes they’d dropped their lines, then sat in companionable silence.

  Will adjusted the baseball cap he wore and looked up at the blue sky. Not a single cloud to break up the expanse—only the mountain peaks did that. The surface of the water was like blue glass while birds chirped and called overhead and from trees on the shore. He let out a breath and with it went a whole lot of accumulated tension.

  “This was a great idea, Dad.”

  “Thought you could use it, son.” Hank reeled in his line, then cast it out again in an easy, experienced single movement of his wrist.

  “Yeah. I’ve missed this.”

  “How’s the job going?”

  “Good, I’d say. Why?” He looked at his dad. “Are people complaining about me and begging you to come back?”

  “No.” He laughed. “It’s just you haven’t said much. I’m feeling a little guilty for pulling you away from big city detective work. Do you miss it?”

  Did he? Will hadn’t really thought about it. His time and energy had gone into taking care of Blackwater Lake and...

  April.

  “It’s not a good sign when that much time goes by without an answer.”

  Will looked at his father, who was also wearing a baseball hat and aviator sunglasses. Even with all his detective experience he couldn’t tell what this man was thinking. And he didn’t know how he felt, but his dad hadn’t asked him to compare and contrast his job in Chicago with the one here in Blackwater Lake. So he’d decided to focus on how the current assignment was going instead of whether or not he missed his job in Chicago.

  “I helped two teenagers see the error of their ways,” he started. “Caught them in the act of egging a car and they pretty much admitted spray painting barns because they were bored.”

  “Yeah. Heard that before.”

  “I bet you have.” Will grinned. “The cool thing is that I got their confession while making them clean up their mess.”

  “Very badass of you, son.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” Will chuckled, then his amusement disappeared as he thought about what might have happened in CPD jurisdiction. His dad hadn’t asked him to compare and contrast, but he did automatically. “I didn’t have to arrest those kids and start a paper trail that could follow them for a long time. There were no loop
holes in the law or plea deals with a prosecutor that put dangerous people back on the street who should stay locked up.”

  “We’re not talking Blackwater Lake now, are we?”

  Will sighed, but all he said was, “Justice and punishment aren’t so swift and tidy in Chicago. Here I made a difference on a basic level. I made a positive difference in two lives and didn’t have to jail a couple of juveniles and put them in the system. That carries a lot of satisfaction for me. I called their parents and something tells me that will be enough.”

  Hank nodded thoughtfully. “If they reoffend, you won’t know. You’ll be back in Chicago.”

  He waited to feel the thrill of excitement at the thought of going back, but it never came. Without much enthusiasm he said, “Yeah.”

  Hank set his fishing rod in the bottom of the rowboat and braced it against the side, then reached into their rented cooler filled with ice and pulled out two cold bottles of water. He handed one to Will.

  “Is it possible that you’re experiencing job burnout?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Will liked being a detective. Putting forensic evidence together with witness statements and interviews to come to a conclusion and take a bad guy off the street. It was a satisfying career. At least it had been. But since coming back home, he’d seen that there were holes in his life, gaps that he’d been successfully able to ignore for a long time.

  An image came to mind of the pleasure on April’s face when he was buried deep inside her. Her beautiful dark hair spread over the rose-print pillow case. Their naked bodies pressed together, becoming one. It was going to be hard to walk away from her. And he’d seen for himself how people cared about their favorite photographer. In the end, she would dump him and avoid the town pity party. But in Chicago, no one would give a damn that he’d been publicly put in his place. He opened the bottle and took a long, cold drink.

  “The thing is, son, that heart problem I had made me realize a lot of things.”