by Katie Ruggle
Instead of annoying her, she found the mild scolding amusing, and she gave him an apologetic wave as she straightened the wheel slightly. It must’ve been acceptable to Mr. Tall, Hairy, and Exacting, because he gave a slight nod.
“Now continue backing for four feet and eleven inches.”
Four feet and eleven inches, Kit repeated in her head with a mental eye roll as she eased the trailer back. The extreme micromanagement struck her as funny, but she held back her laughter. The man seemed so earnest, and she didn’t want him to think she was making fun of him. He was being nice enough to help her out, after all.
“Stop!”
Startled by his shout, she slammed on the brake. Adrenaline was rushing through her again as Kit leaned out the window, frantically trying to see behind the trailer. “What? Was I going to hit something?”
“No.” He turned his puzzled gaze to hers. “You were about to go too far.”
She stared at him, annoyed by the remaining anxiety threading through her body. “Did I actually go five feet instead?” Immediately, she felt bad for mocking him, especially when he gave her such a warm smile in return.
“No. You’re perfect.” Above the top edges of his beard, his cheeks darkened as he cleared his throat and looked away. “Perfectly positioned, I mean.”
“Of course.” A hundred teasing responses rose in her head, but she restrained herself and just stayed silent, waiting for the next instruction.
Staring at the snow-covered road, he rubbed at the back of his neck, and Kit had a feeling he was flustered. By her. That was a novel experience. Even as a kid, she’d always been considered one of the guys. It was rare that she induced speechlessness in a man—especially one as gorgeous as this one—and she was reluctantly flattered by his reaction.
Then her gaze moved to the dashboard clock, and the time made her stomach sink. She was going to be so horrendously late. “What’s next?” Her voice was too loud, making him glance at her, startled.
“Right.” He took a deep breath, the air expanding his broad chest even more, and he looked between the trailer and her SUV, his gaze calculating. “Straighten the wheel, and reverse another three feet, two inches.”
Kit eased up on the brake and allowed the SUV to back up. Prepared this time, his urgent “Stop!” didn’t startle her.
“Turn the wheel six degrees to the right.”
Kit was quite impressed with her self-control, since she managed to keep a straight face throughout the process, even when his extremely specific directions included half inches. But even she had to admit that his math-inspired technique worked. The trailer ended up in a perfect spot: right next to the walkway and leaving just enough room on the other side for her to park her SUV once she got home. Setting the parking brake, she hopped out and went back to unhitch the trailer, but the stranger was already on it.
Kit dug a good-sized rock that was bordering the walkway out of the snow and wedged it behind one of the tires as a wheel chock. As she straightened, she noticed the man eyeing her with approval. She flushed, thinking that he’d been focused on her bent-over backside, but he gestured at the rock, instead.
“Good idea,” he said, and she felt stupidly disappointed that he hadn’t been admiring her rear end—and then she felt silly for being so shallow.
“Thank you.” She reached out to shake his hand. There was a pause where she wondered if he was going to accept the gesture, and then he took off his right glove and clasped her hand in his. It was warm and pleasantly rough, and his huge hand completely swallowed hers. That enveloping hold made her feel disconcertingly small, and she hurried to speak to distract herself. “This would’ve taken longer without your help.”
“Yes.” Now that he had her hand, he wasn’t releasing it, and things started to feel awkward again. “A lot longer.”
Once again, Kit wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused, but she settled on amusement. After all, the man wasn’t wrong. Letting out a huff of laughter, she gently tugged her hand back. “I’m Kit Jernigan.”
Finally releasing his grip, he gave a small nod but remained quiet rather than give his name.
With another small laugh, Kit headed back to the driver’s seat of her SUV. The guy had just saved her a bunch of time and aggravation. The least she could do, she figured, was let him keep his anonymity. She’d return to cop-mode soon enough.
Opening the car door, she looked over her shoulder at her new friendly neighborhood Bigfoot, who was still standing where she’d left him. “Well, I hate to math and run, but I’m already late for my first day at my new job. Thank you again, though.”
With another short lift of his chin, he watched as she pulled out of the driveway and turned away from his pickup. Before she reached the next intersection, she couldn’t resist another glance in the rearview mirror. He’d moved next to his truck, but he was still watching her, and Kit jerked her gaze back to the road.
“What an interesting guy…whoever he is.” She realized that she was smiling. “Just between us, Justice, I kind of like him—even if he is too pretty for his own good.” The dog, who’d been snoozing for most of the trailer-parking process, opened his eyes and thumped his tail against the seat in what Kit took as agreement.
Blowing out a hard breath, Kit focused on getting back to the police station. It was still her first day at a new job in a strange town, but her encounter with the nameless Good Samaritan had given her a fizzy sense of hopeful anticipation.
If all her neighbors were as interesting and helpful as her mystery mountain man had been, maybe her new life in Monroe wouldn’t be so terrible after all.
Chapter 2
Someone had blown up the police department.
It was bad enough starting a new job in a strange town, but it was even worse to find a charred shell where the department was supposed to be. Kit glanced at the printout of the most recent email from her new chief, but the address listed hadn’t changed from the last time she’d been there: 101 Pickard Street, Monroe, Colorado. It was the same as what was printed on the Monroe Police Department sign—the sign directing her into the empty parking lot butted up against the blackened skeleton that, not too long ago, had been a functioning police station. Just a few months earlier, she’d been interviewed in there. It was surreal to see the burnt wreck it was now.
Justice whined from the back seat, and she reached back to pet his silky, floppy ears. “I know, buddy. As soon as I find what’s going on, we can finally get out of this car.”
Pulling away from the curb, Kit headed back toward the town’s main street. There had been a half-hearted effort made to plow, but several inches of packed snow still covered the roads, making her grateful for her SUV’s all-wheel drive. She slowly headed toward downtown, figuring that Monroe was small enough that any random townsperson would know where the police department had moved. She just needed to find that person.
Like everyone else in the country, she’d heard the news about the drug lord’s attack on this tiny mountain town just a few weeks ago, but she was shocked by the extent of the damage. She’d interviewed with the Monroe police chief over three months ago, when the tiny town was still intact and bustling with tourists. Monroe had seemed like a perfect escape then, with quaint shops lining downtown and quiet streets dotted with cedar-sided cabins. Set in a valley and surrounded by snow-peaked mountains with bright yellow aspen trees scattered over the slopes, the town could’ve been used as a movie set.
Now, as she drove slowly through that same downtown, the difference was shocking.
The general store was gone, as was the diner, both just blackened holes in the line of shops. Most of the other places had closed signs in the windows, and the streets and sidewalks were empty. It still looked like a movie set, just one with a post-apocalyptic plotline now—probably involving zombies.
Despite the cold, Kit rolled down her window several inches s
o she could hear what was going on outside her car. It was a habit she’d developed while patrolling, and now, even though she wasn’t technically on duty, she felt uneasy with the windows up. The silence was eerie.
The town was too quiet for seven on a weekday morning. People should’ve been heading to work and getting their kids to school, but there was no one in sight. The only sound was her SUV engine and the crunch of snow under her tires.
As she passed a shuttered restaurant, the VFW parking lot came into view, and she sat straighter. A dozen or so cars—including two squad cars—were scattered throughout the lot.
“Look, Justice,” she said, glancing in the rearview mirror to see that the bloodhound was sitting up, ears perked as he looked out the window. “Actual people. I was beginning to think that we’d stumbled into a horror movie.”
She pulled into the lot, backing into a space next to one of the squad cars. A Belgian Malinois in the back stood up and started barking, and Justice’s tail thumped against the seat. He’d never met another dog he didn’t like.
Kit smiled as she got out of her SUV. After driving through the creepy, bombed out town, it was reassuring to see another dog. Being part of the K9 unit was her life—at least, it had been. She didn’t feel so much like the last remaining survivor on earth anymore.
After checking to make sure Justice’s heater was on, she carefully made her way across the snowy, icy lot to the VFW entrance. As she stepped inside, she removed her sunglasses and stayed in the entry for a minute, allowing her eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight reflecting off the snow outside to the dim interior. It smelled like every VFW she’d ever been in—a mixture of musty old building, years of cigarette smoke, and home-style food.
She followed the sounds of chatter and the scent of bacon into a dining area that looked as if it had been converted into some sort of restaurant. Remembering the destroyed diner down the street, she wondered if this was where they’d relocated. Scanning the patrons, her gaze immediately caught on a table with three uniformed cops, and she headed in their direction.
People quieted as she moved through the dining area, weaving between tables, and the cops spotted her quickly. All three were men, and Kit wondered if there were many women on this small-town force. She hoped so. Although she’d been in the minority at her last department, they’d had a great group of female cops. The thought of being one of only a few women in a sea of guys was daunting.
None of the cops watching her were smiling. Automatically, her shoulders drew back and she raised her chin a little, striding confidently to their table. If she was one of a few or—God forbid—the only woman at her new department, it was especially important to show them right off the bat that she could hold her own.
As she got closer, the guys got bigger, and she swallowed a groan. At a few inches over five feet, she was going to be dwarfed by them. She made a mental note to find whatever gym this town had as soon as possible. She might not be able to grow any taller, but she could always get stronger.
By the time she reached the cops’ table, the diner was quiet except for the occasional clink of a coffee mug hitting a saucer and the sizzle of food cooking on the grill in the kitchen. With a mental grimace, she realized that she was going to become the crowd’s morning entertainment. Welcome to small-town life.
“Hi.” She held out her hand to the closest cop, who happened to be the biggest one. “I’m Kit Jernigan. I accepted a job with the Monroe PD. Today’s my first day.”
He studied her for a moment before accepting her outstretched hand. He looked reserved and wary, but not hostile, and Kit took that as a good sign. “Otto Gunnersen.”
Turning to the man sitting next to Otto, she offered her hand again.
This one had a shaved head, and he introduced himself as Hugh Murdoch as they shook hands. He studied her with a slight upward twist of his mouth, and she kept her expression bland, hoping he wouldn’t turn out to be an asshole. Smirking was rarely a sign of a pleasant personality. Not really wanting to hear what smart-ass comment was going to come out of his mouth, she quickly turned to the last cop, the one with dark hair and eyes and a hard cast to his face.
He waited the longest before shaking her hand, but she refused to flinch, just holding his gaze while keeping her hand extended. Finally, he accepted it, giving a firm shake. “Theo Bosco. Have a seat.”
She remained standing, knowing that these three would make her grueling hiring interview seem like friendly chit-chat. “It’s my first day, so I should check in with the chief. I just stopped in to get directions to the police station—the new location.”
“Right across the street,” Hugh said, typing something on his phone as he used his foot to slide out the chair across from him. “Sit. I’ve sent a text to the chief to let him know you’re with us. Roll call’s in a half hour, and Theo and I will be starting our shift then. We’ll show you where to go—well, the two of us will. Otto’s on nights, so he’s done.”
Resigned to her fate, Kit took the chair they offered, and a pretty server hurried over. The other diners had gradually started talking again, and the noise level returned to its earlier volume.
“Good morning. Coffee?” At Kit’s nod, the waitress poured her a cup and then moved to the other side of the table to top off all the others’ mugs. Kit watched as she worked, wondering why the waitress seemed so nervous. Even when she was in uniform, Kit knew her appearance wasn’t intimidating—not like these three burly cops—but the waitress kept giving her anxious glances.
Once everyone’s coffee mug was full, she stopped next to Theo’s chair. When he rested a hand on her lower back, she seemed to relax slightly, giving him a sweet smile before turning back to Kit. “Would you like a menu?”
“Coffee’s fine, thanks.” She gave the server a smile, figuring that would be the end of the conversation, but the woman lingered.
“Are you a reporter? I hate to ask, but everyone is going to harass me all day if I can’t answer their questions about you.” The server’s words were rushed and thick with a Southern drawl. Her nerves were obvious, even if her fingers hadn’t been clamped so tightly around the coffee pot’s handle that her knuckles had turned white. “Most of the news crews left last week, but we don’t see many other strangers around here, especially now.” Her laugh was quick and jittery. “Monroe isn’t really a tourist destination at the moment.”
Theo gave Kit a look she couldn’t interpret before turning to the waitress. “Jules,” he said soothingly, rubbing her back in small circles, “she’s not a reporter.”
“The newspeople were everywhere last week,” Hugh explained to Kit. “Like a plague of camera-toting locusts. I couldn’t go anywhere without having a microphone jammed in my face and some well-coiffed journalist demanding to know how I felt about the town exploding. It was like twenty-four-hour mandatory counseling.”
Otto grunted in what sounded like agreement, but Theo raised his eyebrows. “Well-coiffed?”
“What?” Leaning back in his chair, Hugh gave a slight, pained wince. It was so quick that Kit wondered if she’d imagined it. “Are you mocking my excellent vocabulary?”
“Yes.” Even though he was looking at Hugh, Theo continued rubbing Jules’s back.
When Hugh started to respond, Otto cleared his throat gently.
“Right,” Hugh said. “Back on track. Jules, meet Monroe’s newest K9 officer, Kit Jernigan.”
Jules jerked slightly, and Kit was pretty sure she would’ve taken a step back if Theo’s hand hadn’t been there. Kit studied the woman carefully, wondering why that information had scared the waitress. If appearances were correct, Jules was dating Theo and was friends with the other two, so the presence of one more cop shouldn’t have been frightening. For some reason, though, it was. Although she tried to hide it, Jules was visibly nervous.
“Nice to meet you.” Kit tried to keep her tone low-key and friendl
y, but Jules still looked like she thought Kit was about to leap out of her chair and grab her.
“Hi.” Jules attempted a smile, but it trembled at the edges before collapsing completely. “Welcome to Monroe—what’s left of it, at least.” She turned her head, glancing behind her. “I’d better get back to work.”
As she started to move away, Theo caught the hand not clutching the coffeepot. “Jules.”
She smiled at him, but gently slipped free and headed for the kitchen. Theo watched her go before turning back to Kit. He didn’t look happy. “Where are you from?” he demanded.
She had been expecting this. “Gold Mill, Wisconsin.”
“PD or county?”
“Police.”
“How long?”
“Eight years.”
“All with the same department?”
“Yes.”
“Why’d you leave?”
For the first time in their rapid-fire exchange, Kit hesitated. After numerous interviews, she should’ve been used to the question, but it still managed to throw her off guard, kicking up the same cloud of bitterness and grief it always did. It took a few seconds before she recovered enough to pull out her stock answer. “There was an incident that created some bad feelings. It was time for a fresh start.”
From the look on Theo’s face, he’d noticed her hesitation, and Kit knew the topic would come up again. Next time, he wouldn’t let her get by on vague generalities. “Why here?”
“Gold Mill has about eighty thousand people and a huge opioid problem. After dealing with that for eight years, I was…tired.” She almost laughed at the understatement. “When I interviewed with the chief in early September, Monroe seemed like a nice place, a peaceful place, somewhere I could be part of the community that I served. Plus, I like snowboarding, and it’s much more fun here than the tiny hills we consider ski resorts in the Midwest.” She attempted a smile at the last bit, but none of the other three returned it, so it quickly faded.