She's The Sheriff (Superromance Series No 787)

by Duquette, Anne Marie

  “Of course I would, but I have Oscar with me, remember?” Oscar, her brown dachshund, was wellbehaved, but in the Arizona desert heat she could hardly leave him alone in the car. The daytime temperature outside was in the high nineties and above. Even with the windows partially rolled down, the car would be stifling, dangerous for a dog. And the only way the airport would admit Oscar was in his travel kennel, a bulky affair. “Besides, I’d rather stay in the car in case I get followed.”

  “Not that madman! Desiree, you call the police in the morning! Tell them you want an escort to the airport. Promise me!”

  Law and order was the family business, so to speak. Their mother was a judge, their father a high-ranking cop. Desiree had followed in his footsteps before becoming a lawyer, and older sister Caro held a doctorate in criminal forensics.

  Caro tended to worry about her younger sister. Usually Desiree shrugged off her concern. Not this time.

  Former police academy valedictorian and police officer, then a lawyer with the district attorney’s office, Desiree Hartlan had “disgraced” herself. Her present troubles had started off with the rape of a friend. Desiree had personally prosecuted Albert Jondell, the man who’d beaten and raped her next-door neighbor in her own bedroom. Desiree herself had discovered Linda Elby battered and near death from shock.

  Arizona still considered itself an Old West state, where men respected and protected their women. The population had been appalled. Rapes were for big cities in California and New York, not Arizona. It looked bad for the accused, despite his denials, since the evidence, including shreds of his skin under Linda’s fingernails, would have sent him to prison for an extended term. Thanks to Mrs. Jondell’s expensive lawyer, however, and a legal loophole, the suspect was set free before the case ever came to court.

  The press had a field day with “this outrageous flouting of the justice system.” Linda’s family and Desiree weren’t merely outraged, they were fighting mad. The Elbys’ reaction was nothing like Desiree’s. They were simply furious. Desiree vowed to take matters into her own hands, vowed to see that her battered friend received justice. Against police procedural rules, against her lawyer’s vow of confidentiality, Desiree did exactly that. She called a press conference and made certain that the media, especially the television stations, found out about the DNA tests. She even handed out copies of the medical reports instead of citing an “anonymous.leak.” The story hit the papers with a huge splash, causing dreadful repercussions for all parties concerned.

  Linda and Desiree found themselves the target of every cheap tabloid around, all offering them money for an exclusive.

  Desiree told the tabloids she’d made her statement to the “respectable press” and had no further comment. Linda, traumatized by the attack and overstressed by reporters and photographers, buckled under the pressure. Her parents had flown in to take her back east for a vacation from the tabloids and from her job, writing a syndicated column entitled “Wisdom for Women.” The three never made it to the airport. The morning of their planned departure, they found Linda in her hotel-room closet, huddled in a little ball, sucking her thumb. She was admitted to a treatment center in Sedona, which promised psychotherapy, privacy and no press, the latter guaranteed by armed security guards. Linda’s supposed disappearance provided even more fodder for the tabloids.

  Mrs. Jondell vowed revenge for the loss of her family’s good name and filed a lawsuit against the D.A.’s office. The district attorney’s office immediately fired Desiree for “conduct unbecoming a public official.” The suspect’s wife then filed suit against Desiree personally. Desiree had expected her termination notice. In fact, she’d already cleared out her desk in advance. She fully accepted the price she’d known she would pay for her actions.

  But there was more. Mrs. Jondell petitioned the Arizona State Bar Association to rescind Desiree’s license to practice law. Jondell lost his job, as well, since a company employing an accused rapist quickly lost business. Jondell’s lawyer had filed a temporary injunction, and he was allowed to return to work. However, the verbal antagonism of his co-workers escalated into physical violence. Management looked the other way. Jondell wisely took their advice of an unpaid leave of absence. After that, he concentrated on his legal fight against the D.A.’s office.

  Even with Linda out of reach, the media still found plenty to report on the case, shifting their focus to “the lawyer versus the suspect.”

  Desiree Hartlan, age thirty-five, became an overnight sensation, a surefire newspaper seller. Albert Jondell, the guilty-as-hell man who’d been set free, vowed dire consequences for the D.A.’s office. Desiree’s family took that to mean Desiree herself. Caro wasn’t the only one worried for her sister’s safety; Desiree was a bit nervous herself.

  “Now, don’t get all riled up, Caro. I’m an ex-cop, remember?” Desiree had protested the night before. “I don’t need to call the police to protect me from the press.”

  “As long as it’s just the press and not that maniac.”

  “Caro, he wouldn’t be that stupid. Reporters would. And I can handle them.”

  “I hope they don’t follow you down here,” her sister said, obviously not reassured.

  Desiree sighed. “You and me both. I’m sure Virgil and Travis don’t need cameras in their faces any more than I do. Especially if Travis is sick. I’d rather your daughter didn’t catch whatever he’s got.”

  “Cat doesn’t stay long enough in one place for that.” Desiree could almost see Caro’s smile over the phone. “Don’t worry about her. Worry about yourself.”

  “That’s why I intend to stay in the car.”

  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I will. I have the cell phone. I’ll keep circling and pick the guys up at the curb. Oh, and, Caro?”

  “Yes?”

  “Save me some dessert. Pie’s good. Cake is better. And I never turn my nose up at chocolate.” Caro’s chuckle was Desiree’s reward.

  “You and your sweet tooth. Bye, Ray.”

  That had been late last night. Early this morning Desiree had left her apartment for good, with her luggage and dog in tow. She’d already stored her furniture and arranged for a moving van to take it to Tombstone as soon as she found an apartment or a small house in town. Everything had gone smoothly until now. Where were Virgil and his son? The dog panted and whined. Desiree’s hand reached over to the passenger seat to stroke the silky brown head.

  “Sorry, Oscar, but I can’t get you a drink here. And the air conditioner’s already on high.” She squinted, searching the crowded curbside for any sign of Virgil or Travis—or men and women with cameras. The motor-driven still cameras with their huge lenses were easy to spot, but those miniature video cameras with the computerized zooms—the ones used by the television tabloid shows—were harder to see. She caught a glimpse of someone familiar and slowed her circling car.

  “Finally!” Thank goodness Virgil looked like his brothers, over six feet, with blond-brown hair and steel blue eyes. He was easy to pick out of a crowd— and then some. His clothes were precision cut to fit his lean, well-proportioned body, and his rugged, chiseled face was the kind women noticed. The strap of a black leather carryall was slung over his broad shoulders, leaving his arms free to hold his sleeping son.

  Desiree steered around a few cars, darted into an opening at the curb and beeped her horn. Virgil didn’t see her. She touched the electric window button, put her car in park and yelled his name.

  “Virgil! Over here!”

  He glanced up and nodded, then made his way through the crowds to her car. Desiree hopped out, opened the trunk and took the luggage from him, stealing a fond glance at the rarely seen child in his arms. Travis might be young, but he was no light burden. Like his father, the boy was tall. His athletic shoes were almost as large as Virgil’s Italian loafers.

  “Hello, Virgil.” She gave him a quick, welcoming kiss on the cheek. “Is everything okay? I was worried when you were late.” Des
iree finished stowing the luggage, then closed the trunk.

  “The flight was way behind schedule. And I didn’t recognize the car. New, isn’t it?”

  “New since the last time you saw me.” Actually, it was three years old. And paid for, thank goodness. She opened the back door and arranged a pillow for Travis. “We’ve got to stop meeting this way—holidays and weddings.”

  “And airports. Thanks for picking me up. I wasn’t looking forward to riding in some overpriced, smoky taxi.”

  “No problem. You and Travis are family.” Caro had fallen in love with her in-laws soon after falling in love with Wyatt. The Bodine men returned her feelings; Wyatt and Morgan included Desiree in their hearts, too. Virgil was friendly to her whenever they met—which wasn’t often. But he was Caro’s brother-in-law. “Go ahead and settle Travis. Move, Oscar!” she commanded.

  “Hey, Oscar.” The dog, who’d jumped into the back seat—obviously to get closer to Virgil—wagged his tail in delight. He’d always gone gaga over the three Bodine brothers. “You’ve grown.”

  “Tell me about it. The shelter told me he was a miniature, but...” Desiree gestured toward the solid brown body, definitely that of a standard-size dachshund. “He’s not the only one who’s grown. Just look at Travis! I wouldn’t recognize him from the last photos Caro sent.”

  “That’s because he isn’t smiling right now.”

  “Caro said he wasn’t feeling well. Not the flu, I hope. Come on, Oscar.” Desiree patted the front seat.

  Oscar hopped into the front, and Virgil laid Travis down in the back. “His surfing group had a farewell beach picnic for him last night.”

  “He was up late, then?”

  Virgil nodded. “And today he was airsick. He’s usually a good traveler, but the flight was hell over the mountains. Half the passengers were turning green, Travis included. I’m sure all those cupcakes and hot dogs yesterday didn’t help.”

  “Poor kid.” Desiree watched him carefully fasten the seat belt around the sleeping boy, then stroke his auburn hair. “I hope the car ride doesn’t make things worse.” Desiree removed the boy’s sneakers.

  “He’ll be okay. A good night’s sleep, some fresh air and home-cooked food will have Travis back to his old self again.” Virgil gently touched his son’s shoulder one last time before turning his attention to the alert dog up front. “Where are you riding, pooch?”

  Oscar enthusiastically wagged his tail.

  “In the back,” Desiree stated firmly. “He’ll settle down on the floor once we’re under way. Oscar, get in back. Go on, now.” She shooed the dog, and though he obeyed, he immediately curled up on the seat next to Travis.

  “Oscar... get down.”

  “Leave him be,” Virgil said. “They got along fine last visit, and your dog has a long memory.”

  She nodded. A few minutes later they were back in traffic. Desiree continued to check the rearview mirror periodically as she drove.

  “Problems?” Virgil asked.

  He’s just like Morgan and Wyatt, she thought. He doesn’t miss a thing. “No, but I intend to make sure the media’s not sniffing around.”

  “I became yesterday’s news once I left Hollywood. If they’re out, they’re after you, not me.”

  Nope, doesn’t miss much at all. “So you know about my little...escapade.”

  “Read, seen, heard.” He positioned his long legs more comfortably and swiveled her way. “How’s your friend?”

  “Not good.” How did you deal with a man so infuriated over the fact that Linda took “his” parking spot outside a grocery store that he followed her home, beat her to a pulp and raped her as punishment? It was a sick world out there. And now poor Linda... “It’s going to take time.”

  “What a shame.” Virgil’s lips thinned. Desiree was relieved that she wouldn’t have to listen to any platitudes or tsk-tsks.

  “And you?” he asked. “How are you doing?”

  She was surprised at his question. “Me?”

  “You lost your job.”

  “Don’t forget the lawsuit,” she added lightly. She glanced out the rearview mirror one last time, then decided it was safe enough to head for the airport exit and southbound to Interstate 17.

  “I read the Jondells want the state bar to withdraw your license to practice, too.”

  “So they say.”

  “What do you say?” Virgil asked.

  “My license can’t be worth very much if I have to bend the rules to see justice served.”

  “Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. “Let’s not forget breaking confidentiality, using the press for your own ends, ruining a released man’s reputation and getting him fired from his job.”

  Desiree stiffened. “You disapprove?”

  “Personally, I can understand your motives. Professionally, I don’t agree with your actions. This state has its laws. Lynchings belong in the history books, not in modern cities. This isn’t the Wild West. You should have...reconsidered your actions.”

  “You know something, Mr. Bodine? You’re absolutely right. I should have killed that bastard instead.” Her vehemence made her voice sharper, louder than usual.

  Travis stirred. “Daddy?”

  Virgil turned to glance back at his son. “It’s okay, Trav. Go back to sleep.” At his father’s voice, Travis relaxed again, and Virgil focused his attention on Desiree once more.

  “I’m afraid not everyone shares your point of view.”

  “They would if it was their child. Or their mother or wife. Their sister. Their friend.” Desiree felt her throat tighten again and wondered when—if—Linda would ever regain some sense of normalcy in her life. Time for safer subjects, she decided. She forced herself to calm down for the drive to Tombstone, wishing he’d found another way home—like a helicopter.

  She took in his expensive shoes, silk suit, tie, shirt and perfectly cut hair. He could afford it. She sighed. Oh, well. I’ll have to be as tactful as possible.

  “Virgil, your brother is married to my sister. I like your family, and I like you. But, please, allow me to be blunt. Skip the psychobabble. I’m not in the mood for any Tinseltown morality.”

  “I’m a native, not a Californian.”

  “You don’t sound like one.” Or look like one anymore, that’s for sure. Absorbent, easily washable denim, linen and cotton—not silk—were the summer fabrics of choice in the desert.

  “I am inside. That’s what counts.” Desiree didn’t miss the slight edge to his voice.

  “Then, please, Virgil, save the sermons. I don’t want to sound rude, but I’ve had enough lectures the last few weeks to last me a lifetime.” She slid one of her favorite Whitney Houston tapes into the player, keeping the volume low because of Travis.

  After the first few songs, Virgil lowered the volume even more. “Sony. It’s been a long day. I’m not a very patient traveler.”

  “I’m not very patient, period,” she admitted.

  A hint of a smile touched his lips.

  He’s a real knockout when he smiles. For a smile like that, I’ll even call a truce. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “We’ll all be home soon.”

  “Lord, I can’t wait.” Virgil pulled off his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. The jacket followed. Desiree watched him toss the tie behind him, then carefully lean across the back of the seat to spread his jacket over Travis.

  “Watch out for dog hair,” she warned.

  “I’m done with suits. I’m trading them in for jeans. You, too?”

  “Not exactly.” Desiree turned off the tape player and fiddled with the radio. “I’m trading in my courtroom blacks for a uniform.”

  “A uniform?” Was it her imagination, or did he actually sound shocked?

  “I may be suspended from practicing law, but I can still carry a gun and a badge.”

  “Aren’t you a bit...old to start at the bottom of the law enforcement ladder again?”

  Other women might have bristled at the implied insul
t, but her work had long made her immune to most criticism. “I’m thirty-five, and who said anything about going to the bottom of the ladder? I intend to start right at the top.”

  “Top of what?”

  “You’re looking at the future sheriff of Tombstone, Cochise County, Arizona.”

  “Sheriff? You?”

  “Yep, me.” Desiree flicked him a quick glance. You sound like you have a problem with that.

  His next words confirmed her suspicion. “How many years has it been since you graduated from the academy?”

  Desiree shrugged. “Long enough.”

  “Let me ask you this. How many years were you actually in uniform before you entered law school?”

  “Almost one.”

  “Almost one?” Virgil paused. “You don’t have enough police experience to act as sheriff.”

  That comment did make her bristle. “My law degree, my courtroom experience and my work in the D.A.’s office have given me a unique knowledge of criminals and the law.”

  “But not of enforcing the law. Not in Tombstone.”

  “Let me remind you that the sheriff of Tombstone is an elected position. I’ve already filed the paperwork, and your brothers have let me use the Silver Dollar as my address since this whole mess started. So, I’m a legal resident and have been for some time. I’m officially on the ballot. The job’s as good as mine.”

  Desiree saw Virgil relax in his seat again. “We Bodine men have held the position of sheriff since I first won the election twenty years ago.”

  She chose her next words carefully. “You don’t think a woman can beat a man in this race?”

  “I didn’t say that. I will say you don’t have a hope in hell of beating any Bodine. Wyatt might as well leave his nameplate on his desk.”

  “Who said anything about running against Wyatt?”

  “Wyatt isn’t running?”

  “No, he’s not.” Now, that had the self-contained Virgil off keel.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Trust me, Virgil, he’s not running for another term.”

  “Why not?” Virgil demanded.