“I WAS LOOKING for a shovel in the shed,” Gary explained. “And found this rifle under a table. When I heard a vehicle drive up, I thought it was Oscar returning.”
Leann didn’t move, just waited. Her hand, the one holding the gun, didn’t flinch.
Gary carefully set the rifle on the ground and nudged it away with his foot. His eyes never left hers but his lips were tipping up in a half grin even as he put his hands in the air. Finally, he stepped back, and she sighed in relief—not aloud, though, because she didn’t want to appear weak in front of him. She looked down at the rifle and whistled before stepping closer.
“That’s a Yellowboy.”
“It was too dark inside to tell much of anything,” Gary said.
“Any other weapons in the shed?” she queried.
“I haven’t had a chance to look. I just set up this morning.”
She glanced over at the camper, its door wide open. One chair, with a small table and ice cooler next to it, was on the outdoor carpet in front. There wasn’t a lived-in look. There was, however, already a temporary, desolate look.
“Which is probably why I caught the trespassing call just an hour ago,” she said more to herself than him.
Gary raised an eyebrow. “Someone called me in as a trespasser?”
“Your nearest neighbor, Russell Blackgoat. You probably need to head on up and introduce yourself. He’s lived here all his life and keeps a good eye on things in this area.”
She watched as Gary turned his head to the west, at the telltale smoke of a distant chimney. He’d known which way to look, so he’d already scoped out the area.
“Why didn’t he call Aunt Bianca before calling the police?”
“Because he really thought you were a thief, or worse, and didn’t want her to come out here to investigate.”
Gary had the good sense to nod and get rid of the grin.
“So, what are you doing here?” Leann asked.
As if answering, Wilma barked and came bounding out of the woods and straight to Leann.
“As you well know, I’ve got two dogs right now,” Gary explained. “When Oscar leaves on his second honeymoon, I’m watching Peeve, which will make it three. Aunt Bianca runs a bed-and-breakfast, not a kennel-and-kibble. Three meant I needed to temporarily relocate. Plus, I’ve always wanted to flip a house, and, well, Bianca has one that needs flipping.”
“Makes sense.” Leann holstered her gun, bent to give Wilma a brief but vigorous rubbing. “Apparently I spent some time here as a child. I’m trying to remember.”
Leann looked back at the cabin and imagined its potential. “This is a great place. I’m surprised that Bianca hasn’t done something with it. I’ve been out here twice, thanks to Russell. Both times I had to get partying kids off the property.”
“It is the middle of nowhere,” Gary said. “Peaceful.”
Gary had such a conflicted expression on his face as he studied the leaning porch beams that Leann couldn’t keep from smiling. Somehow, when looking at him, peaceful wasn’t an adjective that seemed to belong to him. She thought about their first meeting at the park: not peaceful. Then, she thought about him dealing with Goober’s owner: not peaceful. Maybe their meeting at the courthouse qualified as peaceful for him, but not her.
She took a breath, noting the heady scent of trees, grass and more. The wind sent a stray strand of hair fluttering against her cheek. Relaxing, she began, “So, Bianca thinks you have skill enough to hire you to transform this?”
“Hire me? Not really. More like I’m earning my keep.”
“Chief dog master and renovator.”
“Among other things.” Gary reverently picked up the rifle from the ground and looked at it. “You called it a Yellowboy?”
“Now that I think about it, it’s probably a replica.”
“Can you tell the difference?” His right hand went near the trigger, not on it. She noted the confident way he stood, how strong he appeared. The weapon was pointed down with the butt close to his shoulder.
“The replicas,” she informed him, “have a half-cock safety notch on the hammer.”
She took the rifle, her fingers briefly touching his, noting again how physically aware she was of his proximity, and turned it round and round in her hand, touching the loading gate and the yellow receiver, studying the hammer.
“No, not a replica.” She stepped closer to him, telling herself he was just Oscar’s brother, holding the rifle so the top of the barrel was easily visible. “It has all the basic markings. Should be worth some money if it works and you don’t botch the cleanup.”
“You speak German and know antique guns. You just might be the perfect girl.”
“Woman,” she corrected before she had time to blush.
“Woman,” he amended.
She handed him the gun. “Check the shed for more firearms. Last thing we need is some fool—” she looked him up and down “—finding the weapons and possibly shooting himself.”
“I don’t fool around...” he paused, looking at her and added with emphasis “...with guns.”
She wanted to argue, but believed he was right. Sometimes it felt like everyone was better at shooting a gun than her. She already knew that Gary had been military police and more, meaning she needed to admit, “You probably, no definitely, can handle a gun better than me. I keep barely passing every time I have to qualify for marksmanship—with modern weaponry.”
“No one’s great at everything.”
Nice. But his words didn’t make her feel any better.
He looked down at the gun in his hand and repeated, “So, how do you know so much about guns?”
“I watch Pawn Stars.”
“And you remembered everything from one episode just in case you ever ran into an ex-soldier and needed to identify a rifle he’d just found?”
She shrugged. “When my ex-husband and I were in Germany, we lived next to a man who owned one of these. Hans had inherited it from his great-grandfather who’d been a soldier in the Russian-Turkish War.”
The fatigue of working a twelve-hour shift had to be affecting her because Leann felt a smile curling as she thought about those long-ago days. Learning so much about history had been fascinating and made her wonder if she should have pursued it. Was it too late to do something for herself? At the time, she’d been desperate to find anything that she and Ryan could do together, some hobby they could share.
“Ryan,” Leann said, realizing she’d just been standing there, dazed, while Gary looked at her concerned, “and I learned so much from him. He taught me how to clean and assemble quite a few types of guns.”
Something she didn’t share with Gary was that the gentleman had taught her how to cook and bake, as well. Her childhood hadn’t involved a stove, making a bed or even doing her own laundry. She’d been overwhelmed that first year. Hans had been an answer to a prayer.
“Hans sounds like a person I’d like to know.”
“He’s a true gentleman.” She almost added that true gentlemen were rare, but something in Gary’s expression stopped her. Some other emotion had manifested in his eyes. She couldn’t quite describe it, though it drew her to him.
Moments ticked by. She tried desperately to think of something to say, something that didn’t sound lame or was boring procedural work stuff.
Gary, however, spoke first. “Best way to protect the town and its good people is searching the shed with me. There might be other weapons. You wouldn’t want me to find anything I couldn’t handle.”
“I doubt there’s much you can’t handle.” She couldn’t stop her cheeks from heating. Best to leave now before he said anything else to make her regret—or worse, rethink—her “never again” rule.
Instead, she said, “Give me a minute,” and called Chief Riley to let him know she needed to clear a shed of potential firearms.
“How did that happen?” Chief Riley groused into the phone. “I sent you on a trespassing call and now you’re inventorying firearms?”
“I’ll explain it when I see you.” Leann hit the off button, fetched a flashlight from the trunk of the police car and made it to the shed before Gary so much as moved. Good. She wanted him to know she was efficient. She reached for the shed’s door handle and pulled; it stuck. She started to pull harder, but a body came too close and an arm went around her.
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. As Gary opened the shed door easily, he opened something inside her, too. Something that made her lose her breath and consider turning to look up at the dark and handsome face, readying her lips for the kind of kiss that...
She tried to enter quickly, ducking under his arm, striving to vanquish traitorous yearnings. All she managed to do was bump her head on a beam. Goober followed them, nosed around and decided to wait outside. Smart dog.
“Where were you stationed in Germany and when?” he queried, following her into the shed. “I spent some time there.”
She turned on the flashlight. “Schweinfurt. We lived there for two years. Aaron was born there.”
“Your son?”
“My ten-year-old. Do the math and that will tell you when. I have a twelve-year-old, too. He was born stateside. They’re a handful.” She said the last sentence a little louder than she needed to. In her experience kids were a great way of discouraging potential suitors: preteenage boys were especially off-putting.
“Hmm.”
Good, she’d given him pause. Moving the flashlight up and down the floor, walls and over all the junk piled there, she wondered at what might be buried. “Where exactly did you find the Yellowboy?”
Gary showed her the area under the table. She got on her knees, used the flashlight and pulled out screwdrivers, lanterns and even a length of rusty chain but no weapons. She did the same for a few other corners, trying not to notice the smell or the evidence left behind by animals that’d made the shed home.
“I don’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean you’re weapon free. If you find anything else, hand it...” She looked around the shed, at all the piles of junk. “...or bring it over to Bianca’s.”
“I’ll do anything you ask, Officer Bailey.”
His sweet, slow drawl had her heading for the doorway, scooting past him and careful not to touch.
He followed her, Goober at his side, and waited patiently while she dusted off her hands and climbed behind the wheel of her vehicle. Relieved, she put the key in the ignition.
“Hey, Bailey,” came a gravelly voice.
Russell Blackgoat, breathing heavily, seemed to come out of nowhere and pounded on her hood. “You’ve been over here forever and I don’t see you loading him into the back. I came to make sure everything is all right. What’s going on?”
Leann got out from behind the wheel, ready to scold Russell for walking this far. It was half a mile from his place. Good thing it was mostly downhill or the octogenarian might not be breathing at all. He could have fallen... Before she could open her mouth, Gary opened his.
“Hello, sir.” Gary’s hand was out poised for a shake; a look of respect was on his face.
“I’m Gary Guzman, Bianca’s nephew and Oscar’s little brother. I’m going to be fixing up the place a bit. This fun girl is Goober.”
Russell grasped Gary’s hand before bending to pet the dog. “Goober, huh? I imagine the rotti mix who’s been jogging around my house is yours?”
“That would be Wilma. How far away is your house?”
“Half mile. Fool names for dogs.”
“I agree, but I didn’t name them. I’m watching them for friends who are doing tours overseas. My best friend is in Afghanistan.”
“I was in Vietnam. Oscar’s told me about you.”
“The Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment.”
“I was with the 213th Field Artillery Battalion, Eighth Army. Sorry I called the po-po on you.”
“Po-po?” Gary raised an eyebrow.
He did that a lot, and she hated that she noticed. “My boys have educated Russell on cop slang,” she supplied.
“I help with certain Boy Scout assignments,” Russell further explained.
“He’s the only man in town who knows how to tie a trucker’s knot.”
“And she found me,” Russell said. “Now, once a year every ten-year-old Boy Scout in town comes out to my place so I can teach them.”
“I can tie a trucker’s knot,” Gary said.
“Good to know,” Leann said. “I’ll divide Aaron’s troop in half. Some to Russell, and some to you.”
Gary shook his head. “But, I’m not staying.”
“If you’re fixing up this place, you’ll be here awhile,” Russell predicted, looking at the ramshackle building. “Six months, maybe seven, and that’s pushing it.”
“Won’t take that long.”
“Ha, you’ve never restored an old home, have you? Or—” Russell suddenly looked affronted “—are you going to tear it down and start with new? New’s not better, you know. This place had good bones. Things people build today have ugly, weak bones. Have you seen the new library in town? Made out of nothing!”
“I’m not tearing it down. I’m restoring. And, it’s not that big a place. No, I haven’t seen the library.”
Russell’s breathing had finally settled down to normal. “You got one big hole in the roof that you can see.”
“Sheet metal is the way to go.”
“If you buy new, though, rather than checking the metal yard, it won’t match the rest of the roof.”
“I can paint.”
Russell guffawed and mumbled something about “old barn tin,” which Gary—looking interested—immediately latched onto.
Leann left them chatting as if they’d been friends forever. “Men,” she muttered, trying not to mind that Russell hadn’t even come over to shut the car door for her and chat a bit like he was prone to do.
Trying not to wish that Gary had done it instead.
Her shift long over, she returned to the police station. The place always smelled a bit like the lemon floor polish used by the cleanup crew. Saturdays were busy, however, and so the station smelled more like sweat and cheap perfume.
Leann contributed to the sweat but not to the perfume. She didn’t want to give away her position if she were trying to sneak up on someone.
Walking across the lobby, she nodded at Lucas Stillwater, who sat behind the front desk listening to a woman complain about dog barking.
At least this time it couldn’t be Goober or Wilma.
Oscar came out of the side door and went over to say something in Lucas’s ear. They both looked up at Leann and then checked the clock hanging over the front entrance. It was half past eleven.
Chief Riley called something from the back and Oscar shouted, “Leann’s here.”
“Send her in.”
Leann headed for the chief’s office. He was staring at his computer screen and frowning. “Close the door,” he said without looking up.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Chief Riley said, “about Lucas’s retirement.”
Leann nodded, her throat going dry.
“There are two of you putting in for his job.”
“Yes, sir,” Leann acknowledged.
“You have the right attitude and the drive,” Chief Riley said, “and an outstanding record.”
“Thank you. I have a college degree and have been with the Sarasota Falls Police Department longer than Oscar.” It felt wrong to talk up herself. But, she wanted the promotion—deserved it.
“I’m going to be honest,” Chief Riley said. “Six months ago, your qualifying score at the gun range was seventy percent.”
Leann knew that. Knew that had she scored a 69 percent, she’d have been put on probation and would need to retake the qualification.
She hadn’t been able to spend enough time training. First, she had two kids and they had to have every minute she could find. Second, since being on the force, she had shot her gun only once, so the need didn’t seem to be there. Thankfully.
Sarasota Falls wasn’t a large town with a lot of folks where every call meant edge-of-the-seat danger. No, here she was more likely to direct traffic, or help Mrs. Brennan find her lost cat. Leann’s sister generated the most calls. No way would Leann need a gun when it came to Gail and hubby number three. Although, Ray had once come into possession of a stolen car, quite by accident.
“Leann?”
“I promise I’ll get a higher score next month,” she said.
“Oscar’s last score was ninety-six.”
“And if I should get a ninety-five, I’d lose the promotion due to a point? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Chief Riley shook his head. “I’m thinking a score of eighty-five would look good on your paperwork. And, the fact that the mayor has a say in who gets the position should make you want that score to be as high as possible.”
“I—” She swallowed. The mayor was good friends with her father and knew how much Ted Crabtree hated having a cop for a daughter.
Chief Riley ended the conversation with, “Officer, I think we have an understanding.”
She nodded and left his office. Her stomach felt the hammering of a million nervous butterflies. “You can do this,” she told herself. She’d gone to the academy. She’d run the miles and done the push-ups. Passed every exam with honors. There’d been ten women in the class, then five, then three. She’d been the only one to make it to the end.
The only people who’d come to her graduation had been her two boys, brought by her best friend, Patsy, and her parents’ housekeeper, Clarissa. Her parents neither acknowledged nor supported her career.
Sitting at her cubicle, she tried to finish her trespassing report concerning Bianca Guzman’s place. She’d managed only five words when she noted Chief Riley exit his office and glance at the clock. Then, he waited patiently while Lucas assured the same complaining woman that people were allowed to park on certain streets at certain hours.
The lady huffed and left.
Leann listened a moment, finally overhearing Lucas say, “She was gone exactly two hours and two minutes.”
“You sure?” Oscar said. “You were dealing with the parking lady.”
“I still managed to look at the clock and write down Leann’s arrival time.”
Huh? Her arrival time?
“I said three hours,” Oscar said. “I’m the closest.”
“No,” Chief Riley objected. “I said an hour and ten minutes. That’s fifty-two minutes.”
“But three hours is...” Oscar’s words tapered off. “You’re right.”
“I totally blew it,” Lucas said. “I predicted four hours and thirty minutes.”
“A month ago, you’d have been right. Put my little brother alone with a single female, and he’d have kept her occupied for hours,” Oscar said.
Leann’s hackles went up.
“But, Leann’s different,” Oscar said. “I’ve told him to curb the romance.”
What? Leann bit back the slew of words that started to surface.
“And,” Oscar continued, “Gary’s not himself. He’s a bit more aimless than usual.”
“Okay, ’fess up. Why are Gary and I being scrutinized?” Leann demanded, giving Oscar her most annoyed look.
Oscar grinned. “We did a pool with each of us estimating how long you’d spend out at the old cabin ascertaining that Gary wasn’t a trespasser.”
Leann turned to Lucas, aghast. “You thought I might stay out there for more than four hours?”
“Oscar says his brother mentioned your name once or twice, or twenty, so...”
Oscar nudged Lucas and gave a cease-and-desist glare.
Gary had mentioned her once or twice or twenty?
Great. Her coworkers thought that just because a guy was good-looking, she might take longer on a call. Still muttering, she went through the hallway door, making sure it slammed behind her. Taking a soda from the fridge in the break room, she tried to gather her thoughts.
She was annoyed, mostly with herself. She’d never spent two hours on a trespassing call. Especially one that didn’t really involve a trespasser...and seemed like such a good guy.