Jack Murray, Sheriff. Janice Johnson Kay
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don’t think your father would do something like that. This is the kind of thing we should talk about no matter what. But, yeah, it was his being late with you that brought it to mind. After I’d gotten over being scared that you’d been in a car accident.”
Her attempt to reassure apparently worked, because Stephanie gave her a look. “Oh, Mom.”
Beth was able to laugh. “I know, I know. I’m a worrywart. But I can’t help it, okay? Humor me.”
Stephanie nodded. There was a moment of silence, and Beth waited, sensing that she had something else to say. Suddenly Stephanie burst out, “I don’t want to live with Dad!”
A chill wrapped itself around Beth’s chest. “Did he ask you if you wanted to?”
“No…” She bit her lip. “Sometimes he says stuff…but mostly he talks about us all together, like he thinks you’re going to change your mind. Are you?”
“No. Do you wish I would?”
Stephanie ducked her head. “Not really. I mean, sometimes I wish we were like other families, and I didn’t have to go visit my dad, but… I didn’t like it back when he lived here and he always got so mad.”
“Me, either.”
“He gets so mad about even little stuff.”
That same chill held Beth in its grip. “At you?”
“No-o,” her daughter said uncertainly. “We never do anything to make him mad. Except when I ask him if it’s time to go home. But it’s just—” she shrugged and made a face “—everything. He yells at the TV when he thinks some referee made a dumb call, and he yells and flips off other drivers, and I was afraid he was going to punch some guy at the gas station one time because Dad thought the guy cut in front of him. It’s just…” She squirmed. “It’s scary. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” Beth said softly. “I know what you mean.” She bit her lower lip. “I hate to send you on your own to deal with him. But I think under all that anger he’s not a bad man. And he’s your father. If you grew up not knowing him, I bet someday you’d be sorry. I keep hoping that he’ll realize how he’s making other people feel and do something about it. But if he really, really scares you—”
“No, it’s okay,” Stephanie interrupted, looking older than her years.
Beth looked her straight in the eyes. “Will you promise to tell me if it’s ever not okay?”
Lauren appeared in the doorway with a pile of books high enough to make Beth groan inwardly. Steph glanced toward her, but Beth insisted, “Promise?”
“Uh, sure.”
Beth smiled shakily and gave her another hug. “It’s not fair, is it?”
“What’s not fair?” Lauren asked.
At the same time as her sister snapped, “None of your beeswax!” Beth said, “Just something Steph and I were talking about. Let’s see, what did you pick out?”
Lauren stuck out her tongue at her sister, but didn’t insist on an answer.
Normalcy, Beth thought, as Stephanie retreated with her own book to her chair, where she appeared to become completely absorbed in her reading. Beth might almost have believed it if only Steph had turned a page more often, and if she hadn’t given a heavy sigh she apparently didn’t realize anyone else would hear.
Not fair. But what could she do? Beth wondered with familiar despair and even panic. Go on in this constant state of tension? Or wait until Ray got caught playing his nasty games?
Of course, he wouldn’t get caught unless she called the police, and she had a suspicion the only policeman who would be interested in her problems at this point was Sheriff Jack Murray—and he represented danger of a different kind.
JACK GLANCED AROUND the crowded gymnasium and felt familiar regret that he hadn’t known his own son in time to be more involved in everyday things like the PTA. He’d had time to become good friends with his son, which was something, but he still resented all he’d lost. Will had walked into his life at fourteen years old, and now, in a blink of the eye, he was gone to college.
The pangs were old ones, and Jack was able to ignore them as he tuned in to the welcoming speech being delivered by the president of the middle school parent group.
“And so it’s really a pleasure to see so many of you tonight.” A stylish woman who probably never wore jeans or sweatshirts, the president beamed as she looked around. “Let me start by introducing this year’s officers.”
Jack was tuning out again when a name snapped him back to attention.
“And Beth Sommers, our treasurer. Beth, where are you?”
Jack’s head turned along with everyone else’s. Near the back, Beth stood briefly, smiled and waved to the perfunctory applause. Her curly dark hair was knotted on top of her head and she was dressed in a pretty but casual jumper over a white T-shirt. With the one glimpse he hungrily realized how good she looked: the delicate sculpting of her cheekbones, the graceful line of her neck, the chin that she could set so mulishly. Once she sat back down, he lost sight of her without making a fool of himself by half standing and craning his neck.
His intense reaction to her presence made him feel fool enough. Damn it, she’d turned him down as firmly as a woman could. Maybe it was personal—she wasn’t attracted to him or just plain didn’t like him; maybe it wasn’t. She’d said she wasn’t ready to try again. Either way, it spelled no, however much he wished it didn’t.
His job was to protect her, whether she lived in his jurisdiction or not. He hoped she would call if she needed him, in which case he had to separate attraction from obligation. He might ride to her rescue, but she wasn’t going to fall into his arms afterward.
The president introduced him and he went to the front. Jack took a moment to raise the microphone to suit his six-foot-two height, then looked around to take stock of his audience. Mostly women, not unusual for these school functions. When he’d shown up as a determined father, Will’s last couple of years of high school, he’d occasionally been the only man at meetings. Jack thought that was a shame.
“Hello, folks,” he said, nodding. “I see familiar faces, so some of you will have heard what I’m going to say tonight, but I figure that’s okay. It’s important that you know what to expect of me, and what I expect of you.”
He had deliberately not looked in Beth’s direction at first. He was taking the care he would with a skittish animal, not making any sudden moves, keeping his voice even, pretending disinterest.
And there was an element of anticipation, too. Until that moment when their gazes locked, he could imagine that her expression wouldn’t be indifferent. He could hope for a spark in her eyes, guarded but still there, a hint of something to let him hope that her refusal to have dinner with him wasn’t personal, that someday she would be ready.
He paused, let his eyes linger for a moment on the young mother who sat beside Beth, jiggling a toddler on her lap. She looked about sixteen, too young to have a child in middle school.
Beth could have avoided him—gazed down at her hands, smiled at the toddler, glanced toward the exit. But that wasn’t in her nature. Instead, her chin was already up and she was waiting. He was interested to see the pink that washed her cheeks and the challenge in her blue eyes. No indifference here, though what she did feel, he couldn’t guess.
Without a pause, Jack looked at her neighbor on the other side and continued his short prepared speech.
The way he talked to a group like this was as important as anything he said. He didn’t want to be intimidating, though he still believed there was a time and place to scare the crap out of someone. But he’d learned these past years how wrong was Ed Patton’s brand of law enforcement. Prevention and intervention were a thousand times better than throwing an eighteen-year-old kid