Raeanne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer. RaeAnne Thayne
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home before that rain starts up again. I can throw your bike in the back of my vehicle.”
Owen chewed his lip. “Yeah, only, I’m not supposed to get in a car with anyone else.”
For a half second, Riley remembered his days undercover, grungy and rough. The kids in those desperate neighborhoods didn’t have the same suspicions as their parents. They used to flock around him for candy or the little toys he always seemed to have on hand. It hadn’t been great for his cover as a ruthless criminal and he’d taken heat from his superiors on the outside, but he hadn’t been able to stand their misery. It had become a game between him and the neighborhood kids, trying to come up with creative ways to sneak the goodies on the sly.
“You’re absolutely right to be cautious,” he said now to Claire’s sweet-faced kid, who was always warm and dry and loved. “But let me ask you, what does your mom say to look for if you’re ever in trouble?”
Owen gave him a sideways look, a smile lurking. “A cop, I guess.”
“Well, I’m the police chief, Owen. The top cop in Hope’s Crossing, as a matter of fact. I’ve known your mom since I was younger than you are. You’re safe with me, I swear it. Do you want to call your mom to make sure?”
Owen looked undecided for a moment and then shrugged. “It should be okay, I guess. Sorry. You probably think I’m a dork.”
“I think you’re one smart kid to be careful. Come on, let’s get you buckled up. You’ll have to sit in the backseat. That’s where I put all my tough customers.”
“Do you have handcuffs and everything?”
Riley opened his jacket to the inside pocket where he stowed his cuffs and pulled them out for Owen, whose eyes grew large. “Cool!”
Riley smiled and helped him in, then ensured he fastened his seat belt before he closed the door and headed to the back to make room for the bike.
When he returned to the front seat and pulled back into traffic, he cast a glance in the rearview mirror and was amused to see Owen’s fascination with the patrol vehicle.
“A little late to be coming home from school, isn’t it? Don’t tell me you were in trouble and had to stay after.”
“No way! I’ve never even had I.S.S. That means in-school suspension.”
Riley was familiar with the term. And the regular good old-fashioned suspension and its ugly cousin, expulsion. He had more than a passing acquaintance with every form of school punishment back in his wild youth.
“Did you have soccer practice or something?”
Owen shook his head but didn’t elaborate. Riley had enough experience with reluctant witnesses to know when someone was trying to keep secrets.
He firmly believed a kid was entitled to his secrets as long as they weren’t dangerous. All the same, he was too much of a cop not to be curious. “So what were you doing so late? Over at a friend’s house?”
Owen shook his head.
“Out on a date?” he teased.
“Ew. No!” The kid screwed up his face in horror at the idea.
“Then what?’
“Promise you won’t tell my mom?” he asked after a pause.
“That depends,” he answered honestly. He had a strict policy not to lie to kids for the sake of convenience. Probably because he felt like the first fourteen years of his life when he thought he had a happy, normal family had been basically a lie.
“Are you doing something illegal or is your secret something that your mom needs to know for your safety or well-being?”
Owen snorted. “No, nothing like that.” He paused again. “I’ve been making a present for my mom.”
“Ah, the secret mom present. Got it.”
“You know it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday, right?”
He winced. He’d forgotten that particular day and made a mental note to ask his sisters what Mary Ella might have her eye on. He had to make up for the dozen years of Mother’s Days he’d spent in California. “Thanks for the reminder. Guess I better get shopping.”
“My mom’s birthday is right after Mother’s Day, so I should really be giving her two presents.”
“Ooh, double whammy. That’s rough, man.”
Owen giggled again and Riley grinned into the rearview mirror, feeling better than he had all week.
“I wanted to do something awesome, but I don’t have very much money. So Evie at my mom’s store is helping me make her something.”
“Something out of beads?”
“Yeah. My mom has this cool watch thing that she can switch like, with different bands, you know? So Evie’s helping me make her a new one.”
He couldn’t have said why that touched him so much, but something about the image of this very rugged little boy with the bum arm making a bead thingy for his mom slid right to his heart. If he was this mushy over it, he could only imagine Claire would bawl like a newborn calf. “She’ll love it,” he assured the boy.
“I hope so.”
“Where does your mom think you are?” he asked as he turned onto Blackberry Lane.
“I told her I was going to my friend Robbie’s house after school.”
“What if your mom called Robbie’s mom to check?”
“Robbie’s mom works at the bank until six. His big sister tends him after school, so I told her I’d have Evie make her some earrings if she…” He paused, and in the mirror, Riley saw guilt flash over his features.
“If she gives you an alibi,” he answered for Owen.
“Yeah,” he answered, his voice sheepish. “You won’t tell my mom, will you?”
Something told him Claire was going to have trouble with this one and his elaborately orchestrated schemes. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t ruin the surprise for her or for you.”
Owen grinned. “Thanks a lot.”
“You be sure and let me know how she likes it, okay?” Riley said when he pulled into the driveway. The windows of her house looked warm and welcoming in the fading, gloomy light.
Although it went against everything he’d been telling himself all week about staying away from her, Riley knew he had no choice now and he opened his car door.
“You don’t have to come in,” Owen said. “I’m okay.”
“You might need somebody there to help you explain the mud on your cast. Anyway, your mom is an old friend and I need to check on her, see how she’s doing. And we’ve got a bike to fix, right? Between you and your mom, you’ve only got two good arms. I can give you a hand.”
“Do you know anything about fixing bikes?” Owen asked, his voice laced with suspicion. “My dad can never fix my bike when something goes wrong. Or Macy’s, either. If we have a bike that needs work, we always have to take it to Mike’s Bikes, even for a flat tire.”
That’s because your dad is a jackass pansy, he thought—but of course didn’t say.
“When I was first a beat cop, I used to ride a bike.”
Owen looked intrigued. “Like a motorcycle?”
“Nope, like a bicycle. Two wheels, pedals, chain. The whole bit.”
“Cops don’t ride bicycles.”
“Maybe not in Hope’s Crossing. It doesn’t make a lot of sense here. But in a city without a lot of snow, a bike is a great way to get around quickly.”
“Especially