An Unlikely Family. Cynthia Thomason
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not to disturb anything, she progressed to the inner office—hers. It was smaller than the reception area and well-or-ganized, with a desk in the center, a credenza behind and file cabinets along one wall. She walked behind the desk to a corner window that afforded a view of flowering shrubs and towering pines. It was paradise, a sunny, inspiring space that caused Evie’s eyes to well with tears.
And then she heard a gentle ping, much like a tiny pebble ricocheting off a smooth surface. “What was that?” she asked the otherwise still air. She spun around, expecting to see that someone or some thing had disturbed her solitude. But she was quite alone in the stuffy office. A trickle of perspiration ran between her breasts. She again felt for her earring and discovered it was missing. Ah. The ping. She dropped to her knees and began searching frantically.
She scraped her fingers over the rubber mat under the chair and mumbled threats to the earring. She never heard anyone enter the room until a deep voice commanded, “Come out from under that desk right now. And don’t try anything funny.”
Evie gulped back a gasp, sat up and bumped her head on the desk drawer.
“Police officer,” the mean-sounding man said. “Come out of there.”
Police officer? Well, that was good, wasn’t it? Evie curled her fingertips around the top of the desk and said, “Okay, I’m coming out.” She almost laughed. She sounded like the lone hold-out in a hostage crisis. Slowly rising to her knees, she stopped when her nose was level with the desk blotter and stared across the top.
The gruff voice belonged to a tall, formidably built man whose face was set in a scowl. He was definitely a cop—blue uniform, lots of stuff attached to the belt, the whole package. And he didn’t look happy. Clearly he wasn’t welcoming her to town with a big ol’ Heron Point grin.
She spoke into the middle of the lap drawer. “You don’t have your gun drawn, do you?”
“No, but hear this sound?” She flinched at a muffled pop. “That’s me unsnapping the holster just in case.”
She stood and held her hands high enough so he could see them, figuring submissive and obedient was her wisest course of action. “I don’t have a weapon,” she said, “so, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if you’d snap up again.”
He did. “What are you doing in here?”
She felt the back of her head where a small bump had formed. “I lost my earring,” she said. “It was a gift from my father, and I would be heartbroken to lose it. It rolled…” She stopped when she realized that was probably the least significant part of the story to this man in blue.
He frowned, obviously lacking any sympathy for her. “Looks like a case of breaking and entering to me.”
She checked her fingertips. No blood from a head injury, thank goodness. Just a dull pain behind her eyes. “You’re wrong. I did enter, but I didn’t have to break anything to do it. The back door was unlocked.”
“I don’t buy that,” he said. “This building is a school. It’s closed for the summer and is locked every night.”
Okay, forget submissive. No one had ever called Evie a liar to her face, and she was running out of patience with this guy, cop or not. “I’m well aware this is a school, and I’m telling you I opened the back door and walked in.”
“You shouldn’t have,” he said. “It’s nearly dark. No one has any business being in this building this time of night. You’re violating public property even if you didn’t pick the lock.”
She released a frustrated breath. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m not violating anything. Besides being part of that public you’re sworn to protect, I’m the new principal of Heron Point Elementary. And this is my office, or soon will be.”
He cocked his head to the side and studied her. His frown deepened. Was he drawing a conclusion based solely on appearance? Did he find her lacking in stature at five feet four inches? She followed his gaze downward and sighed. A jersey-knit camisole was definitely inappropriate for the head of a school. She tugged its thin strap back up to her shoulder. Give me a break, she thought. I’ve been driving all day. She was glad he couldn’t see her feet. One flat, flowered sandal had slipped off somewhere under the desk.
A corner of his mouth twitched. He rubbed his jaw and continued staring. “You’re the new principal?”
She squared her shoulders. “I am. And you’ll pardon me for saying so, but with your attitude, I’d guess you’ve spent more time in a principal’s office than I have.”
He folded his arms over his chest and grinned. She detected a dusting of fine dark hair on his left forearm, broken by a patch of white where his wide leather watch strap began. His ball cap covered most of what appeared to be thick black hair.
“That’s a pretty good guess,” he admitted.
She relaxed, one hand on the desk. “Can I assume you’re not going to arrest me?”
“Yes, you can. We don’t have a law against just entering.”
“Fine, but I still have an earring to find.”
“I guess I could help you.”
She started to protest, imagining a large, polished boot crunching the delicate gold mounting. “No need…”
“It’s okay. Firemen get cats out of trees. I suppose I can do jewelry recovery.” He started to bend in front of the desk when they heard a beeping sound from outside.
Evie spun around to the window and stared at a small vehicle racing toward the school at perhaps a wicked fifteen miles per hour. She turned back to the officer. “What’s that?”
“Oh, shi—shoot. I forgot to cancel Lou.” He pressed a button on a radio attached to his shoulder, and the device crackled to life. “Lou, it’s Billy. Never mind. False alarm. Everything’s under control.”
Too late. Whoever Lou was, he was arriving amid a blaze of flashing lights attached to the top of his vehicle. “Are you kidding me?” Evie asked. “Your backup is arriving in a golf cart?”
The man who had just identified himself as Billy joined her at the window. “He had to. I have the squad car.”
“The squad car? As in, there’s only one?”
“It’s all we need. You can see how fast Lou got here in the golf cart.”
At this moment Heron Point and her hometown seemed more than thirteen hundred miles apart. They could have existed in different galaxies. Imagine golf carts fighting crime in the Motor City!
She looked over at Billy who was intent on watching the battery vehicle purr to a stop at the school’s entrance. An older, decidedly well-nourished officer in the cart lifted a radio from the dashboard. His voice emerged from the radio at Billy’s shoulder. “Ah, Roger that, Billy. But I’m already here.”
Evie got down on her knees. “I’ve got to find my earring, while you tell your crime-fighting partner about the potentially volatile situation here.”
Billy returned to the desk and stood a couple of feet from where she was searching. He didn’t say anything, but Evie could hardly ignore his presence towering above her. She looked up at him and sighed. “Is something else wrong, Officer?”
He was staring disapprovingly. “Maybe there is. I think you’re having a bit of fun at the expense of our town’s law-enforcement division. We take our jobs seriously here, Madam Principal, and if you ever find yourself in real trouble, you’ll be thankful for our commitment to keeping order on this island.”
Oh, dear. She’d hurt his feelings. She hadn’t intended to. All she wanted was to find her precious earring and crawl between clean, pink sheets. “I’m sorry, Officer…?”
“Muldoone. Billy Muldoone.”
“Officer