Troublemaker

CHAPTER 10

WHEN BO STEPPED INTO THE STATION WITH TRICKS beside her, the first person she saw was Warren Gooding. If he hadn’t seen her too, she’d have silently backed out and not returned until after he left. Unfortunately, he did see her, so she was denied the coward’s way out. Her stomach tied in knots at the thought of the coming confrontation because it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Loretta, the dispatcher, peeked out from around her cubicle and mouthed “Sorry” at her. Bo gave a slight nod to let her know it was okay. What could Loretta have done, thrown the man out? She only wished. Physically Loretta could have, because she was a big woman, but that would only make the inevitable meeting that much more hostile.

“Mr. Gooding,” she said calmly. She didn’t feel calm, but she could act calm. Telling him he was a jerk and his son was a jerk wouldn’t accomplish anything. She tried to picture the path she walked with Tricks, the peacefulness of the trees and wind and sun. Maybe that happy-place stuff really worked; it was worth a shot.

“I’d like to talk to you in private.” His tone was curt, his scowl saying that he wasn’t in a placating mood. He was a tall, heavyset man, and would have been good-looking if his discontent with the world and everyone he knew wasn’t evident in his expression.

“Certainly.” If she’d been a betting person, she’d have bet every cent Axel was paying her that she knew what he was going to say. He thought he was a special snowflake, that the rules that applied to everyone else didn’t apply to him. She wasn’t looking forward to his outrage when he found out no snowflakes were special, that they all melted.

The station house was a mostly open floor plan, with a few desks and chairs scattered around. The town’s money could only go so far, so functionality was the name of the game, with decoration and status far behind. The best that could be said of her area was that she had the newest office chair, which was to say it was less than ten years old. Maybe. She led the way to her desk, indicated the visitor’s chair. He glared around as if the layout of the station was her fault. “I said private.”

“I heard what you said, but this is as private as it gets. I don’t have a private office. Our only other option is to step into the bathroom, and no offense, but that isn’t going to happen.” She could just see that, yelling back and forth over the toilet-though she hoped it wouldn’t come to the yelling part. The hope was a small one, but miracles did happen every now and then.

His head swiveled back and forth as if looking for an office to appear out of thin air. Frustrated, he turned back to glare at her some more.

“Please, have a seat.” She indicated the visitor’s chair. After hesitating a minute, not wanting to give in but having no other option, Mr. Gooding dragged the chair over so he was mostly sitting beside her, rather than in front of her. She slid her own chair back and swiveled it so she was facing him. They weren’t meeting as equals, and she didn’t want him to think they were.

Tricks had gone to greet Loretta and now came prancing toward the new person. When she was a few feet away, however, she got a distinct look of doggie distaste on her expressive face and came to a halt. Bo kept watch on her, ready to intervene if Tricks decided to greet Mr. Gooding with her usual enthusiasm, but after studying him for a second Tricks backed away and went to her bed. Evidently ill temper smelled bad.

Good girl! There was no evidence that Tricks was telepathic, but Bo sent her the approving thought anyway.

Mr. Gooding scowled at Bo as if she were the cause of all his problems. “I want you to drop the charges against Kyle,” he said abruptly.

A lead-in exchange of pleasantries would have been nice, but so much for that. She suspected Mr. Gooding wouldn’t know “pleasant” if it bit him on the ass. “Why?” She kept her tone calm, the word faintly puzzled.

His face got red and his voice got loud. “Because that bitch he married-”

She held up her hand, cutting off his outburst. “I’m not involved in his marriage. Whether or not Emily presses charges is up to her. The only charges I’m involved in are those of assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest.”

“He said he didn’t know it was you.”

“Yes, I know. I didn’t know it was him, either, when I entered the bakery and found him in a fight with Officer Tucker. How is that pertinent?”

“He’d never have swung at you if he’d known,” Mr. Gooding charged. His face was still red, and his fists were clenching and unclenching.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“The hell you say it doesn’t matter!” His voice rose again.

“Mr. Gooding. Even if he didn’t know who I was, he definitely knew who Officer Tucker was.”

“We don’t live in this town, we don’t know every half-ass cop by sight.”

“That’s possible,” she allowed. “However, I assume you and your son both know what a police uniform looks like. Officer Tucker was in uniform.” God, this was unpleasant. The knots in her stomach were turning into faint nausea; that happy-place stuff wasn’t working. She didn’t enjoy confrontation, but neither did she back down from it. All she had to do was remain calm.

“My boy could do time over this when it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. Neither you nor your deputy are hurt. There’s no point in dragging this out, in ruining his life because he and his sorry-ass wife got in an argument. Tell me what this department needs and I’ll make sure you get it. A new squad car? An add-on to the building so you’ll have an office?”

Well, that was brazen, even for him. Outraged, she sat there for a minute. He probably thought she was weighing the offer; instead she was wondering how hard it would be to hook her feet under the railing of his chair and tip it over backward. Maybe he’d bang his head as hard as she’d banged hers during the scuffle with his son.

No, she couldn’t do it. That way lay madness-intensely satisfying, but still madness. When she could control her tone and keep it even, she said, “Are you seriously trying to bribe me? Because if you are, hold on while I get my phone so I can record all this.” She did just that, fetching her phone out of her bag and tapping a few icons. She laid it on the desk. “Would you repeat all that, please? About buying us a new squad car or adding on to the station building if we’ll drop our charges against Kyle?” She lifted her brows in inquiry.

He looked in real danger of exploding, or maybe stroking out, but he saw the quicksand at his feet. “I categorically deny I was trying to bribe you! That’s ridiculous! These charges against Kyle are ridiculous-”

“Don’t bother recording it,” Loretta said laconically from behind her partition. “I heard it.”

His head whipped around; in his choler, he’d forgotten about Loretta, perhaps because she was out of sight and no calls had come in. The red color in his face deepened into puce. Before he could dig himself in any deeper and the situation became even more of a powder keg, Bo took a deep breath and willed herself back from the edge.

“I suggest we let this case play out within the confines of the law. Kyle has no prior charges-or any that stuck, because you’re always buying him out of trouble, which should tell you something right there”-she had to put that in, accompanied by a flinty-eyed look, but then she pulled herself back to calm-“so I doubt he’ll do any hard time, though the judge might give him some short time in the county lockup. I doubt even that. Likely he’ll end up with probation. I don’t know, but it’s my best guess.”

Instead of seizing the opening, Mr. Gooding went on another angle of attack. “But he’d still have a record. My boy has all he can handle, with his slut of a wife taking everything he has. He can’t even get his own stuff from his own house because she’s got a restraining order against him. She’ll probably sell all his guns-”

Please, Jesus, let it be so, Bo silently prayed. Aloud she said, “I understand Emily packed up Kyle’s things and sent them to your house. What else does he need? Make me a list and I’ll make sure he gets it. And don’t say guns, because I’m sure you don’t think Kyle needs access to any weapons until he’s calmed down.”

“Those guns belong to him.”

“Then they’ll be granted to him in the divorce settlement. Don’t worry about the guns. It isn’t hunting season, and if he did something so stupid with one that even you couldn’t buy his way out, he’d go away for a long, long time. Hard time, too. The best thing you can do now is sit on him and keep him out of trouble so things can calm down.”

His fists were still clenching and unclenching. Unable to corral his fury at being at a disadvantage, he jumped to his feet so violently the chair fell over backward anyway. Tricks gave a startled yelp and shot off her bed, darting to Bo and pressing against her legs.

“I’ll be pressing charges against you, missy!” Savage outrage thickened his tone. “You made threats against my son-”

“You mean that part about tearing his fucking head off?” put in Loretta, still hidden by her partition. There was a snicker. “Yeah, everyone took that real serious, considering he weighs about twice what she does.”

“Shut up!” he roared, pivoting and taking a threatening step toward the partition. “This stupid town is taking orders from two ignorant pussies and I-”

Loretta slowly stood up, all six-feet-one and two hundred seventy-two pounds of her rising from behind the partition. Her chin was tucked, her eyes bright as she eyed him as if he were steak tartare and she was a starving lion. “I’ll bet my pussy against yours any day, hoss. If you want to know who I am, the name’s Loretta Hobson, from out Lister Road. You’ve probably heard of my family? The Mean-As-Shit Hobsons? I’ll take you on any day.”

His head jerked back. Everyone in the county had heard of the Mean-As-Shit Hobsons. Cross a Hobson, and you were likely to find your house burned down-and that’s if they were in a good mood. The worst part of it was they were pretty damn smart and had never been caught at anything.

In a very level tone, Bo said, “Mr. Gooding, I think it would be best if you leave now. Just be patient, tell Kyle to act smart for once in his life, and let things settle down. I’ll forget this one time that you tried to bribe me, but if you try such a thing again, I’ll arrest you on the spot. Are we clear?”

He was still watching Loretta as if she were a cobra and had him hypnotized. Loretta barked, “Are we clear?” and he visibly jumped, his head swiveling toward Bo. His cheeks had lost all their color, but malice burned in his eyes.

“I’ll have your job for this,” he uttered almost soundlessly. “Wait until the town finds out you’re shacking up with some guy who turned up out of the blue.”

That hadn’t taken long, she thought. Morgan had been at her house for a whole four days. “Oh, you mean my old friend who just had open-heart surgery and can barely walk? That guy? Sure, go for it, but be prepared to be laughed at.”

That information was almost too much for him to process. He teetered on the verge of a violent explosion, but self-preservation kept him from going there because he seemed to sense that Bo and Loretta were a hair’s breadth from putting handcuffs on him. He couldn’t bear to admit defeat but had no other option. Finally he simply turned and stomped out, leaving the door standing open in his wake.

Blowing out a breath, Bo closed the door and turned back to Loretta. They grinned at each other and met halfway across the office for a high five and a fist bump. “I’m so glad you’re a Hobson,” she told Loretta.

“It comes in handy.” Loretta blew on her nails, buffed them on her shirt. “I can’t wait to tell my brothers. They’ll get a kick out of it. You really got a man living with you?”

“For now, poor guy. He just got out of the hospital.”

It was the description of “poor guy” that did it because no woman described a romantic interest that way. Losing interest, Loretta said, “Hope he feels better soon,” and dropped the subject.

The excitement over, Loretta returned to her cubicle and Bo sat at her desk. Tricks sniffed around before deciding to take a nap. After thinking the situation over for a few minutes, Bo called Mayor Buddy and filled him in on her encounter with Warren Gooding.

He sighed. From the sound, she could just see his face, homely but pleasant, settling into lines of concern. “I knew he was going to be a problem. Still-he did just give us leverage, and we might be able to work it to our advantage.”

“I’m torn,” she admitted. “I dislike him so much I’d love to file bribery charges against him, but overall that wouldn’t be good for the town. If the sawmills closed because he wasn’t there to run them, that would hurt some innocent families who depend on the jobs.”

“It’s your call. If you want to file charges, I’ll back you up.”

Letting go of the vision of Warren Gooding behind bars, Bo gave her own sigh. “Strategically, I think we’d be better off not filing charges, but not letting him know.”

“I agree. I’ll talk to the town council about this whole situation. I don’t want everyone getting sucked into what should be a private divorce situation. Bad blood can cause trouble for years. Harold Patterson”-that was the barber-“is already up in arms because he’s been sweet on Miss Doris for years, not that she’s having any of it, but he thinks he can impress her by taking up for her and Emily.”

Bo rubbed her forehead; she could feel a headache coming on. The way the lives of people in small towns were woven together was foreign to her, but over the years she’d gotten sucked into it anyway, and damn it, now that she knew these people, she cared, however reluctantly. It was disturbing that she even knew this many people. If she’d known this would happen, she might never have taken the job of chief.

“I need a vacation,” she said aloud.

Mayor Buddy chuckled. “I know the feeling. Small towns, huh?” He paused, then with a faint undertone of guilt said, “Come to think of it, have you ever taken one? Vacation.”

Mortified that he might think she’d been asking for paid time off, she said, “I was joking. I have too much on my plate to even consider a day off. Not only do I have a boatload of tech projects lined up, I have a friend recuperating at my place.”

“I heard about that. When he’s feeling better, bring him to town so people can meet him. I bet Miss Doris would bake something special for him.”

Oh, yes, she definitely had a headache. When Morgan was feeling better, he wouldn’t look so sick. That stood to reason, didn’t it? What would people see when they met him? Would they see what she saw, a man who chose to live his life on the razor’s edge of danger, a man who could and had killed in a number of ways? Perhaps it was because she knew he’d been shot, knew-vaguely-what he did for a living, but to her it was evident in the sharpness of his gaze, in the way he moved, the intense alertness about him even when he was doing nothing more dangerous than watching TV. Who would be so oblivious that they’d look at him and think he was nothing out of the ordinary?

Now Mayor Buddy was wanting to enfold Morgan in the town’s embrace, which to her was a little like putting a tiger in a petting zoo. And Miss Doris would bake the tiger a special cupcake.

God in heaven. She couldn’t keep Morgan secluded, or everyone would die of curiosity and she could just see a regular parade of visitors to her house on a pilgrimage to see the man she kept hidden there. Small towners were both nosy and brazen; they wouldn’t care if their excuses were flimsy as long as their goal was accomplished. Sooner or later-probably sooner-she would have to bring Morgan to town. What better way to spike Warren Gooding’s charges than to let people see for themselves what shape Morgan was in? Sooner would definitely be better, while he still looked sickly.

When she got home, Morgan was outside on the porch again, his chair in the sunshine. The late afternoon was feeling cool to her, but he didn’t have a jacket on over his tee shirt. Her laptop was open in his lap, and he was tapping at the track pad. Tricks woofed happily as soon as she saw him, and when Bo released her from her safety harness, she bounded out of the Jeep and raced to him, her tail wagging madly, her whole body wiggling in delight.

He stopped what he was doing to scratch her ears with both hands and ask how her day had gone. After a minute of that Tricks abandoned him to do some investigative sniffing. “Hi,” he said, glancing at Bo, and went back to the laptop.

Two seconds later he muttered, “Shit!” and closed the laptop.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, going to stand beside him while she kept an eye on Tricks.

“I saved seven of the little fuckers, you’d think that would count for something,” he growled. He shoved his hand restlessly through his hair. “Sorry. That slipped out.”

She had to laugh. Dragging another chair around, she sat and stretched out her legs. “Playing Pet Rescue, huh?”

“For about three hours now. I run out of lives, I play something else until I have more lives.” He slanted a look of blue fire at her. “No offense, but I’m going crazy with boredom. I’m not good at doing nothing.”

“None taken. I’d be bored too.” Privately she thought the timing couldn’t have worked out any better. “If you feel up to it, want to go to work with me tomorrow? I can’t guarantee sitting in the police station will be any more interesting than playing Pet Rescue, but it’ll be a change of scenery.”

“God, yes.”

“Things got a little interesting today.” She told him about Warren Gooding’s visit, and the standoff with Loretta, which elicited one of those rusty-sounding laughs from him. “Evidently people are already curious about you, so you can expect a steady parade of people coming by to look you over. But Mayor Buddy also said Miss Doris would probably bake something special for you, so I’d say it’ll be worth being stared at.”

“Hasn’t anyone in your town ever seen a stranger before?” he muttered.

“It’s a small town. Being nosy is required.” She smiled as she tilted her face toward the sun. The down time was… relaxing. It was oddly companionable, sitting here with him in the late afternoon, chatting while she watched Tricks. She never would have described him as companionable, but there it was.

“How did you end up here? This isn’t exactly on the beaten path.”

“Hubris,” she replied. The story wasn’t a pretty one, but what the hell, she wasn’t ashamed of it. She’d made some mistakes, and she’d worked hard and dug her way out of a hole. “I teamed up with a friend in California and flipped a house. It seemed like a fun thing to do, real estate was booming, and we each cleared about thirty thousand profit from it. In hindsight, that was the worst thing that could have happened because I decided I liked flipping houses better than tech writing and could make a lot more money from it. My friend didn’t like the work so much, though she did like the money, so she opted out of going in with me on the next house. I made money on it too. I thought I was an expert. The people who bought it had a friend who hired me to convert an old barn where he grew up, and here I am.”

“Weaseled out on you, huh?”

She appreciated his quick comprehension. “It got so I couldn’t get in touch with him very easily, and whenever I did he’d tell me to keep going, and he made the decisions on lighting fixtures, flooring, high-end kitchen appliances. To keep construction flowing, I used my money, and when that got low, I switched to my credit cards. Dumb. Real estate was tanking, big time. The barn was almost finished when he told me he couldn’t get financing, and on top of being stupid enough to use my own money, I hadn’t gotten a signed contract from him. He walked away clear, and I had a barn to live in and a mountain of debt.”

“Which explains why I’m here. If it hadn’t been for that, you’d have told me tough luck and put me on the road again.”

“The money was definitely a big consideration. But I’ve worked hard, whittled the debt down, and it’s all manageable now. At least my head is above water, thanks to my deal with the town. Besides, I wouldn’t have put you on the road right away. You were pitiful.”

He winced at her less-than-complimentary description, but it was accurate so he shrugged and let it go. He surveyed her for a minute, his thoughts hidden. She was unprepared for what he finally said. “I can get Axel to pay you more.”

She blinked, astonished, then laughed. “Not necessary. When I say it’s manageable, I mean it. I’ll use the money to knock a big hole in the remaining mortgage and either pay it off early or refinance for a lower payment. I’m good with the deal as it is.” She hauled herself out of the chair. “I need to get busy. How does pizza sound? You do eat pizza, don’t you?”

“Pizza sounds like heaven. Any kind of pizza. I even ate vegan pizza once. Not willingly, but I ate it.” He stood with improving ease, holding the laptop in one big hand.

“C’mon, Tricks,” Bo called, then looked up at him with a smirk playing around the edges of her mouth. “By the way, it would help if you could look really pitiful tomorrow, because the rumor’s already going around that we’re shacking up.”