Caught by the Sheriff--A Clean Romance Page 5

  “Sorry about that. I was welcoming a visitor to town.”

  “Since when?” Jordan lifted a brow at him and clasped his fingers together as he rocked in his desk chair. He grinned.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Carlos waved a finger at him. “It wasn’t like that. She had a kid in tow. Wasn’t even my type.”

  Jordan chuckled and got up to get his jacket.

  “I was beginning to think you didn’t have a type.”

  “Says the guy who is as single as I am. You’re letting your tall, dark and handsome go to waste,” Carlos said.

  “I’m just trying to keep hearts from breaking.”

  Carlos laughed as he turned on his computer. The photograph of his mother on his desk sobered him, as he waited for the screen to load.

  He used to have a type. Natalie. Back when he was in the Air Force. Natalie had been smart and tough as nails. Best pilot he’d ever known. She’d made him push harder to be a better pilot himself. They had had plans in life, or so he’d thought. As it turned out, hers hadn’t involved settling down in one place.

  His mother used to say that everything in life happened for a reason. She was a firm believer that life’s challenges built character. That they were both revealing and empowering. They forced an individual’s strengths and weaknesses to the surface. Life’s hurdles tested relationships too. Only the ones that were meant to be survived. That’s what his mother kept telling him after Natalie had moved on. Natalie didn’t just love flying planes, she loved flying through life. The freedom of it. She had definitely not been ready to put down roots. She was a pack-light-and-leave-complications-behind type of person. And his life had gotten complicated, at least in the time before cancer had won the battle.

  As much as he loved flying too, life-and-death situations had a way of making a person reevaluate their priorities. His mother had been his anchor. His mentor and guide after his father died. She used to help Carlos with his studies when he was younger, send him packages of the absolute best homemade chicken tamales when he couldn’t make it home for the holidays, and she had tried to coax him into going after Natalie if that’s what he wanted. His mom had been so unselfish. Always wanting him to be happy. But staying by her side and trying to help her survive the cancer battle had been all that mattered to him. She taught him the importance of family. He believed it down to his core. Her getting sick had simply reminded him that caring for and protecting people was what drove him and sometimes that was best done by putting down those roots and standing strong.

  “You need anything else from me before I go?” Jordan asked.

  “Get outta here. Say hi to Chanda for me and thank her again for the casserole she dropped off yesterday.”

  Chanda was Jordan’s much older sister who worked as an office manager at the vet clinic. She treated Carlos like one of the family and insisted on sending food over at least once a week. She also never failed to point out that he needed to find someone to grow old with. Carlos knew she meant well, but he hated it when folks took pity on anyone who was single. He saw absolutely nothing wrong with being single forever.

  “Will do. Later.” Jordan started to leave, but turned on his heel and motioned to the latest photo he’d printed and tacked on their board. “We had a few alerts come through overnight. One was an escaped convict, found two hours ago. That’s the other.” He pointed to a second photo underneath the first.

  Carlos got up and took a closer look at the printout.

  Those eyes.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE WIND HAD died down and the sun was out in full glory. It was in the upper forties and rising already—a lot warmer than the DC suburbs in February.

  Eve was right. Her place was hard to miss. Just as whimsical and vibrant as she was. The exterior was quaint with a gable over the door and clusters of ornamental grasses to each side. Colorful flowerpots were clustered here and there, though empty because of the season. The place wasn’t much bigger than a large apartment. Raised on stilts because of its proximity to the beach, it reminded Faye of a simpler version of the house illustrated for “the crooked man” nursery rhyme in one of Nim’s books handed down from Clara and Faye’s childhood collection. There were only two other houses she could spot nearby: a slightly larger white one with a fenced yard, about fifty yards down and across the road, and a green one with brown trim just beyond it. That one had a front porch facing the Atlantic.

  Faye carried the bag of groceries in one hand and clung to Nim’s hand as she made her way, shuffling at toddler pace, to the blue house with the bright yellow front door. She had Nim sit down at the base of the steps for a moment, then carried the duffel bag, followed by the playpen box, to the door. She set them down and hurried back to carry Nim up the stairs.

  The inside of Eve’s cottage was just as cute as the exterior. Her style was boho-chic with comfy chairs and lots of pillows. A macramé planter hung near a patio sliding door and her curtains looked like she’d fashioned them out of oversize, sheer mandala wall hangings. The console by the door was a plank of wood on top of legs made from stacks of books. Faye thought of the pile of books Nim had pulled down from the shelf at Castaway Books and wondered if the console legs and top were actually glued together. She was going to need to watch Nim like a hawk.

  “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

  She pulled out a box of Alpha-O’s cereal and a banana, then realizing they’d have to make do without a high chair, she rummaged for a bowl and set Nim in her lap at the table. The poor kid went at it. Faye used one hand to cut up the banana into small pieces and reached for a yogurt in the bag. She ripped the top off with her teeth and tried to offer Nim a spoonful. Nim grabbed the end of the spoon instead, getting yogurt all over her hand. She licked most of it off, then turned, smiled at her auntie and patted her goopy fingers on Faye’s cheek.

  “So, this is how it’s going to be, huh?”

  Nim went to reach for the cereal bowl and accidentally tipped it over. Little “O’s” scattered across the floor.

  Faye had based grocery shopping on the foods she’d seen her sister feed Nim.

  Apparently, some were messier than others...

  Nim stuffed her little fist in the yogurt container and sucked her knuckles, before “sharing” with Faye.

  And apparently, high chairs served a purpose.

  “I’m not so sure Eve’s going to want us staying here after she witnesses your lovely eating habits.”

  “Ma...ma.”

  Faye bit the corner of her lip and shook her head.

  “I’m Mama, okay? You’re Nim.”

  “Mama!” Nim’s eyes glistened and her chubby face quivered and crinkled up like a tight coil on the verge of springing loose. Heaven help her. No more crying. The sound tore her up inside. She couldn’t take seeing her niece upset, especially knowing that she was the one to blame. Well, at least in part. She was the kidnapper, even if Jim was the trigger.

  Oh, Clara. I wish I knew what exactly was going on. I wish you would have trusted me sooner.

  Faye drew her banana-and-yogurt-slathered niece against her chest and kissed the top of her red head. Her hair still smelled of earthy henna. Her squishy cheeks...of everything young, pure and innocent. Faye loved that baby scent as much as she loved the warm, cozy smell of puppies. She hated that little ones—of all species—were at the mercy of adult drama and bad behavior. She’d trained and groomed dogs that ended up in the middle of divorces. She’d met a lot of the kids, during pet drop-offs and pickups, who ended up right there with them...often getting separated from their pets in the process. She didn’t wish that kind of mess on anyone, but sometimes the upheaval was better than the unhealthy—or even dangerous—status quo. She’d sensed for a long time that there was something not right about her sister’s relationship with Jim. Faye could only hope the situation would be resolved with Clara and Mia r
eunited and safe. She gave that pudgy cheek another reassuring kiss.

  “I know, I know. I’ll find her. I’ll figure out what’s going on. I promise.”

  There had to be a computer around here somewhere. She scanned the living room that was no more than an extension of the breakfast area. Nothing techie. Not even a television set. Eve had to have a computer somewhere. Unless she kept everything work related at the shop and reserved her cottage for candles, throw pillows and mandala art work. Maybe the bedroom. That’s where a person was supposed to really unplug, but hey, Eve was never one to do what was expected.

  She wiped Nim’s hands with a damp paper towel, set her and what was left of the cereal on the floor and quickly assembled the playpen near the couch. She moved Nim into the pen, where she couldn’t get into trouble, then went to peek in the bedroom.

  “Bingo.”

  Never had the sight of a laptop given her such a sense of relief and control. Her life had been spinning ever since Clara’s plea. It still was, but being here in Eve’s cottage with a laptop in sight gave her a chance to catch her breath, regroup and possibly find a lead or clue as to what was going on with her sister.

  She shuffled over to the bed, her sock snagging on a chip in the old wood plank floor, and opened the laptop that lay at the foot of the bed next to a pile of red envelopes and Valentine’s cards. It was hard to ignore the long list of names handwritten on a sheet of paper next to the envelopes. Faye shook her head and gave both temples a quick rub. She sighed.

  “That is so like you, Eve. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  Eve was probably the only person who would give Valentine’s Day cards to everyone she knew, whether they were single, married, friends, the librarian or crossing guard. She even handed one to the grocery store checkout person back in college. Bless her heart. If Eve had a calling in life, it was to lift hearts and give people hope.

  Faye had never gone as far as to hand out Valentines to total strangers, but she did send cards with hearts and puppies on them to all of her canine clientele. That counted for a little good karma, didn’t it?

  She took the laptop, silently apologizing to Eve for borrowing it without asking first, and hurried back to find Nim still busy playing with cereal pieces in her pen. Faye set the computer on a clean spot at the coffee table.

  “I’ll find her, Nim.” She needed to practice saying the name as much as possible. Maybe that would keep her from slipping up, and it might get her niece used to it too.

  “Mi.”

  Or not.

  “Nim. It’s cute like you,” Faye said. The kid started crying and bouncing at the side of the playpen. Faye lifted her out and the crying stopped. “Okay. Play here instead.”

  She set her down next the table with a slobber-proof baby book and began searching for mental health facilities on the laptop. She narrowed the search down to places Jim would have been able to drive Clara to and still have had time to turn around and pick up Nim from whatever babysitting arrangements he’d made. Then she ignored the facilities limited to drug and alcohol addiction and focused on those which, based on their websites, looked like they admitted people for depression and anxiety. Her search results included a few related articles about admission procedures. In general, a person couldn’t be admitted for more than seventy-two hours against their will without a petition and court order to keep them longer, assuming they were a threat to themselves. Clara had been out of touch with her for days prior to her message. If Faye was interpreting the rule correctly, Clara wouldn’t be in a facility right now unless Jim had managed to use his connections to keep her there. She doubted her sister had checked herself in, not the way her voice had sounded. Clara would have called Faye back again if she was able to. If she was okay. The center websites all seemed to say that phone calls were allowed in most cases. Then why wouldn’t she have called? She’s not in rehab. He was lying.

  Faye pressed her hands to her eyes and tried to think. Yes, Jim had connections, but according to the internet, he hadn’t put out a warrant for her. At least she didn’t find any alerts. Not for her, or Mia. What if she went ahead and used a blocking code before dialing from Eve’s phone? Just a couple of calls to see if Clara was at any of the facilities or had been recently. What were the chances that anyone would be checking to see if Faye had called around looking for her sister? Jim valued reputation and privacy. He wouldn’t have told anyone if he’d admitted his wife. If he did put out a wanted alert on her, she’d end up having to leave Turtleback immediately. But she needed to find something—anything—on Clara’s whereabouts. She glanced at Nim. The girl stood up and started waddling over to the shelf where Eve had various objects on display, from shells to pottery and a few books.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Faye jumped up and grabbed her before any damage was done. Nim started crying. “Come on, sweetie. We need to find you some safer toys. Take my keys.”

  She plopped her back in the playpen with the keys, a wooden spoon from the kitchen and some plastic bowls. She had only bought a couple of actual toddler toys—a slobber-proof book with gadgets hanging from it and a stuffed, musical giraffe. Obviously not enough to keep Nim’s interest for long. She needed to get more toys, but the kitchen items and keys would have to do for now.

  “I just need a sec. We can play in a minute. Okay? Patty-cake? How about that?” she asked, trying to distract her. If Nim started crying, she’d have to hang up immediately.

  Nim lasted through two calls. According to the staff she spoke with, Clara wasn’t a patient at their facilities. She was lucky they’d shared that info. The fact that Faye had disclosed she was family had helped, though she figured if Clara was actually a patient of theirs, they might have been reluctant to share that information. She had to rock Nim to sleep before she could make any more calls. Same results. She cleared her search history, closed the laptop and slumped back on the couch. She knew deep down that Jim had to be lying. And lying meant he was hiding something.

  Clara was in trouble. Not the cause of trouble, as he’d implied. But if Eve was supposed to keep her niece safe and hidden and not trust anyone, her hands were tied. She had to lie low. Her stomach churned and she curled her head down against her knees, digging her fingers into her shins. There wasn’t anything she could do to help find her sister without Jim finding her. This was so frustrating. She had to make her little niece’s days feel normal, no matter how stressed out she was herself. Eve was right. Kids could sense tension. That poor little girl had probably been exposed to more stress than Clara realized. That was one thing she could try to mitigate. Get Nim to relax. Not let the situation leave a permanent mark on her. She reached into the playpen and caressed Nim’s baby-soft cheek. She looked so angelic sleeping there. So carefree.

  “You’ll be okay, sweetie. I’ll make sure of it.”

  * * *

  CARLOS USUALLY WAITED until afternoon before swinging by his place to check on Pepper. The girl had a doggy door and a fenced-in area, but he made a point of taking her for a walk and refilling her water bowl when nothing pressing was going on during his shift. He’d had a slow morning at work. Nothing but recognizing the photo Jordan had pointed out to him. The one of the man with one brown eye and one blue who had tried stealing sea turtle eggs from a protected nest on the beach last summer. The Outer Banks beaches, including Turtleback, were famous for their endangered sea turtle nesting grounds. The barrier reef was situated right along the turtle migration path, and the people around here took protecting the nests seriously. Apparently, the perpetrator had robbed a gas station up north in Duck recently. Some guys just didn’t learn. They broke the law with no conscience. They had no respect for honesty. No consideration for others.

  Witnessing how easily criminals lied or turned on their cohorts when given a plea bargain was disillusioning. It made time with his dog all the more precious. Dogs understood loyalty. They wore their truth on their sleeve...or paw.
They loved unconditionally.

  Natalie’s face flashed in his mind and he shook the image away. Where had that come from? Bitterness pooled in his stomach. He gave Pepper a solid scratch behind the ears and latched her leash onto her collar. It had to be because Valentine’s Day was creeping up on him. It brought back memories. Memories he didn’t care to entertain. Last year, he had spent the occasion watching thriller movies all evening. This year, unfortunately, he was on the schedule to work. That meant keeping an eye on things in town with the bonfire and all. It was a family-friendly event, but he knew he’d have to witness lovebirds flirting and snuggling and whispering promises they might never keep.

  He peered out one of the two windows that framed his front door. His gaze immediately shot down the street. Faye Potter. It was hard to miss the sun bouncing off that dark red hair. She was sitting on the top step to Eve’s house with her forehead resting in the palm of her hand. For someone just visiting a friend, she sure seemed bothered. Or maybe she was one of those people who didn’t know how to relax.

  She’s a mother. Out here on her own. Just like yours.

  He scratched at the twinge of guilt in his chest. He was judging the newcomer too quickly. If she was indeed a single mother dealing with a handful of a toddler, who was he to call her out on not relaxing? His own mother had barely taken time for herself. Everything she did was in the name of helping others or raising her son. And she never complained. She always claimed to be okay. Even when she found out she had cancer, she had been so upset with him when he told her he’d left the Air Force and was going to stay at home with her. She’d gotten downright angry, in fact accusing him of throwing away his life for nothing. But she wasn’t nothing. She was his mother. She got over it soon enough and he knew she appreciated his presence and help. He couldn’t have lived with himself had he not come home to help her.

  He gave Pepper’s leash a gentle tug.