Crime Times Two Read online

  He hesitated, glancing at his truck and then down the road. “Don’t you go to the library in Twin Lakes?”

  She certainly didn’t want to get into the details and waste any more time. “I did, but… It’s a long story. If you’re leaving, I’ll just figure something else out.”

  He took the office key off its ring and held it out. “Let’s just say I’m deputizing you for the next few hours.” A corner of his mouth twitched up. “The city clerk is out again today. It’d be helpful to have someone in the office.”

  She paused only a second and then reached for the key, her fingers brushing his. Meredith glanced down at the key, wondering if Curtis felt the same electric jolt she did at their touch. “Oh. If you’re sure. I don’t want to mess this class up. This means a lot to me.”

  He edged sideways toward his truck, stumbling slightly. She recalled his nickname of “Barney,” named after a bumbling sheriff’s deputy on an old TV show. It was a bit endearing, but he hated the nickname. “Barney” smacked of disrespect for him and his position in the community as an authority figure, he explained once.

  He spoke in a rush now as he got into the truck. “I know your class is important. That’s why I’m doing this, even though it’s probably breaking a dozen rules. The computer password’s under the keyboard. If I’m not back by the time you leave, just put the key under the mat.”

  She watched him. She couldn’t help admiring how well his blue jeans fit his chiseled physique, his wide shoulders and the light stubble he left on his face. This man couldn’t be more different than the man she’d married nearly six years ago. Hay City’s sheriff was easygoing, humble, and open where Brian, when not outright angry, ranged from secretive to irritable. Disappointed that Curtis was leaving to take a call, she realized she'd been hoping he would remain in the office while she completed her homework.

  Afterward, she’d imagined they would chat a bit, maybe have a quick cup of coffee together before she needed to race to Blissful to pick up Jamie from school. She could even tell him about the man at the library and his crazy talk about a wife who wanted to kill him. Curtis would know how to handle the situation and might even go up the mountain and talk with the fellow.

  He rolled down his window and leaned his head out. “You sure everything’s okay?”

  Nodding, she tried to hide her disappointment. She needed to keep her focus on what was important. Right now, her priorities were school, figuring out how to pay expenses, and giving her kids a stable home. There wasn’t room in her life for anything, or anyone, else. Not the problems of a stranger from the library and not ideas about an uncertain romance with the man in front of her now.

  Curtis backed the truck out, his head still partially out the window. “Up for a hike this weekend?”

  Her heart flip-flopped, disappointment evaporated. A person couldn’t be expected to do nothing but work, could they? She smiled her answer at him and his truck raced off, siren flashing on top of the roof, down the road to milepost thirty-seven.

  Chapter Four

  “I don’t think so.”

  Jamie stood with hands on hips, feet planted firmly on the floor. It was Saturday and Meredith rose early, awakened by the rooster crowing in the shed. A long ago gift from Honey, Jamie’s pet chick, 'Laf' now sprouted long tail feathers and refused to shirk his daily duty of greeting the dawn as loudly as possible. She spent the morning on a cleaning binge, scrubbing floors and counters, doing laundry, and changing linens. She pawed through Atticus and Jamie’s clothes drawers and closets, putting items they’d outgrown in a heaping pile. By the time she was done, there was more in the pile than in their closets. Her children grew so fast and none of the previous year’s winter clothes would fit.

  “Yes,” she insisted. “You two need new clothes. We need to go shopping.”

  Jamie shook her head, dark curls bouncing in all directions. “I don’t think so,” she said again, her tone firm and final. This was her daughter’s latest phrase. It seemed as though everything Meredith said, Jamie responded with, “I don’t think so.” Her daughter spoke in such a decisive way, she had to remind herself the words emanated from the mouth of a five-year-old.

  “I suppose I could just sew new clothes out of blankets off your bed.” She affected an unconcerned expression. “Then, everything would match.”

  Jamie studied her, clearly trying to decide if her mother was serious. “You can’t sew.”

  “I know.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Your clothes won’t be too fashionable, but they’ll be warm, I suppose. You can tell your friend Karin all about it. What do you say, Atticus?”

  Her son peered up, then back down at the toys he and Jamie played with, marching them across the room and then back again in a doll and car parade. Jamie taught Atticus to line them up in different combinations: first by height, then color, then by their favorites. Meredith enjoyed listening to Jamie patiently teach her younger brother how to sort and organize their toys. While Jamie held little patience for the world, she contained an endless supply for her brother.

  “No!” he answered, displaying the newest word in his growing vocabulary. “No!”

  “I have an idea. You go to the store,” Jamie offered. “Me and Atticus’ll go to Honey’s house.”

  She shook her head. She’d imposed too much on the woman already. “I need you two with me, to make sure the clothes fit. Anyway, don’t you want to pick out your own clothes?”

  “No,” muttered Atticus, and she picked him up, laughing.

  “Do you even know what you’re saying?” she asked him.

  “No,” he said, giving her a grave stare. “No.”

  Though outnumbered, she was the adult, and this little fact made her the boss. The trick, however, was to get two unwilling children to the store and through a shopping trip without having a mental breakdown. She settled for the oldest strategy in the book. Bribery.

  “Greasy grimy fast food burgers for dinner. If you’re good.”

  Jamie’s eyes brightened at the offer. “I want a chocolate shake.” Her defiant pose softened, her hands dropping from her hips. “And fries.”

  Meredith pretended to consider this before making a show of agreeing to her daughter’s terms. She held out her hand and they shook on the deal.

  ****

  As anyone with a five-year-old would know, bargains break down quickly. By the time they returned from Mountain Home, the sun low in the sky, all three were simmering with anger and resentment. Still, Meredith was determined and a pile of sweaters and pants, socks and shoes filled the backseat of the car. She sincerely hoped she purchased enough for her kids to last through the long Idaho winter.

  Even though she was conscious of every penny spent, it was a relief to know there’d been enough money in the bank to adequately clothe her children. Food, shelter, clothes. She’d known little enough of all three in her life. It was one more thing to be thankful to Hay City for—there was nowhere else they could live where money would stretch this far.

  She let her kids play in the bath until the bubbles melted away and the water turned tepid. She sat on the floor next to the tub, holding her book about meditation on her lap, and breathed in the warm steam filling the room.

  As she toweled off Jamie and Atticus and helped them into pajamas, she pointed out their wrinkled fingers and toes, making them laugh.

  “Why don’t my knees wrinkle too?” Jamie asked.

  “I guess maybe they would if you stayed in the tub any longer,” she said, wondering if she’d been as inquisitive a child.

  Jamie threw her arms around Meredith’s neck. “I love you, Mommy. Thank you for the burger and shake.”

  Meredith almost gasped in surprised delight. Her daughter was either storm or sunshine, each powerful enough to rock her back on her heels. “I love you too, sweetie.” She hugged Jamie tight in her arms and then drew Atticus into the hug as well. “And you’re welcome.”

  “I love you,” she whispered later to each of the
m as she tucked them into bed, leaning over to kiss their foreheads.

  There was nothing more exhausting than having children, she thought. But having them also gave her the strength to keep going when she got discouraged, to keep pursuing her dream of a college degree and to better all of their lives. As difficult as her life had been so far, she wouldn’t change places with anyone.

  ****

  “There’s this thing called mail order,” Curtis said. “Ever hear of Amazon?”

  Meredith shot him a dark look. She had just related her misadventures the day before in shopping with her kids. “Yeah,” she quipped. “Powerful women who dominate their men.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. They were walking along a wide trail winding up into the foothills above the valley. He stopped by in the morning, suggesting a trail up the mountain and the three of them tied on shoes, still somewhat nursing grudges against one another from the difficult day before.

  The ground was damp but far from muddy, drying quickly as the sun rose higher in the sky. From the trail, there was a view of the valley below and lush green mountains rising far on the other side. Above, snow already coated the topmost peaks. Down below, farm equipment was parked for the winter, fields were harvested and empty, and there was the small cluster of structures marking Hay City. Not long ago, she would have said the rural scene was a view of nothing; her perspective was one of a city person craving the bustle of roads, buildings, and people. Now, her mindset was changed. There was so much to take in; she could stare out at this vista forever and never truly see it all.

  Curtis picked up a rock and hurled the stone far into the ravine next to the trail. “Mail order would save you a lot of grief. And time. Mail order’s how a lot of people out here shop. We’re just too far out to keep going into a city.”

  She turned away from the view and continued up the trail. “It makes sense, but I don’t want to buy things using the library computer. I’ve heard that’s not safe.”

  He nodded his agreement and they walked on for another minute. She didn’t offer that she didn’t have a credit card, and doubted she’d be approved for one. Money in her savings account dwindled more quickly than expected. A property tax bill had just arrived, swallowing a significant portion of her account and leaving her in tears. At this rate, she’d be in a serious financial crisis by spring. Money only stretched so far, no matter where you lived. She couldn’t tell him any of this though. Pity wasn’t an emotion she wanted to spark.

  Jamie and Atticus trailed behind them, stopping and examining rocks, leaves, bugs and a hundred other things in their path. A hawk circled high above searching for its next meal.

  Curtis spoke a few moments later, avoiding her gaze. “You could use my computer, at my house. To shop online. For classes too, if you want. I mean, if you trust the local sheriff.”

  She glanced over at him, but he was busy studying a pine tree. It was just a run-of-the-mill pine tree and she had the feeling he didn’t want to look at her just then. She’d never been inside his house, although he’d been in her house several times during the investigation of Brian’s murder and numerous times since then.

  His house was tiny: one bedroom, a living room and kitchen all compactly fit on a sizable plot of land, an acre or more, adjacent to his parents’ property. He’d told her he designed and built the structure himself, laboring alongside his father during the evenings and on weekends.

  Somehow, because of this, being invited into the house seemed more intimate, an invitation to advance things further between the two of them. His parents lived within waving distance. What would they think about her showing up twice a week, disappearing behind the front door for an hour or more? What would Curtis think? Or am I making too much of this, she wondered. Maybe it was just a simple friendly offer.

  She fought to keep her tone noncommittal. “Maybe I’ll give that a try. It’s nice of you.”

  Keeping things at “just friends” was more effort than she expected. She found herself torn between her attraction toward him and wariness about falling too quickly into another relationship. Her marriage to Brian was dreadful; she’d wished with all her heart he would disappear, right up to the moment he was murdered. Since then, she’d been assailed by a range of emotions from grief to regret to fury. More often now, she experienced an overwhelming sense of relief, a sentiment leaving her feeling guilty and ashamed.

  Surely, rushing into another relationship so soon could only be disastrous for both of them. After all, what kind of man would want to get involved with a woman who wished her husband gone? What kind of woman fantasizes about murdering her husband?

  Maybe this kind sheriff is just being a friend, she cautioned herself. Maybe he has his own issues to battle. Once, he’d mentioned a previous girlfriend, one who eventually married someone else. There was no question he was attracted to her, but it was also possible he wasn’t over the earlier love. They’d been dancing carefully around each other for months, each worried about getting too close.

  One day at a time, she breathed. Take life one day at a time.

  Her book on meditation talked a lot about “living in the moment” so she forced those anxieties away. She inhaled deeply and decided autumn was her favorite time of year in Idaho. While the pines maintained a deep forest green, the underbrush sprang alive to the cooler evening temperatures. Their leaves changed to various brilliant shades of flame, orange and gold almost overnight. The occasional aspen could be seen in the hills with white branches amid their brilliant yellow coats, contrasting sharply with the lodgepole, larch and ponderosa pines. The afternoon sun lit up the aspens and gave them a golden glow as their leaves trembled and shimmered in the slightest breeze.

  “I can’t get over how beautiful it is out here.” Meredith sighed. “I had no idea there was so much…so much…space in the world. All these trees and mountains. Idaho seems to go on forever.”

  Curtis chuckled. “I wasn’t sure you liked it so much, way out here in the wild west.” He glanced sideways at her. “This is probably much quieter than what you’re used to. I wasn’t sure you’d stay.”

  “I wasn’t sure either,” she admitted.

  So often, after Brian first relocated them to Hay City, she felt desperate to leave. Home had been a big city in California and the city held everything familiar to her. Traffic, the sounds of people and activity everywhere, the comforting buzz and clatter of neighbors just on the other side of an apartment wall. It’d taken a while to warm up to Idaho. These days, it was the city that seemed so distant and strange.

  He bent down and picked up another rock, casting it farther up the trail. It bounced and tumbled along the path. “Are you feeling more sure now?”

  His question hung there for a moment, and she wondered if there was more behind his query.

  “I have a house and friends here,” she said warmly. “There’s been a lack of both in my life and I don’t want to lose them now. My kids seem happy, despite everything.”

  He clearly wanted her to say more. She stopped and faced him. Blood rushed to her face. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for us. For me.”

  His gaze burned into her, his voice low. “Meredith. I don’t need thanks. I’m here for you and—”

  Jamie’s shout startled them. “Mom! Look!”

  Her daughter jumped up and down and pointed to where a herd of elk stepped into a clearing across a wide ravine. Fourteen of the stately creatures bowed their necks to the tall yellowed grass in the foothills, occasionally lifting their heads to listen and watch their surroundings for danger.

  Meredith was stunned at the sight and surprised at the awe the large animals inspired. “They’re beautiful.”

  The corners of Curtis’s eyes crinkled upward. “The snow up higher gets them moving around. You’ll see some in the valley now. This time of year, the animals start moving about; predators too, so keep an eye on your rabbit and chicken.”

  The mention of predators made her recall a recent s
uggestion of Honey’s, that she get a firearm to protect her property. It made her realize she was in charge of the lives of two young children, a rooster and a pregnant rabbit. “What kind of predators?”

  “Fox, coyote; mountain lions. There was a wolf sighting this time last year. When the game gets bigger, the predators get bigger. Black bear sometimes.”

  She was a city girl, unused to wild things roaming the world. It wasn’t as though California didn’t have bears, coyotes, and mountain lions, but those creatures stayed clear of side-walked streets and Laundromats. The word “predator” in the city usually referred to the human kind. Jamie softly counted aloud the elk on the mountainside over and over. Sometimes she counted twelve, sometimes fourteen. She edged closer. “Where do they sleep at night?”

  “They live outside,” Curtis explained in a gentle voice. “They know how to find their own shelter.” He pointed farther up the trail. “Let’s keep going and see what else is moving around today.”

  The day had grown crisp and clouds gathered above, blocking the afternoon sun. Jamie and Atticus were having a wonderful time, and Meredith didn’t want the day to end, even as she rubbed the chill from her arms. They strolled at an easy pace up the trail, letting Jamie hunt for more elk while Atticus did his best to keep up with his energetic sister.

  There was a chiming sound, and Curtis patted his pockets for his phone. He walked a few steps away and spoke in a low voice into the handset.

  Jamie was peering into a bush. “Mom! I want to pick huckleberries.”

  Meredith nodded absently, her gaze straying to Curtis, watching as he talked into his phone with a frown on his face. At times, he seemed even younger than her and awkward. He’d earned the moniker of a bumbling “Barney” when he first started the job, but he was smarter than that. Although they were near the same age, he seemed so much older than her, competent and at ease in the adult world while she still sometimes felt like a child pretending to be a grown up. Is there a moment when I’ll finally feel like a real adult?