Deep Freeze (West Coast 1) - Page 74

“Well, let’s just say…a trial,” she admitted, swiping at the counter with a towel.

“But worth it?”

“Absolutely. Ya gotta take the bad with the good.” She opened a cupboard and saw the travel mug she was looking for about two shelves out of her reach. Leaning against the counter, she stood on tiptoe and stretched, but her fingers barely brushed the bottom of the shelf. Jumping was out of the question, but she hoisted herself agilely onto the counter and was twisting around when he stepped closer.

“Here. Let me get it.” He was in front of her before she had time to scoot away. Suddenly she was pinned by the sheer presence of the man, her legs dangling close to his hips. He smelled of the outdoors and faintly of tobacco and some kind of aftershave, but she only got a whiff as his fingers wrapped around the mug in question. “This what you want?” His face was close to hers, near enough that she saw the striations of gold in his brown irises, noticed that a few rebellious gray hairs dared appear in his dark moustache.

“Uh-huh,” she managed to say.

“Anything else?” He handed the mug to her.

“That’ll do.”

He backed away then, and she felt as if she could finally draw a breath. More flustered than she wanted to admit, she hopped off the smooth tiles, poured the coffee, and screwed on the cap, before saying, “Oh…what about sugar or cream?”

“Black’s fine.” His cell phone beeped and he snagged it from his pocket. “Carter,” he said, his gaze grazing hers for a second. “What?” The skin over his face tightened, lips folding over his teeth. “Where?” he asked, and listened hard as coffee continued to drizzle into the pot. “Okay. I’ll be there in half an hour…meanwhile, hold the kids that were up at Catwalk Point at the station until I get there to talk to them…I don’t care where. Isn’t there a free cell? If not, the drunk tank…yeah, let them get to know the regulars. See if that scares some sense into them.” He snapped off his cell and offered her a quick, humorless smile. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be in touch. I haven’t heard back from the lab about the note you received, but I’ll call today.

Put some pressure on them. I assume you haven’t had any more trouble?”

“Other than Cassie? No.”

His smile was a flash. “Double-check your alarm system. Make sure it’s working. And the gate. Why’s it open?” he asked, pointing his chin at the kitchen window from which Jenna saw the entrance to her premises.

“Broken,” she admitted. Beneath the security lamps the double iron gates, mounted on pillars wrapped in rock, were flung open and packed with snow and ice, immobile. “It’s the electronic lock. Broken. Again. I’ve had it fixed twice.” She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know what it is with me—bad karma, I guess. Everything mechanical or electrical around here is on the fritz.”

“Need help? I know some people around town who might be able to fix the alarm and the gate and even install cameras or whatever you want.” The small lines etching his forehead deepened as he added, “Of course, with the storm and power outages, most of the electricians are working around the clock. You’d be lucky to get someone before the spring thaw.”

“I know. But I think I’ve got a couple of people who’ve offered to help.”

“Good.” He glanced down at Critter and the old dog finally wagged his tail as he crept from beneath a cane-seated chair. “Yeah, a fine lotta guard dog you are,” Carter said, patting Critter’s head.

“I’m not replacing him.” She handed Carter the travel mug. One side of the sheriff’s mouth lifted.

“I guess I wouldn’t, either,” he said, then lifted the cup toward Jenna. “I’ll get this back to you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Motioning to the high cupboard where she kept a few odds and ends she never used, she added, “You can see how much I was using it.”

“Okay. Good night, or maybe I should say, good morning, then.” He took a sip, then headed out the back door. “Make sure you lock up behind me.”

Jenna did just that, bolting the door and watching through the kitchen window as Shane Carter walked briskly through the breezeway, then followed his own trail of broken snow to his Blazer. A few seconds later he drove off, lifting a hand as he passed the house.

She waved back automatically and didn’t move until the red glow of his taillights had passed through the main gate and disappeared into the gloom.

Jenna shivered and felt more alone than she had since moving to Falls Crossing. It was still pitch-dark outside, no glow of dawn illuminating the eastern sky.

Just the cold, dark morning.

CHAPTER 20

“So you know what they say about the plumber’s faucet always leaking,” BJ grumbled the next morning. She looked tired. Bags appeared beneath her eyes, her hair was unruly, and her shoulders slumped. An aura of allover weariness accompanied her. “I guess it works for cops, too. Their kids don’t obey the law. Or at least mine doesn’t.” Disgustedly, she flung herself into the side chair at Shane’s desk.

“Maybe it’s a good thing Megan got caught while she’s still underage.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that? You don’t think this is just the beginning?” BJ’s usually animated expression was flat and exasperated, the corners of her mouth pinched with worry. “You know, if I could send her off to military school, I would.”

“Don’t you think you’re jumping off the deep end?”

“Diving in it. Wallowing in it. Drowning in it.” BJ leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. “Lord give me strength.”

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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