Fated Hearts (4 page)

“We’ll see.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

The car wasn’t quiet. It couldn’t be with the music blaring. But they didn’t speak as they neared the town. Henley could see the tops of the buildings growing larger. And the not-silence in the car killed her.

“What do you think you know? At this point?”

Maggie laughed. “Do you play poker?”

“What?”

“Do you play poker?”

“Yes. But I’m not good.”

“I am.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not telling you bupkis. And we’re here.”

“I’m not sure I like you anymore.”

“One, you’re not the first person to say that. Two, you’re not the first person who didn’t mean it either. Come on, let’s see about your car.”

• • •

“Hey there, handsome.”

Carter turned, the smile already in place, and pulled Maggie in for a hug instead of returning the greeting. He’d seen her car parked outside Al’s Auto Repair when he’d exited the building that housed his office, dispatch, and three-cell jail, so he wasn’t surprised to run into her. He was surprised she was alone. He’d expected Henley to be with her.

“How’s tricks?” she asked.

“Not many of those being turned in this town. Least not that I’ve seen.”

“The whores and pimps are sneakier here than they are in Philly.” She winked. “They’re going to make you work for it.”

“What do you know about whores and pimps?”

“I used to work the crime beat. Before the tabloids.” She made an unhappy face.

“Hey, Mags, Aidan catches you making that face, he’ll think I upset you, and I’ll have to arrest your soul mate for assaulting an officer.” She grinned because it wasn’t much of an exaggeration. And they both knew it. “Plus, I thought you enjoyed writing your books and all the crazy success you’ve earned?”

“I do. I let a bad memory rain on my parade.” She waved a hand in the air. “And now that’s gone.”

“Good.” Carter glanced back at her car. “Where’s your tenant?”

“Henley? Trying to negotiate a lower price on the repairs to her Pontiac. Poor baby will have to face the fact she needs a new car sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I’m going to convince Aidan to let her use the farm’s truck.” Carter scoffed, and Maggie punched him in the arm. “I’m going with ‘if she can’t work, she can’t pay rent.’ It’s an argument he can’t refute.”

“Moving her out of the cabin is exactly how he’s going to refute it.”

Now Maggie scoffed. “I’ve already won that argument. He doesn’t know it yet.” Maggie considered him. “How did you know Henley is staying in the cabin?”

“Hmm?”
Shit
.

“You heard me.”

He pretended something across the street had caught his attention. Maggie was tenacious, like a dog with a bone. Proud and stubborn, she wouldn’t appreciate Aidan second-guessing her decisions or calling in a favor. And she wasn’t above shooting the messenger. He kept his eyes trained on the distance and hoped she’d let it go.
I should know better.

“Carter Andrew McAlister. I can make your life a living hell as easily now as I did when we were twelve. One call to the East Coast and a suggestion to your mother that you’re not eating right … ” Maggie let her voice trail.

“Uncle. Uncle. Jesus, Mags, you fight dirty, ya know that?”

“I fight to win. And you taught me how. Now spill.”

“Your husband might have called me last night and asked me to check up on Ms. Elliott, seeing as how you’d decided to rent her the cabin without running her credit or doing a Google search.”

“Asshole,” she ground out in a low voice. Carter was fairly confident she meant the slur for Aidan and not him. But since he knew Maggie could throw a decent punch, he wasn’t risking it and kept his mouth shut. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Run a check on her.”

“Well, I went past the cabin this morning. I introduced myself. She wasn’t what I would call friendly, considering she greeted Dublin and I with a baseball bat. She relaxed, somewhat, until I asked friendly questions about her plans. That put her back on edge.” He paused. “I, on the other hand, was very neighborly. My mother would be proud. I offered her a job, gave her my information, and left.”

“Did you run her?”

“Yeah, I ran her.” He sighed. “No wants or warrants, federal or local. I didn’t go any deeper than that because I didn’t see any reason. Far as I can tell, she’s a woman traveling alone who wants to be left alone. And who doesn’t particularly like your old man.”

“I’m not worried about that. My husband is an acquired taste, and I prefer him that way. I do think she’s running or hiding from something, probably someone. A man. Henley is comfortable with me and Tala. Funny. Talkative. Warm. She lets things slip. Like that she’s a licensed psychiatrist, a doctor, well educated, well versed in classical music. But she’s living out of her car and hotels with no family, no home? That doesn’t make sense, Carter. Unless she’s on the run, and you said it’s not from the law. As soon as Aidan got home, her guard rose. And he hadn’t made an ass of himself yet. Of course, he didn’t waste any time, and his attitude made it worse.

“Plus you said Henley gave you and Dublin a hard time? No one gives you a hard time. You’re like a sneaky puma. Everyone thinks you’re a pussycat, and then you pounce like a lethal jungle cat. Don’t laugh—all the guys you put away in Philly would agree with me. They thought you were a pushover until they were on the ground, bleeding and cuffed. And women fall at your feet once they get a look at your baby blues. I think she’s scared. I think she needs help, and I want to help her. I feel like I’m supposed to; Aidan, too, whether he likes it or not.” Maggie put her hand on his arm. “And you, especially, can help. It’s what you do; it’s who you are.”

“No, Mags. It’s who I was. Now I’m a small-town sheriff. I drive Johnnie Carson’s pickup when he’s loaded. I break up squabbles at the Piggly Wiggly. That’s what I signed on for. That’s it.” He couldn’t help the cold prick of anxiety that slid between his shoulder blades any more than he could shake the foul taste of self-disgust gathering in the back of his throat. Justin wouldn’t recognize him. And that thought shamed him more than the pity he recognized in Maggie’s hazel eyes.

“Ugh. It’s going to cost both arms and a leg.” Henley’s frustrated statement announced her arrival. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No. Not at all. Bad news?” Maggie asked.

“Not if you have a currency press on that ranch of yours.”

“Counterfeiting is illegal even in the Cove.” Carter faked a frown. And chuckled when Henley scowled at him.
Wow, no sense of humor at all.

“You were right, Al’s a sweetheart. He’s willing to do the work as soon as I pay for the parts, and he’ll let me pay off the labor over time. But still, it’s going to take me months to cover these repairs.”

“Now what?”

Henley glanced at Carter. “You mentioned a dispatcher position at the sheriff’s office earlier. What does that entail?”

“Monday through Friday every other week; Tuesday through Saturday on the alternate weeks. Fridays and Saturdays are evening shifts; the rest are day shifts. It’s an eight-hour day, and you get an hour unpaid for lunch. It pays fifteen dollars per hour.” He stuck his hands in his back pockets. “The Cove doesn’t have a traditional 911 hotline. If someone has an emergency they call the sheriff’s department, and the dispatcher forwards the call. There aren’t a lot of calls. The dispatcher is also responsible for filing and other secretarial work. Otherwise, you’d be bored sitting there waiting for the phone to ring.”

“I’ll take it.”

That was unexpected. He’d had the distinct impression that morning that she’d be more interested in shoveling shit than working in his office. She really loved that car. Or was just in that much of a hurry to get out of here. Definitely mysterious. Pity for her that he adored a good riddle.

“Stop by whenever to fill out the employment forms, and you can start Monday morning at ten.”

Henley nodded, hesitated, and held out her hand. Carter smiled and gripped her fingers in his. A tingle started in his fingertips and shot up his arm. She pulled her hand free. His grin fell as he sucked air in through his teeth. The tingling ceased as she rubbed her forearm.

“What was that?” he asked.

“What was what?” Henley’s expression was blank. The hand that had been rubbing her arm now hung at her side. But Carter knew she lied. She had felt it too.

“What’s going on?” Maggie demanded.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “We’ll see you Monday.”

Henley nodded.

“I’ll leave word with all the deputies, so if I’m not in the office when you come in to fill out the forms, anyone can help you. And if you need a ride, call the office. Someone can pick you up and drop you off for your shifts.”

“Is that standard?”

“They always did it for Teague’s wife. Paula refused to get her driver’s license for over fifty years. When they moved to Florida, the department of motor vehicles there declared Teague’s eyesight too far gone. Paula got her license and racked up three speeding tickets in the first thirty days.”

Maggie laughed. “Makes you wonder if she wouldn’t drive herself, or if Teague knew better than to let her behind the wheel.”

“Thank you.” Henley’s polite smile didn’t reach her eyes. He didn’t attempt another handshake.

Carter didn’t miss the curiosity evident in Maggie’s expression when they hugged goodbye. He hoped she understood the dismissal in his. He couldn’t explain to her what he didn’t understand himself.
Crap on a cracker.
Mags is going to be a real pain in the ass on this.

He could see Henley become more vibrant and animated as the women walked away and the chasm between them widened. Maggie could be right—it could be Henley’s problem was with men. Could be she didn’t like him. That thing, whatever it was, when they shook hands, was weird. This was a woman with secrets. He’d do well to stay away from her.

But he’d just hired her to work in his office.

“When a call comes through, you have to check the duty roster, which will be on this clipboard here.” The deputy—Henley thought he said his name was Doug—tapped a clipboard where it dangled from a hook on the wall behind her new desk and set it swaying side to side. “There’s another copy on the sheriff’s blotter. And he has one on his person too. Well, not like in his pocket. I figure it’s in his Jeep when he’s on patrol or tacked to his fridge when he isn’t.”

“Well, Deputy Roman, that does make sense.”

“Please, please, call me Doug.” He beamed. Henley figured he was maybe twenty-two. Maybe. She grinned. And he did the impossible. Deputy Doug blushed. “Anyway, as I was saying, you check the duty roster. There are always two officers on duty: one here and one on patrol, unless we’re already on a call. When we are, we check in with you, and you keep track of it in the log.” He pointed to the spiral notebook on which someone had used a black magic marker to print LOG. “Between the duty roster and the log, you determine who is closest and contact that officer—on the radio, if necessary—and give the officer the information you collected. And when you sign off, you record their expected location and all details of the call on this form here.”

Doug smiled. “Are you still with me?”

“Yes. I think it sounds more complicated than it is. Regardless, you’re good at explaining and patient, too. Thank you.” Henley grinned. “I bet after a couple days I’ll have the hang of it.”

“Oh yeah, once you do it a few times, it gets to be routine. And if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.” He sat on the edge of the desk—would the boy move along or would she have to give him a gentle shove? “On your lunch break, or any time you need to, um, you know, stretch your legs”—he gave her a significant look—“whoever is here with you will cover the phone.”

“And if I’m alone?”

“You forward the calls to me until you’re available again.” Carter’s voice startled her. She didn’t jump, but try as she might she couldn’t stop her spine from straightening. He made her uncomfortable. “And when your shift is over, I’m dispatcher. All calls get forwarded to me until you’re on shift again.”

“That must be inconvenient.”

The too-handsome man shrugged as he moved from the doorway and crossed the room. He settled behind the desk she already knew to be his from the tour Doug had given her. The office was basically a large room filled with desks, chairs, and filing cabinets. There was a kitchen, bathroom, a small room filled with boxes and a cot for overnight shifts, an interview room, and a room for processing “perps.” Henley had chewed her tongue to keep from laughing at Doug’s solemn use of the term. The rest of the first floor contained three clean, empty cells that were far more spacious than the tiny room the officers shared when they worked the graveyard shift.

Carter hung his hat and windbreaker on the coatrack. He slung his shoulder holster on the back of the chair, rolled back the seat, and sat. “Teague was sheriff, and his wife was dispatcher; I guess they didn’t mind having the calls routed home. It’s a system everyone here is comfortable with, so we kept it that way. Trappers’ Cove isn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal activity.”

“You’ll have a lot of down time.” Doug nodded. “Mrs. Teague liked to knit.”

“I hope that’s not a job requirement. I’ve never so much as touched a ball of yarn.” Deputy Doug laughed, way harder than necessary, and glanced over at his boss. Carter gave the younger man an arched look. The deputy stood, straightened his uniform, and cleared his throat.

“Well, now that the sheriff is in from patrol, it’s my turn.” He retrieved his hat and firearm, nodding to them both. “I’ll see you later, Miss Elliott. It was a pleasure.”

“Thank you for showing me around this morning. And please, call me Henley.”

Doug blushed and hurried out the door. The silence was awkward and heavy in a room that suddenly felt small. She shuffled the papers around on the desk and then decided to check the contents of the drawers. They were a mess. She doubted Paula Teague had kept her desk this cluttered; it was probably the result of the sheriff and his team taking turns acting as dispatch. Her first act in her new job would be to make her desk a functional working space. She would check the supplies while restocking whatever stationery she may need. Doug had explained that ordering all supplies, including bullets, pens, toilet paper, and coffee grounds, fell under her purview.