Genesis: A Harte's Peak Prequel (11 page)

“You didn't see the look on Jack's face. Let alone Ryan, who looked like he would burst out laughing at any second.”

“Forget about Ryan. Anyone knows you're an overzealous mom, not some kind of criminal. Take it easy.”

Overzealous mom. Is that what I've become?
“And by the way, I saw Lexi with Anton, and they are definitely more than friends.”

“Boyfriend or not, Lexi made one mistake. She's a good kid deep down, and you can trust her.”

Spoken by a woman who didn't have children. “Oh, sure, I can trust her. In the same way my mother could trust me? You mean in that way?”

Vera put her hand on Maggie's shoulder. “Deep breath.”

But then the glass door to the café opened, and Jack strode in alone. That uniform—the gun holstered near his slim hips, the whole cop look—did nothing but good things for him, and Maggie's heart raced into overdrive.

Good friend that she was, Vera stepped forward from behind the counter, finger pointed.

“Now listen, Jack Butler. Maggie didn't do anything wrong. So if you're here to tell her so, I'd like to know what Penal Code she violated. Overprotective Mom Code 101?” Hands thrust on her waist, Vera tossed her pale blonde hair to the side. If she wasn't Maggie's best friend, she might just have to hate her for being so beautiful.

“No violation,” Jack said. “I just want to talk to my neighbor. If that's OK with you, of course.”

Vera stepped aside. “You can ask her.”

“Can we have a seat, Maggie?” Jack gestured toward one of the empty tables.

Maggie let out a breath and took a seat. “Are you going to write me a ticket or lecture me?”

He took a chair across from her. “Neither. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“Not unless you count being clueless.”

The first real smile she'd seen on him covered his face.
Wow. I was right about that. Devastating.
“We get one silly call a day, usually from people who are bored. This is not the first time someone has called in a report that turned out to be false.”

“So why are you here?”

“I feel like I should apologize.” His blue eyes were warm and inviting.

“You? To me?”

“I left you hanging about Anton, and you must be curious. I should have taken the time to explain and not leave you to your imagination. I see you let it get the best of you.”

“That's probably true.” And though she was still curious about that, Anton could have been the pastor's son and she would have still been anxious about this situation.

“So ask me whatever you want to know.” He put both hands down on the table.

“Really?”

“Go ahead.”

“How did you know where Anton lived without asking?”

“A couple of reasons. And this is just between us. Anton's father is Attorney Tim Whitman.”

“The defense attorney?” She'd just seen him on television last week, defending a young woman accused of murdering her child.

“Yes, his family lives here and so does Tim when he's not flying all over the state to defend his clients.” Jack's lips were a thin straight line.

No love lost between him and Mr. Whitman.

“What does this have to do with Anton?”

“When Tim's in town we get called to the house often by the neighbors for noise complaints, domestic disturbances.”

“You said there was another reason.”

“Ah, well, Anton fancies himself to be quite the artist. With a spray paint bottle.”

“Oh.” Maggie's heart dropped. This wouldn't have been her first choice for a boyfriend for Lexi, because her first choice was no boyfriend at all. This wasn't happening. She'd make sure of it.

“Actually, Anton's not the worst kid I've met in town. I guess that's small comfort, but it's true, and there's the fact that his home life is less than ideal.”

“Has he made restitution for his art work?”

“His dad takes care of that.” Jack smirked. “Mostly because he has no choice if he wants to avoid having his son work it off with community service. Most of the kids working community service hours off are pretty troubled. It wouldn't do to have his kid mixing with that crowd, I'm guessing.”

“I knew this would be a roller coaster, but I didn't know this particular ride would start so soon. I am so not ready for this.” She couldn't help but hold her head between her hands.

“Yeah. I could tell.” His mouth twisted as though holding back another one of those smiles.

Please don't hold back. Not on my account.

“She's too young for a boyfriend. I won't have it.” Maybe the thing to do was put her foot down and be extremely strict with Lexi since she'd never tried that approach. Lexi had always been a good kid until recently.

“I'll keep an eye out for Lexi. I promise you that.”

“You've already tried to help. You talked to Lexi like I asked you to and she repaid you by—well, you know.” She feared what might come next if he tried to help.

“It's not a problem.”

“I wouldn't blame you if you wanted nothing to do with either one of us,” Maggie said.

Jack cocked his head. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Why?”

It amazed her that he didn't realize. But then he was probably used to difficult kids, something she had no experience with before. Thanks to Lexi, she was becoming an expert. “You really have to ask that? After the cigar?”

“I did get it back.”

“But she still has to pay restitution. I'm sending Lexi over soon so you can teach her how to mow your lawn.”

“It's really not necessary.”

“Yes it is. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I didn't believe you right away. I've been told that I always want to see the best in people. Especially my daughter.”

“There's nothing wrong with hoping for the best in people. Maybe the world needs more people like you in it, and less like me.” He sounded like he meant it, and Maggie swallowed.

“You don't mean that. You're a cop, and it's your job to suspect people. I suppose somebody has to do it.”

“Well, the cigar meant a lot to me.”

“You and Lexi have that in common. Did a good friend give you the cigar to celebrate his baby's birth?”

“No. Nothing like that. Robert, my old partner, gave it to me when he celebrated a promotion.”

“And that was a memorable occasion. Sure, it makes sense.”

“I'm starting to think I was wrong about hanging on to it, though.”

“Why?”

“You were right. The cigar is just a thing. But it isn't really the cigar, you know. It's the memory. When I look at that cigar, I can still see the expression on Robert's face the day he handed it to me. Kind of cocky, like he'd known the day was coming.”

“Proud.”

“That was Robert.” A veil came over his eyes, and though Maggie wanted to ask so much more, something told her there were some things which would best remain unsaid.

 

 

 

 

8

 

Later at the station, Jack filed a report that the suspicious person was nothing more than a parent checking on her own kid. He smiled, remembering the expression on Maggie's face, as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. The call had probably been legitimate and that of a protective teacher, but the only harm done today had been to Maggie's pride.

After he and Ryan had enjoyed a good laugh and got it out of their system, he'd had to comfort Maggie. The whole thing had really been his fault. He should have told Maggie about Anton that very day and not left her guessing. She'd probably come up with a lot worse scenarios.

Jack looked up from his paper work as the door to the station opened, and Mrs. Lenore Jones made her way inside holding a dog leash. At the end of that leash was a mangy looking dog that had seen better days. He considered rendering assistance to Mrs. Jones, but the last time he'd tried, he'd been rewarded with a severe tongue lashing. Officially Harte's Peak's oldest citizen, according to Calhoun, Mrs. Jones seemed to think that any offers of help meant she'd be considered feeble.

“Hello, Mrs. Jones,” he said, standing up. The woman brought out the Boy Scout in him.

“Good afternoon, young man. I'm here about this dog and all his funny business.” She handed him the leash and settled herself into the chair across from his desk.

Jack led the dog to his side of the desk nearly falling back at the strong smell of garbage.

At least the dog had the decency to look embarrassed, if that were possible. Upon closer inspection, he looked like some kind of shepherd mix.

“Funny business?” With Mrs. Jones, one never knew. Once she'd driven to the station to report that someone had parked their car too close to a fire hydrant. Calhoun spent an hour with her, explaining that she could have just called it in. Mrs. Jones argued that there were not many places left for her to drive to anymore, since church was within walking distance of her home, and that as long as she still had her license she intended to put it to good use.

“Someone has got to take this poor dog.” She raised her chin. “I can't have him digging up my prize-winning lilies anymore.”

“Have you tried the Humane Society?” Jack frowned at the dog. Maybe with a bit more meat on his bones, he might almost look—well, maybe not.

Mrs. Jones looked at him as if he were a simpleton. “Son, they turn them into dog meat over there. I may not be able to keep him, but I sure don't want him dead. Well? So what will you do about it?”

He supposed this was what small town police work had brought him to. Now he somehow had to find a home for this creature. “I'll make a few calls.”

“See that you do. There is somebody in this town who needs a dog. Surely he's good for something.” She pursed her mouth in the mutt's direction.

Most prospective dog owners probably wanted one that didn't look like he'd spent the past few months living in a garbage can, but Jack promised to try. “Thanks for bringing him in.”

The mutt had parked himself near the water cooler and stared longingly at an empty box of donuts on Calhoun's desk.

Ryan walked in from the back room and stopped in his tracks when he viewed the dog. “What is that?”

“Why, it's a dog. Are you blind?” Mrs. Jones asked.

“That's not a dog. That's a walking furry garbage can.” Ryan frowned.

“If you clean him up, I bet he'll look like a dog again,” Mrs. Jones said with a finger wag.

“That's mighty optimistic of you, Mrs. Jones.” Ryan walked to the other side of the office, holding his nose.

“It's under control,” Jack said.

Surely Calhoun would take pity on the dog. Man of God and all. How could he turn this poor animal down?

“I'll be going home now.” Mrs. Jones rose to leave, and both Jack and Ryan moved in her direction, but she held up a hand. “And I don't need any help.”

It took Mrs. Jones several long minutes to make her way to the door, during which Jack stared alternatively at the mutt and at Ryan, who stood, body wound tight as a new guitar cord. He wanted to open that door, but he also knew better.

“What will you do with that?” Ryan frowned in the direction of the dog after Mrs. Jones left.

“I thought you loved dogs.” The mutt stared at him. Jack stared back.

“I love dogs. That thing isn't a dog.”

“Oh c'mon, stop exaggerating.”

“We'll need to have the station fumigated now.” Ryan went around the office opening windows.

“Take him home, and tomorrow Calhoun will take pity on him,” Jack said.

“I can't take him home. I live in an apartment. At least you live in a house.”

“I can't have a dog.” He stopped short of saying that he didn't want any attachments even though it was the truth.

“Like you told me. It's just for one night.”

He lived in a house with no lease, a month to month arrangement with a landlord so desperate to fill the vacancy that she didn't mind a short timer. Because that's what Jack was around here, and no amount of pitiable dogs, elderly ladies, troubled teens, or beautiful mothers would change that.

 

****

 

They were going to have a serious talk. No more waiting patiently until Lexi wanted to confide in her. Maggie wanted to know everything—the names of Lexi's friends and their parents' names, where they lived, where they went to church, and possibly their drivers' license numbers and blood types. Secrets were dangerous, and she couldn't allow Lexi to keep them from her. How could she protect her if she didn't know what she was doing at all times?

Even so, she had no idea how to approach the subject. Matt was always best at tiptoeing the fine lines of confrontation. To Maggie, the best way was to just dive right in. Except that hadn't worked so well in the recent past.

“We need to talk.” Maggie pounced the moment Lexi walked in the door after school.

“About what?” Lexi put her backpack down and turned around, her brown eyes narrowed.

“I know you have a boyfriend—”

“No, I don't!”

“Let's not do this. If you and I can't be honest with each other, we'll never make it.”

Lexi pouted. “What's the point? You don't believe me anyway.”

“I can see you really like Anton.”

“That doesn't mean he's my boyfriend.”

“Just because I told you that you couldn't have a boyfriend until you were sixteen doesn't mean that you have to lie to me now.”

“I'm not lying. Ugh, I can't believe you.” Lexi stomped toward her bedroom.

“Hey, don't try to make this about me!”

Lexi had inherited her father's talent at turning every argument around to make it seem as though Maggie was the one at fault.