Taming Jesse James (2 page)

“He had some difficulties with the other teachers. But that doesn't matter. What concerns me is that in those two weeks he has come to school twice with black eyes and once with stitches in the corner of his mouth. That's just not normal wear and tear for a boy his age.”

“Corey's not like most boys.”

“He's certainly a little high-strung, but he's still a child.”

After a moment of studying her out of those vivid blue eyes, the police chief pulled a notebook from his pocket and began writing in it. “Two black eyes and stitches in his mouth. That's what you said, right?”

She nodded. “When I asked him about his first injury, he became extremely evasive. He refused to look me in the eye and mumbled some obviously fictitious story about falling off his bike. His second black eye came from falling out of a tree, he said.”

“And the stitches?”

“Yet another fall off his bike. He said he did a face plant on the concrete.”

“It's possible he's telling the truth. Maybe he's just
accident-prone. When I was a kid, I once spent a whole summer at the clinic in town getting patched up from one accident or another.”

She had a disturbing mental image of a dark-haired little boy with those blue eyes and the devil in his grin, but she quickly pushed it away.

“Corey is a rough-and-tumble kind of kid, Ms. McKenzie,” the chief continued. “It's only natural that he'll suffer a few scrapes and bruises along the way.”

“But four serious accidents in two weeks? Doesn't that stretch the bounds of credibility a little even for you, Chief Harte?”

He checked his notebook. “Four? You only mentioned three.”

“I was getting to that. Today, during our last recess of the day, he ripped his shirt on the playground fence. He refused to let me help him, but through the tear in his shirt I saw what looked like bruises on his shoulder.”

“Bruises?”

“Like from a man's hand squeezing viciously hard.” She didn't add that she'd once had similar bruises. And that even though they had faded more than a year ago, she could sometimes still feel them.

He blew out a breath, and for the first time she began to think maybe she wasn't fighting a losing battle. He scribbled a few more notes in his book, then glanced at her again. “What makes you suspect the mayor is behind all of this?”

“When Corey transferred into my class, I examined his school records so I could be familiar with his situation. Until midway through the second grade, Corey's teachers all loved him and he had wonderful grades. The comments in his report cards were things
like ‘always willing to help others.' ‘A joy to have in class.' ‘Creative and imaginative.”'

“He's imaginative, all right. Last winter during a cold spell he poured water in the keyhole of every store on Main Street so the locks would freeze. Took us half a day to thaw everything out.”

“His behavior in class began to change dramatically, coinciding quite noticeably around the time I understand his mother married Mayor Garrett. Almost overnight, a bright, artistic child turned angry and destructive. I believe there's a connection.”

“A lot of kids have trouble adjusting to divorces and remarriages. Doesn't mean they're being abused.”

She glared at him, feeling as if she'd lost all the headway she thought she'd gained. Why wasn't he taking this seriously? She had been through this for more than an hour with Principal Hendricks and she had had just about enough of Salt River's good-old-boy network. She had no doubt that's why she seemed to be hitting a brick wall here. Nobody wanted to rock the boat, especially when powerful people were on board.

“Do you care about this child's welfare at all? Or is he just one more juvenile delinquent to you?”

He blinked at her sudden attack. “Sure I care about him. But I just can't jump into a major investigation based on speculation and conjecture.”

Speculation and conjecture? She'd given him ample cause to investigate. Wasn't he listening to her at all?

Furious, she glared at him, completely forgetting that the man was supposed to intimidate her. “You mean you don't want to alienate the mayor by pursuing an investigation against him. Isn't that right?”

She narrowed her gaze thoughtfully. “That's it, isn't it? I think I'm beginning to understand. Seth Garrett is
an important man around here. Tell me, Chief Harte, are you more concerned about keeping your job or in protecting a little boy?”

As soon as the words escaped her tongue, she knew they were a mistake. A monumental mistake. The police chief's blue eyes hardened. His easy charm disappeared, leaving only raw anger.

“Be careful, ma'am,” he murmured.

She clasped her hands together tightly in her lap to hide their renewed trembling. Where had that outburst of hers come from?

The old Sarah might have said something exactly like that, would have faced down a hundred Jesse Hartes if she had to. But she had been gone for a long time. The timid mouse she had left behind never would have risked baiting a man like him.

Some vestige of her former self must have been lurking inside her all this time. What's more, she was amazed to suddenly discover she wasn't willing to run away just because of his threat, implied or otherwise. Corey deserved to have someone on his side.

Even if that someone was only a timid mouse.

She stood up again. “If you're not willing to investigate, I told you, I'll find someone who is.”

After a moment's hesitation, he stood, as well. “I didn't say I wasn't going to investigate. I'll look into the matter. I'll talk to the boy, talk to Seth and Ginny. But I have to warn you, I'm not sure how far I'll get. These cases can be difficult to prove, especially if the child won't cooperate. And knowing Corey, I can pretty much guess how it will go.”

“Please let me know what happens.” She walked toward the door.

“Oh, I'll be in touch, Ms. McKenzie,” the police chief said. “You can be sure of that.”

That's exactly what she was afraid of, Sarah thought as she walked out of his office.

I
t was nearly six when Jesse pulled into the Garretts' driveway. He climbed out of the department Bronco and gazed up at the house, all three stories of it.

Somebody had been busy with spring cleaning, judging by the way the windows gleamed gold in the dying sun, without a streak. The place radiated warmth and elegance, from its perfectly manicured gardens to its cobblestone sidewalk.

The house was only a few years old, but a lifetime away from the miserable one-bedroom trailer halfway up Elk Mountain where Ginny and Corey had lived during her marriage to Hob Sylvester.

Jesse had worked for the county then as a deputy sheriff and he'd always hated going out on domestic disturbance calls there. He could still remember the tangible feeling of despair that permeated the thin, painfully bare walls, and his constant, frustrating attempts to convince Ginny to get out of the situation.

Oh, she would try. He knew that. She would move out for a few days or a week or two. But Hob still had enough high school football star in him to sweet-talk her back.

Hob hadn't always been a son of a bitch, and maybe that was one of the things that kept Ginny hanging on. Once he'd been all charisma and slow, cowboy charm, the high school football standout everybody pegged to go pro. It hadn't worked out that way. Something went wrong—Jesse wasn't sure what—and a few years later Ginny got pregnant.

Jesse figured Hob must have seen it as just one more dirty trick played on him by fate. He'd done the right thing by marrying her, or what was considered the right thing by society, anyway. It sure as hell hadn't been the right thing for Ginny. Hob had spent the next six years drinking hard and taking his bitterness out on her.

For more than a few of those years, Jesse had been just like him. It was a chapter in his life he hated to even remember, how after his parents' deaths he'd spent many a night at the Renegade, trying to drown his guilt any way he could.

Jesse pushed the memory away. Anyway, Hob was gone. He'd taken up with a cocktail waitress from Idaho Falls about four years ago and the two of them had headed for Vegas, last Jesse heard.

Ginny had landed on her feet, that's for sure. Ended up marrying her divorce attorney and now she and her kid lived in one of the fanciest houses in town and she drove a Range Rover and shopped at all the ritzy designer stores in Jackson Hole.

He thought of Sarah McKenzie's accusations. He really hoped she was wrong. Ginny deserved a happy ending, after what she'd been through.

As he walked up the front steps, the intoxicating smells of spring drifted around him—sweet lilac bushes, damp, musty earth and meat sizzling on somebody's grill nearby.

Salt River was his town and he was fiercely protective of it. When he was a kid, he couldn't wait to get out. He'd been stupid enough to think the slow pace of a small town was strangling the life out of him. Once in a while he still hungered for something more than ticketing jaywalkers and breaking up the occasional bar fight, but he owed a debt to the people of this town.

One he'd be a long time repaying.

Besides, he couldn't imagine living anywhere else on a beautiful, warm spring night like this. It was just about perfect, with kids jumping on a trampoline down the street, people working in their yards or reading the paper on their front porches, and sprinklers thumping happily all across town.

Not
quite
perfect, he amended. He still had the matter of Sarah McKenzie's suspicions about Corey Sylvester to contend with.

He rang the doorbell and had to wait only a few seconds before Ginny Garrett answered.

Her face still retained most of the beauty that had won her the prom queen tiara in school. It brightened when she saw him, but her expression just as quickly grew wary. “What has Corey done now?” she asked, her voice resigned.

“Nothing. Least, nothing that I know about yet. That's not why I'm here, anyway.”

“Oh. Well then, Seth's not home, I'm afraid. He had a late meeting with a client.”

“Actually, I wanted to speak with you.”

Again, wariness vied with curiosity in her expres
sion. “Come in, then,” she finally said. “We can talk in the living room.”

She led the way through the big house. Jesse had been there plenty of times on business with the mayor, but he always felt out of place amid the creamy whites and fancy furniture—afraid to move wrong in case he broke something expensive.

“Where's Maddie?” he asked, of Corey's six-month-old half sister.

“Napping. Finally.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “I know it's almost bedtime anyway, but it's been one of those days. She's teething and has been running me ragged today. Would you care for something to drink? A pop or something?”

“No. I'm fine. I'd just as soon get this over with.”

She glanced at him. “That sounds pretty ominous. What's this about, Jess?”

He sighed heavily. Damn, he didn't want to do this. Ginny had been his friend for a long time—the first girl he'd ever kissed, way back in the second grade.

After the car accident that had killed his parents and left him in the hospital for nearly a month, she'd been one of the few people who didn't offer him empty platitudes. Or, worse, who acted as if nothing had happened, when his whole life had just been ripped apart.

She had offered simple, calming comfort and he had never forgotten it.

Since then, she'd been to hell and back and had worked hard to make something out of her life. How could he tell her about Ms. McKenzie's suspicions?

“Come on, Jess. Out with it. You're scaring me.”

He blew out a breath, then met her worried gaze squarely. “How do Corey and Seth get on?”

Her brow furrowed. “What kind of question is that? They get along fine.”

“All the time?”

She continued to look puzzled. “Certainly they have their differences, I suppose. Corey can be difficult sometimes and he has a hard time with authority—you should know that as well as anybody. But Seth tries hard to be a good father. Why do you ask?”

Damn, this was tough. “There's been an allegation that Corey is being abused.”

She stared at him, the color draining from her face until her skin just about matched the white of the sofa she was sitting on. “Abused? By Seth?”

He nodded grimly.

“This is some kind of sick joke, right? Who would say such a terrible thing? It's not true. Absolutely not true.”

“It's not completely unfounded, Gin. I understand he's had several injuries in the last few weeks.”

“He's a boy. A boy who gets into more than his fair share of mischief, but still just a boy. He has accidents.”

“You have to admit, it looks pretty suspicious, that many injuries in such a short period of time.”

“No. You're wrong.” She jumped up and began to pace around the room. “Who is saying such terrible things? Who would want to hurt us like this?”

For a moment he debated telling her it was Sarah McKenzie, then he discarded the idea. Sarah still had to teach Corey in her class for the rest of the school year and he didn't want to stir up trouble for her where he didn't need to. “At this point, let's just say it's a concerned citizen. I swear, it's no one with a hidden
agenda, just somebody who cares about your son's welfare.”

“Well, they're wrong. Dead wrong.”

Sometimes he really hated this job. “I'm sorry, but I have to ask you, Ginny. Have you ever seen Seth hurting your son or do you have any reason to believe he might do so when you're not around?”

Her mouth compressed into a thin line. She was quiet for several long moments. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and hurt. “How can you even think such a thing, Jess? You, of all people, should know better. You know what it was like for us before. Do you honestly think, after what my son has been through, that I would stand by and do nothing while it happens all over again?”

He believed her. How could he do anything else, faced with such complete, passionate sincerity?

“Seth is a good man,” she went on. “He's decent and caring and in the last two years he's been a wonderful father to Corey. He loves him, just as much as he loves Maddie. He even wants to adopt him!”

He sat back. “I'm sorry, Ginny. I had a hard time believing it, too, but I had to follow through and investigate.”

“I understand.”

“Did Corey have an explanation for being so accident-prone lately?”

Before she could answer, the front door opened and they heard the chink of keys being placed on a table in the hall.

Ginny paled a shade lighter. “That will be Seth. This is going to kill him, to have someone accuse him of such a thing.”

“Ginny?” the mayor called from the entry. “Why
is a police Bronco parked in the driveway?” A moment later, he poked his head into the living room. He frowned when he saw Jess. “Chief! Is something wrong?”

“Seth, you'd better sit down,” Ginny began.

With a puzzled frown the mayor took a seat next to her. After Jesse reluctantly explained the purpose for his visit, Seth appeared just as shocked as his wife.

“It's absolutely not true,” he said vehemently. “You must know that. I would never lay a hand on the boy.”

“I had to investigate, Seth.”

“Of course you did.” He frowned. “It must have taken great courage for someone to step forward with those kinds of suspicions. Too many people just look the other way, not wanting to get involved. I'd like to know who instigated this.”

Again Jesse thought of Sarah McKenzie and her nervousness in his office. He found himself strangely reluctant to mention her involvement, again using the excuse that she still had to teach Corey for the rest of the school year and it might make things awkward for her.

Rather than answer Seth, he opted to change the subject instead. “Something is still going on with Corey and I think we need to find out what. That many accidents in such a short time is pretty suspicious. Do you think someone else might be hurting him?”

Ginny looked as if she might be sick. Seth must have seen it, too. He grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly. “Who?” he asked. “Who would do that?”

“I don't know. Maybe someone at school. Has Corey given you any reason to think he's being
bullied? Or that he's been fighting with any of the other boys?”

“If anyone is beating on him, it's probably that Connor boy.” Seth's voice dripped disgust.

“Luke's kid?”

Ginny nodded. “He's always hanging around with Corey. But he's in junior high school! What does he want with a ten-year-old?”

Dusty Connor had been in just as many scrapes with the law as Corey. Where Corey's shenanigans leaned toward the clever and mischievous, Dusty's were usually plain mean.

“I don't know, but I think we need to find out,” Jesse said.

“How?”

Before he could answer her, they heard the sound of a door slamming, then a voice from the kitchen of the house. “Mom, I'm home,” Corey called.

“We're in the living room,” Ginny answered. “Come in here, please.”

They heard a loud, exasperated sigh and then Corey wandered into the room. With a basketball under his arm and dressed in baggy shorts, a T-shirt and high-top sneakers, he looked like most of the other ten-year-olds in town except for a black eye and all that attitude radiating from him like heat waves off a sidewalk.

“What's for din—” he started to ask, then his gaze landed on Jess. For one brief instant, pure panic flickered across his expression, but he quickly hid it behind belligerence. “I didn't do nothin'.”

Interesting. Now, why would the kid suddenly break a sweat just at the sight of a cop when he'd always been a cocky little wise guy, even when Jesse or one
of the five officers in his department caught him red-handed up to something?

What was he messed up in now that had him so jumpy? Whatever it was, Jesse had a bad feeling about it. He obviously needed to keep a better eye on the kid.

He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure you're in trouble?”

“I'm not?” Corey's voice cracked on the second word.

“Should you be?”

“No. I told you, I ain't done nothin'.”

“Haven't done anything,” Ginny corrected quietly.

“Whatever.”

“Good,” Jesse said, thinking fast. “Because I need your help.”

All three of them stared at him. To Ginny and Seth, he sent a reassuring smile. He'd been a cop a long time and the one thing he'd learned was to trust his instincts. He could start interrogating the boy about his injuries—the black eyes, the cut, whatever bruises the schoolteacher had seen that afternoon.

But judging by his experiences with Corey, he was sure the kid wouldn't tell them a thing. He would turn closemouthed and uncooperative and give Jesse the same bull he'd been giving everybody else about his injuries.

On the other hand, if he could spend a little time with Corey—convince the kid to trust him—maybe Jesse could get to the bottom of this.

“I'm in need of a partner for a couple days. You interested?”

The boy looked baffled. “A partner?”

“Yeah. I'm coming to school next month to talk about crime prevention.” That much was true, at least.
The annual visit had been scheduled for weeks. The rest he was making up as he went along.

“I was thinking I could use somebody who knows his way around to help me out,” Jesse went on. “Give the other kids some pointers about how to stay safe and out of trouble.”

“Me? You want
me
to help you?”

“Why not?”

The boy looked as if he could think of a million reasons why not, but there was also an unmistakable curious light in his eyes.

Jesse decided to play on that. “You don't have to do it if you don't want to, but I could really use your help. If you agree to help me, you'll need to come to the station a few times so we can figure out what we're going to do. What do you think?”