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But she’d agreed to attend the board meeting, and this time she’d even agreed to the press. She’d do whatever it took to better educate people about the drug problem brewing in their backyards: local leaders, parents and anyone else who’d listen. The town had to band together to find a solution.
“Mr. Mayor.” She smiled blandly into the glare of flashbulbs. “I’m willing to do anything for the kids, you know that.”
“I’ve just come from meeting with the center’s board of trustees, as you know,” he said, more for the reporters than her. He nodded as Oliver Wilmington joined them. The old man walked painfully slowly these days, leaning heavily on the cane he’d relied on since recovering from last year’s stroke. “And they’re very impressed with your department’s efforts in drug prevention, as well as your personal plans for the future, should you be elected sheriff. You know the chairman of the center’s board, don’t you?”
“Mr. Wilmington.” She shook hands with Maggie Rivers’s great-grandfather. Another flurry of flashbulbs temporarily blinded her. “The department is always happy to have the support of our local leaders.”
“Actually,” the elderly gentleman said, “I’m not entirely convinced either you or your department is up for this task. Not after that unfortunate boy’s death this morning.”
Angie nodded thoughtfully. Inside she cringed. Old Man Wilmington had never hidden his skepticism of her ability to make a good sheriff. Now everyone in town would be reading about it in tomorrow’s paper.
“I—” she started.
“The chief’s the man for the job.” Mayor Henderson’s hearty pat on the back, his forced enthusiasm in front of the two reporters hastily recording every word being said, grated almost as much as his insistence in repeating her title over and over again. As if anyone in town could forget that the only woman on the force was in charge of the nine men serving with her. “Putting this scum threatening Oakwood’s teens and citizens behind bars is the cornerstone of Officer Carter’s platform.”
“Is that how you see it, Chief?” Cal Grossman, the Oakwood Star’s combination roving reporter and editorial chief, chimed in. His weekly spotlights on the ups and downs of her unopposed sheriff’s race had become a local must-read. “That your run for the top spot hinges on stopping the increase in drug-related crime in the area?”
“Not to mention the gangs,” Oliver Wilmington added. “What are you going to do about the gangs running amok through this historic town? Shootings, overdoses, graffiti scarring some of our most beloved buildings. It’s appalling how little control the sheriff’s department seems to have over any of it.”
Angie looked from one man to another, feeling oddly like a reality-TV contestant who’d been set up to fail, meanwhile everyone was glued to his seat watching her squirm. Well, they’d have to look somewhere else for their entertainment today.
“Our department is totally committed, as I am, to handling all of these problems, gentlemen.” She gave Wilmington a firm smile. “But my bid for sheriff couldn’t be further from the point here. Our current sheriff and each of the deputies on this county’s payroll have the same goal—protecting our citizens. Most importantly, our children.”
“Like my son, Garret, here.” The mayor all but dragged the eighteen-year-old from the fringes of the impromptu press conference. “Our focus has to stay on keeping these kids safe and out of trouble. And that’s right up Chief Carter’s alley. Why, she volunteers no fewer than ten hours each week to mentor the teens who come to this center. Personal time she could be spending any ol’ way she wants. And she chooses to be here, working with kids who need the kind of guidance she—”
Angie tuned out the mayor’s prattle and studied Garret Henderson instead. The boy wasn’t exactly tops on her list of trouble-shy kids. She’d caught him hanging around Sam Walker and a few other miscreants a little too often lately. A couple of times, she’d found herself wondering if the kid wasn’t strung out on something. Garret stood stiffly beside his dad. Silent—she’d like to think because of his grief over Travis Reynolds’s death. Or maybe he tolerated being used as a prop in his father’s political exploits even less gracefully than Angie did.
“If you’ll excuse me.” She left behind the scene threatening to turn her stomach.
“But, Chief Carter,” Cal called after her. “Do you have any comment on your election hinging on how well you handle the drug problem, especially now that Sheriff Rivers is on extended leave?”
“No,” was all she’d let herself say.
Sick of the mayor’s tactics. Sick of talking about the sheriff’s race—in which she was the sole candidate, but if a majority of the citizens didn’t cast their vote, the city council would be given the duty of appointing an interim sheriff once Eric left in the fall. Sick to death that kids were dying, yet the election was all anyone, including herself, could think about most days, she headed out the front door of the youth center.
Exactly when had she started dreading the thought of campaigning for the job she’d hitched her future to? And how was it possible she longed to keep walking until she reached the Rivers place, so she could talk through her second thoughts about her career—not with her boss, but with his kid brother?
Not going to happen.
She’d decided to wait until morning to follow up with Maggie. She wouldn’t interrupt their family’s celebration for anything. Especially to talk with Tony.
But the man managed to see her. The real her buried beneath the competent cop. He didn’t try to fix things she didn’t want fixed, her family’s favorite pastime when she let the doubt and fear slip free.
Tony would find a way to understand. He’d sit and listen to the confusion rolling around inside her head. The swamping guilt over Travis’s death. Her wishy-washy angst about the election. Maybe he’d even find a way to make her laugh.
Actually, it didn’t seem to matter what Tony did. It would be good to see him again. More than good. It would make the otherwise hopeless night ahead bearable.
Wonderful.
Why did Tony Rivers have to be exactly what she needed most, just when she’d promised herself she’d steer clear of the man?
CHAPTER THREE
“MAGGIE, YOU’VE GOTTA GO,” Claire said the next morning. She cracked the door open a little wider. “Who knows when Sam’ll be back. He’s already in a bad mood.”
“I’m not leaving without you, Claire.” Maggie put her hand on the door to keep her friend from shutting it in her face. No way was she giving up this easily. “Where’s Max?”
“In his crib. Sleeping, thank God. I’m trying to clean while I’ve got a few minutes.”
“’Cause Sam’s too lazy to pick up after himself?”
“No, because he was hopping mad about the place when he left.” Claire wiped eyes that looked swollen from crying. “I don’t want to deal with him coming back and getting mad all over again. It scares Max so bad, all that yelling.”
“Let me in.” Maggie reached inside and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Let me help clean. You look dead tired.”
With shaking fingers, Claire slid the chain back and swung the door wide. Tired wasn’t the right word. It looked as if she hadn’t slept at all last night. And she hadn’t been exaggerating about the apartment. Dirty clothes, dishes and baby things were strewn everywhere.
“Ew.” Maggie pried a container of Chinese takeout from where it had spilled and adhered to the coffee table.
“I don’t know how I could let everything get so filthy.” Claire took the mess from Maggie and tossed it into the unlined wicker trash can in the corner. “I’m just—”
“You’re just a new mom with no help around here, who’s trying to take care of a baby entirely on your own. Where’s this family of Sam’s? Why hasn’t his mother pitched in, if things are this bad?”
“Sam won’t ask Betty for help. His family never comes here. We always go to their farm out near Pineview. Once I get things under control, we’ll be fine.” Claire picked up a pile of soiled laundry. Tripping over a stuffed bunny, she caught herself on the end table beside the couch and toppled a shoe box to the floor. It landed on its side. A revolver rolled out.
“Oh my God.” Claire reached for the gun.
“Don’t touch it!” Maggie pulled her away. “Who knows what it’s been used for.”
“What?” Fear filled her friend’s hoarse whisper.
“You said Sam and those guys were talking about a drive-by shooting. What if—”
“No.” Claire sat on the couch, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t believe that Sam—”
“Of course you believe it!” Keeping quiet about Sam’s connection to Oakwood’s drug problem had tortured Maggie all through her parent’s send-off dinner, into the night, and right up until she’d kissed her mom and dad goodbye that morning. Then she’d all but run from her uncle’s good-buddy suggestion that they spend the day together. “What I can’t figure out is how you can believe it, and still be here with your baby.”
“Exactly where am I supposed to go, with no money and no way of getting any, except from Sam and his family?”
“Call your parents.” Maggie sat and put an arm around her friend. Claire was out of time and easy options. “You said they live somewhere near Williamsburg. That’s not so far way. I’m sure if they knew—”
“My parents are hundreds of miles from here, and don’t be so sure they’d help. When I left, they were lecturing me about being a high-school dropout. Add an unwed mother to the bargain, and—”
“They’ll want you back. And they’ll want Max, too, once they have a chance to know him. And you can stay with me until you reach them.”
“What about when Sam finds out? His mom won’t let me take Max—”
“No one has to know you’re at my house. My parents are on their way to New York.”
Maggie already missed her parents, and they would be back in a few weeks. Claire hadn’t seen her family in almost two years. She must be dying inside.
“It’s the weekend,” Maggie pressed. “We’ll lie low and figure this out together. Sam’ll think you skipped town or something.”
Claire was shaking her head again. She seemed to have run out of arguments. Maggie slipped the gun back inside the shoe box by nudging it with the lid. Then using the toe of her sneaker, she slid the whole thing as far away as she could.
“It’s not safe here. My uncle will help you keep Max away from Sam and his family for a few days, and by Monday you’ll be on your way to Virginia.”
Maggie heard herself make the promise and prayed Tony would play along. It wasn’t like she and her uncle were überclose or anything. He was fun to hang out with, but serious stuff wasn’t his style. But after she showed up with Claire, what choice would he have? Maggie wasn’t taking no for an answer, from him or her friend.
“Once you’re back with your parents, they’ll work out how to legally keep Max with you and away from the Walkers.”
And you can help my dad and his deputies nail Sam’s ass to the wall.
“I…I’d have to pack up all of Max’s stuff. I…I don’t know…”
“I’ll help.” Maggie pulled her friend to her feet and half shoved her into the other room. Sam might come back at any minute. “Just bring whatever Max’ll need for the next couple of days. You can borrow some of my clothes, and your parents will help you with the rest once you get to Virginia.”
A peek inside the portable crib between the bed and the wall confirmed that Max was sleeping soundly. From the mess in the closet, Claire produced an oversize duffel that Maggie helped her fill with diapers, baby clothes and the tiny toys Max chewed on almost constantly, now that he was teething.
“What about food?” Maggie couldn’t zip the overflowing bag, so she left it gaping open. “Do you need anything we can’t pick up at the grocery?”
“I’m still nursing mostly.” Claire set aside the extra blanket she’d taken from the playpen and headed for the bedroom door. “There’s half a box of rice cereal in the kitchen, and a few bottles of the fruit I’ve been trying to get him to eat—”
The front door swung open with a thump, cutting Claire off. Maggie grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her back into the room. Together, they tiptoed to the corner by the crib. Claire held her finger to her lips, an unnecessary bid for silence.
“Damn, man, you weren’t kidding about this place,” an unfamiliar male voice said. “It smells like baby poop in here.”
“It’s the damn diaper pail in the bathroom,” Sam groused in his distinctive Southern drawl. “Claire?” he called.
The girls froze, glancing nervously to where Max was snoozing the morning away.
“Thank God,” Sam said. “She must have taken the brat somewhere.”
“You as a daddy,” the other man joked. “I never thought you were stupid enough to get a piece of white trash like Claire Morton pregnant.”
“Yeah?” Sam’s chuckle was a menacing thing. Beside Maggie, Claire was shaking in her sandals. “I guess it’s about as stupid as you nailing Digger Hudson last month, in broad daylight a block from the youth center. Now the cops are crawling all over the place. It’s cutting into my business.”
“Is that why you brought me down here, to bust my hump about the drive-by? Man, that was weeks ago. I just ran your shit halfway to Memphis and back, and I dumped a small fortune in your lap. Don’t that count for nothin’? Digger was skimming half your take. You told me to take care of him.”
“Quietly, Marcus. I told you to take care of him real quiet-like. Now the town’s in even more of an uproar.”
“So what? You’ve got a new dealer for Digger’s territory, and he’s doing more business than you can handle. The kids around here are buying the stuff like it’s candy. You can’t make it fast enough. Besides, the mayor and his hired guns ain’t got nothin’, or they’d have come looking for me by now. You’re untouchable.”
“They may have nothing yet, but I had to move another lab this morning. And one of my runners almost got nabbed at the bus station on his way to a dealer in Macon. The money in Atlanta is getting edgy. I live and die by my reputation. I can’t afford to be seen as high risk. Too much local interference, and I’m out. There are other towns, with less cops and less complications. The people who back me don’t want to deal with that kind of heat. So what I’ve got, is a great big pain in my ass, with your name written all over it.”
“Now wait a minute—”
“No, you wait! You’re out, Marcus. You ain’t goin’ to up and decide to be stupid again, not in my town. Get the hell out of Oakwood, and don’t let me catch you around here again.”
“You can’t—”
“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Sam bellowed. “And you ain’t got jack to say about it. Get the hell out of my apartment, and don’t make the mistake of lying low anywhere around here. My people are everywhere. People a whole lot more loyal to me than they are to you. There’s no place for you to hide.”
“You son of a bitch,” the other man growled, then from the sound of the scuffling and the colorful curses that followed, he took a swing at Sam.
Flying furniture rattled the wall separating the two rooms. Male grunts accompanied the sound of fists connecting with numerous body parts. Maggie held her breath. Her friend’s wild eyes filled with tears.
Too late was all Maggie could think. Why hadn’t she forced Claire to come home with her last night? Max was going to wake up any minute, then Sam and this Marcus guy were going to know Maggie and Claire were there and had overheard everything.
She edged to the crib and lifted the sleeping baby and his cocoon of bedding to her shoulder. She covered his head with a blanket to better drown out the racket from the next room.
“You bastard,” someone said in a strangled voice, followed by more fighting.
Then an ear-piercing explosion rocketed through the apartment, followed almost instantly by another. Claire and Maggie dropped to the floor in one motion, cowering together while Maggie jostled a squirming Max.
Oh my God, they were shooting at each other!
Then the air that Maggie couldn’t seem to breathe rang with silence.
Had they left?
The sound of feet shuffling told her that at least one of the guys was still there. Then the front door banged open, followed by more silence.
Max began making puppylike sounds. Maggie cuddled him closer, trying to keep him quiet until they were certain they were alone. An eternity passed before she dared a glance at her friend. Claire was leaning against the wall still, looking toward the closet, her chest heaving up and down in shock at what had happened.
“Claire,” Maggie whispered. “Do you think they’re gone?”
When her friend didn’t respond, Maggie risked nudging her with her shoulder, more than a little worried that any second Claire would start shrieking. But her friend’s chin dropped to her chest instead. Her upper body slowly slid sideways until she was lying on the floor. Blood smeared the wall behind her.
“Oh my God!” Maggie whispered, panic hammering through her. She jerked a glance toward the open closet door, zeroing in on the hole where a bullet had torn through the wall and then slammed into her friend. “Claire!”
Maggie couldn’t manage anything louder than a whisper, even though she was freaking out inside. It was all she could do not to drop the whimpering baby in her arms as she watched blood spread like tie-dye across her friend’s Atlanta Braves T-shirt.
Claire’s eyes were open. Her chest was still moving as she tried to take in air. But each breath was a struggling wheeze. Maggie scrambled closer.
“Claire, hold on.” She reached a tentative hand to touch her friend’s chalk-white cheek. The skin beneath her fingers was cold. Too cold. “I’m calling 911.”
“No…” Claire rasped before Maggie could move away. “N-No police. Get… Get Max out of here.”
“What are you talking about?” Maggie’s eyes filled at the weakness in her friend’s voice. “I’m getting you to the hospital.”
“No…” An attempt at a cough followed, then bright red blood dribbled from the corner of Claire’s mouth. “Get Max out first. Then call. I’ll be… fine…” More coughing cut her words off, each ugly sound weaker than the last. “Get Max out of here…. To my parents…like you promised.”
Maggie looked from her friend to the bright blue eyes of the squirming infant in her arms.
“Of course I’ll make sure he gets to Virginia,” she heard herself promising.
Max’s face scrunched as he revved up to start wailing. She rocked him harder, helpless to do anything else.
She’d never felt helpless before in her life.
“Please!” Claire’s hand clamped on Maggie’s arm with surprising strength. “Go… Now. What if they come back? Max can’t be here…. Not… Not safe… Sam can’t know you were here. You… You promised to help. Protect him for me, Maggie. Take care of Max….”
Claire’s hand slid to the ground. Her eyes rolled backward in a sickening glide, until her lids dropped shut.
“Claire?” Maggie knelt and felt her friend’s chest, which was thankfully still rising and falling. She pulled her hand away, only to stare at the crimson staining it. Her friend’s blood. She choked on another scream. “Claire, wake up! Claire?”
Too late, her mind chanted.
She could have stopped this last night, but now it was too late.
“Oh, God!”
Move, Maggie Rivers.
She staggered to her feet. Max’s cry sent her heart rate spiraling even higher. She returned him to his makeshift crib, his bottom hitting the pad with a squishy-diaper thud. Then she was racing through the door to find the phone in the den.
She tripped over something and landed hard on her hands and knees. Preparing to push back to her feet, she focused on the hand barely two inches from her nose. A hand grasping a gun.
In a crazy kind of slow motion she couldn’t stop, Maggie’s gaze trailed up the arm attached to the hand, finally coming to rest on the face of a man she didn’t know. A face covered with a sickening amount of blood.
Her screams joined Max’s.
She raced to the phone and dialed. What seemed like hours passed and the 911 operator still hadn’t picked up.
Why wouldn’t they pick up!
“911 Emergency,” a calm, feminine voice finally answered.
“Please,” Maggie begged through her chattering teeth. “Please… People have been shot. S-Send an ambulance.”
She recited the apartment’s location as she glanced back to the bedroom. The baby’s cries had reached ear-splitting decibels.
“And the names of the victims?” the operator asked.
“What?” Maggie stared at the clearly dead stranger on the living room’s shabby beige carpet.
Marcus.
Sam had called him Marcus, then he’d shot him. And one of the men had shot Claire.
“The victims,” the woman prompted. “I need their names.”
Get Max out of here… Not safe…Sam can’t know you were here…
“Their names?” Maggie repeated.
“Yes, names.” Suspicion crept into the woman’s voice. “Why don’t we start with yours. Is that your baby I hear crying?”
Protect him for me, Maggie…. Get Max out of here…. To my parents…like you promised.
“Miss? The paramedics are on their way. Please give me your name. How did the shootings occur?”
Maggie slammed the phone onto its receiver. Fought not to run screaming out of the apartment. She had to stay and make sure Claire was okay. She should wait for her dad’s deputies to get there.
But if she did, they’d take Max away for sure.
Protect him for me, Maggie….
She stumbled to the bedroom and found Claire still unconscious, though she was breathing. Baby Max was beside himself, demanding to be picked up. She grabbed him and knelt beside her friend.
“Claire, the ambulance is on its way.” Maggie jiggled the baby, scared out of her mind, but trying not to sound it. “Claire, can you hear me?”
No response came, only Max’s whimpers.
God, please don’t let my friend die.
This was all her fault. None of this would have happened if she’d talked to Angie, or her parents or somebody yesterday.
Get Max out of here….
She didn’t dare. Running with the baby was stupid. But she’d promised…. Once the paramedics and her dad’s deputies got there, would they really turn Max over to his local family?
Sam’s family.
Tears streaming down her face, she pulled herself together and up off the floor. Forget how sick she felt. Forget how much she wanted to hold her friend close and start sobbing right along with the baby.
Don’t be a coward, Maggie.
Don’t just stand there. Move!
Shaking, she kissed Claire’s forehead and said another quick prayer she was terrified was too little, too late. Then she did the scariest thing she’d ever done in her life.
She ran.
CHAPTER FOUR
SPENDING HIS SATURDAY OFF doing what he thought any self-respecting, stand-in parent should be doing, Tony pulled a fresh batch of laundry from the dryer. With classic rock blaring from the radio on the shelf behind the washer, he breathed in the scent of detergent and home, and shoved aside thoughts of his family’s imminent move to New York.
Last night’s dinner had been great.
It was all great.
So put Eric’s move out of your mind, man. It’s a done deal.
Except his mind didn’t clear as Billy Joel sang about a sweet girl named Virginia, as much as it shifted to thoughts of a certain chief deputy.
The softness of her lips. The fact that he felt like he belonged wherever they were, every time they were alone. The curves he’d discovered beneath her unisex clothes, filling his hands—
The side door off the kitchen crashed open.
His niece was home from wherever she’d disappeared to an hour ago. When she sped upstairs without saying hello, he dropped the towels back into the dryer and headed after her. Billy crooned that only the good died young.
Maybe he and Maggie could grab burgers and shakes for lunch. Maybe they could hang out for the rest of the day. The world would be fine again, as soon as he got his head out of his butt and stopped obsessing about things he couldn’t change. Not to mention a woman he was nuts to want in the first place.