Still Waters. Shirlee McCoy

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СКАЧАТЬ Tiffany’s day gotten better? Was she still painting the white picket fence? Or was she off somewhere, offering friendship to another lonely soul? Maybe rescuing more hapless creatures? If so, who would rescue her? Certainly not her boyfriend. Dr. Brian. The man sounded like a loser.

      “So, who’s Dr. Brian?” The question was out before Jake knew he was going to ask it.

      The speculative gleam in Ben’s eyes made him wish he hadn’t. “Interesting.”

      “Dr. Brian?”

      “No. You. We’ve been out here for an hour and in that time we’ve discussed Tiffany Anderson saving a dog, Tiffany Anderson offering a job to a kid, and now you want to discuss Tiffany Anderson’s boyfriend.”

      “I don’t want to discuss him. Doris mentioned the name this morning and I wondered who he was.”

      “Dr. Brian McMath is a family practitioner. Good doctor.”

      “That’s it?”

      “And he’s Tiffany Anderson’s boyfriend.”

      “Not a very good one.” Jake wanted to pull the words back but it was too late. Ben’s gaze settled on him once again.

      “According to who?”

      “According to me. He was supposed to meet Tiffany at Becky’s. By the time we got there he’d gone to prayer meeting and left her to find her own way home.”

      “I guess Brian has his priorities.”

      “Shouldn’t Tiffany be one?”

      “That’s for Tiffany to decide.”

      Jake bit back a comment that wasn’t fit to be spoken and forced himself to let the topic go. “True. And it’s not my business, anyway.”

      “No?”

      Jake was saved from responding by the beep of his pager. He checked the number and shook his head. “Looks like there’s more trouble. I’m going to have to call it a day.”

      “I thought this was your vacation.” Ben reeled in his line, and started the boat’s motor.

      “It is, but I told dispatch to keep me informed. There’s been too much petty crime this summer, and I’ve got a feeling things are going to escalate.”

      “So what’s happened this time?”

      “Some windows smashed at the middle school. I want to go interview the neighbors. See if anyone saw anything.”

      “Any hope of that?” Ben spoke as he maneuvered the boat into the dock.

      “Not much. Whoever’s causing the trouble is being careful not to get caught. That won’t last for long, though. Sooner or later he’ll get cocky and make a mistake. Then I’ll slap him with every punishment available under the law.”

      “Sounds harsh, Jake. This is Small Town, U.S.A. Not the big city. People here will expect you to be lenient. Especially if it’s kids involved.”

      “Not kids. A gang. I’ve dealt with enough to know the signs.”

      “Still—”

      Jake held up his hand, forestalling the words. “Like I said before, giving kids second chances just gives them the opportunity to commit more crimes. I won’t do that. No matter what people here expect.”

      “Understood, friend. So let’s get moving. We don’t want to miss all the excitement.”

      “We?”

      “Sure, what better way to get people to tell the truth than to have a pastor along? Besides, we rode here together, remember?”

      Jake hesitated. In D.C., he wouldn’t have considered taking a civilian along on a police matter, but here in Lakeview things were different. That was one of the reasons he’d taken the job as sheriff. One of them. “All right. Let’s go.”

      Chapter Four

      Tiffany rubbed at the tension in her neck and tried to ignore the loud conversation going on in the living room. Brian and his parents were discussing Lakeview’s summer crime wave. Though she was as interested in the welfare of the community as anybody, Tiffany figured five play-by-play descriptions of the broken windows at the middle school, the sheriff’s quick response to the crime scene, the dusting for fingerprints and the interviewing of witnesses was overkill. She shook her head at her own irritation and vowed to try to be a more pleasant hostess.

      Or maybe she’d just keep hiding in the kitchen until the McMaths left.

      The fact was, Tiffany needed a break from her Sunday afternoon routine. If the aches in her arms and legs hadn’t told her that, the image reflected in the gleaming surface of the toaster she was cleaning would have. Deep lavender smudges shadowed the area under her eyes. Dull, reddish curls escaped the confines of the chignon she’d scraped her hair into that morning. And her skin, pale on the best of days, looked like the underside of a toad—greenish-white with a shiny glow. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning and it showed.

      Turning away from her reflection, Tiffany used a damp cloth to wipe the counter. Then, with quick, efficient movements, she unplugged the coffeepot, placed the last mug in the cupboard, and turned to inspect the kitchen. Every surface gleamed, including the floor which Tiffany had scrubbed within an inch of its old-linoleum life. A haphazard housekeeper, Tiffany accepted her cleaning frenzy for what it had been—avoidance.

      Cleaning the kitchen had been a good excuse for escaping the living room and Brian’s parents. Though the McMaths had always been kind to Tiffany and she enjoyed their company, somehow their presence at lunch every Sunday afternoon had become a habit. A habit only Tiffany seemed to be getting tired of.

      Worse, she couldn’t remember the last time she and Brian had spent any time alone together and that, along with a whole list of niggling worries, had kept Tiffany from sleeping. Now she was tired, frustrated and annoyed. She needed some time to herself. Time to think about Brian and their relationship. Or lack of one. What she did not need was a three-hour discussion on Sheriff Reed and his dedication to his job.

      The loud conversation quieted, and floorboards creaked. A moment later, the McMaths called their goodbyes and Tiffany responded in kind, glancing out from the kitchen and waving, before retreating to her spot beside the kitchen sink.

      Brian stepped into the room, a smile on his face and questions in his eyes. “Lunch was great. As usual. Thanks.”

      “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Did you put the leftovers out on the porch for Bandit?”

      “Yes, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for a dog to eat table food. You’ll spoil him.”

      “I don’t think a dog can be spoiled.”

      Brian shrugged in response, the silence in the room stretching out as he surveyed the clean floor and gleaming counters. “You were being a Martha today.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “A СКАЧАТЬ