Я не я и свадьба не моя. Лора Вайс

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       CHAPTER ONE

      THE VOICE ON the phone sounded familiar. But it couldn’t be. Albee Rhodes? Governor Albee Rhodes? Why would Georgia’s esteemed governor be calling small-town cop Boone Braddock? But Chief of Police Stickler’s face had been unusually guarded when he’d insisted that Boone abandon the barking dog complaint he’d been filling out and take a phone call in Stickler’s private office.

      “I just want you to have some privacy,” the chief had said.

      Boone had wondered why he needed privacy. Had someone in his family taken ill or been in an accident? Boone had just spoken to his brother in Atlanta, and everything had been fine with his wife and Boone’s two adorable nieces. Boone’s mom and dad had been settled in a New Mexico RV park for the past week, enjoying retirement, so as far as he knew, everyone was fine in his world.

      Trying not to read anything dire into an unexpected call, Boone had picked up the phone in the chief’s office and said, “This is Braddock.”

      His announcement was followed by the booming voice of Georgia’s governor. “Boone, my boy! How are you? Long time no see, eh?” After a pause, the voice continued. “This is your governor, Boone.”

      Boone sank into Stickler’s oversized desk chair and took a deep breath. “Governor Rhodes?”

      “The one and only. I’m back in the bosom of my hometown for a short visit.”

      “That’s nice.” What was he supposed to say? Wanna get together for a beer?

      “How are your folks, Boone? Everybody okay?”

      “Yes, sir, all doing well.”

      “You and I haven’t had a real sit-down since your academy days.”

      Boone couldn’t recall any time he’d had a “sit-down” with the governor. Maybe the man was talking about the one time after Boone received his associate’s degree in law enforcement when the family was celebrating his accomplishment and Rhodes, in full-on political mode, had patted Boone on the back in the Mount Union Diner. Did that constitute a conversation? Boone didn’t think so.

      Undaunted by his misrepresentation of the facts, Albee continued. “Are you enjoying life as one of Mount Union’s finest?”

      Boone thought of the barking dog report and didn’t know quite how to answer the governor’s question. Boone had never lived anywhere else, he loved his hometown and being a cop here had a lot of rewards, but heart-thumping excitement wasn’t one of them. “It’s okay,” he finally managed to say.

      “Just had a long talk with Stickler about you, Boone. He says you’re doing a good job and that he can always count on you.”

      “Nice to know.”

      “Bet you’re wondering why I’m calling today.”

      That was an understatement. “I’m curious, yes, Governor.”

      “I have a special assignment for you, son. Stickler thinks you’d be perfect for the job, and I agreed with him. This is a family matter, Boone, and requires some tact, finesse, you know what I’m talking about.”

      Boone didn’t know. He did know that Albee’s wife had left him years ago, so this detail probably didn’t involve Miranda Rhodes. And the governor’s daughter, Susannah, had left Mount Union at least fifteen years ago, if he remembered correctly. When the governor made one of his infrequent stops in Mount Union, he was almost always alone in his big house on High River Road. Alone except for bodyguards and staff, that is.

      Boone gripped the phone more tightly. “What would you like me to do, sir?”

      “You’re acquainted with my daughter, Susannah, aren’t you?”

      Boone blinked. No way this had anything to do with Susannah Rhodes. Boone barely knew her, hardly remembered her.

      “You two kids were in high school together. You must have crossed paths.”

      “I think we were two years apart, sir. Susannah was a sophomore when I was a senior.” Boone’s mind jumped to a mind-boggling, impulsive moment in the equipment room outside the Mount Union High School gymnasium. A fresh-faced, pink-cheeked, honey-blond rich kid with a ponytail had pulled him alongside the wrestling mats and planted a remarkable kiss on his mouth. “I just wanted to do that,” she’d said before leaving him standing there like a beached bass gasping for air. Yes, he remembered Susannah and especially how she’d looked walking away from him.

      She probably would have been Albee’s pride and joy if she hadn’t been in trouble most of the time. At least that’s what was rumored about the father-daughter relationship.

      At the end of Susannah’s sophomore year, Albee had shipped her off to a private school for girls in Atlanta, and from that time on, she was only home during holidays. Because the Rhodes and Braddock families didn’t socialize—ever—Boone never saw her again. But he’d heard stories about her since, involving disciplinary problems at the school and even minor brushes with the law, mostly rebellious teen stuff. She traveled a lot, he knew that, seeming to prefer anywhere but quaint little Mount Union, Georgia. Boone wondered now if she’d settled down since she’d been out from under СКАЧАТЬ