Making It Right (Most Likely To #3)

Jo had to smile. “I’m good.”


Hours later, Billy snored in the holding cell, and Jo clutched an ice bag to her left forearm. The takedown was going to leave a bruise. She lay down on the worn brown leather sofa in her dad’s old office and put her head on a tiny pillow.

“You know, Dad,” she said to the ceiling, as if her father was hovering over her in some angelic, biblical way, “I always thought you were full of it when you said you slept on this couch. I always thought you had a girlfriend you were keeping from me when you didn’t come home at night.”

The room grew silent when she stopped talking to the air.

Her father didn’t answer.

But she smiled into the thought that maybe he heard her as she closed her eyes and let the clock lure her to sleep.



“Knock, knock!” Zoe’s voice shot Jo out of her sleep and straight up off the sofa.

“Holy . . .”

Daylight.

Office.

Bar fight.

Billy Ray.

She grabbed the back of her neck, certain she managed whiplash with the simple task of jumping from a dead sleep.

“Did I wake you?” Zoe was all smiles and rainbows.

“What time is it?” Jo closed her eyes against the light.

“Six thirty.”

Zoe held a basket that smelled of yeast and sugar. “Got a call from Josie late last night letting me know you were probably camped out here keeping watch over Billy Ray. I thought you might need something to eat.”

Jo’s hand moved from her neck to her back as she stood. “I’m getting too old for this.”

Zoe laughed as she turned away and into the center of the station. “You’re not even thirty.”

“Another month.”

Jo followed her out, forcing the kinks out of her joints with every step. She probably should get a new sofa for her office, even if the budget couldn’t afford her one. Summer always posed the opportunity for her to spend a night in her own jail. On the right side of the bars, at least.

Jo glanced around the reception desk and scratched her head. “Is Glynis here?”

Zoe removed what looked like something sinfully sweet, along with a small crock that smelled of eggs and cheese. “Nope. She doesn’t come in until eight, right?”

“How did you get in here?”

“C’mon, Jo . . . really? We’re the ones that hid the spare key the summer of our junior year.”

She dumped yesterday’s day old coffee into the sink and rinsed it out. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into breaking into your dad’s office back then.”

“We didn’t break in . . . we had a key.”

Zoe licked her finger as she leaned against the table. “Oh, yeah . . . and what would you say to anyone who gave you that line now?”

Jo paused. “No wonder my dad was turning gray before he hit fifty.” She’d been thirty shades of shitty when she was a kid, something she could never atone for since her father was gone. She scooped out the coffee grounds and made a thick blend that would help her wake the dead, namely her.

She glanced at the offerings Zoe brought. “I should probably check on Billy.”

“Oh, he’s fine. Sleeping like a baby.”

The door leading to the one holding cell was cracked open enough to hear him call out for help but closed enough to not hear his snores, which had threatened to keep her up most of the night.

Jo settled into a chair, pulled the warm pastry from the basket. “You’re like Mary Poppins with a bag full of goodies.”

“It’s a basket,” Zoe said with a smile.

“Even better.” She tore off a chunk and popped it into her mouth. Jo closed her eyes and hummed. “Have I told you how much I love you being back in town?”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d swear you’re using me for my culinary skills.”

Jo pulled off another piece, talked around the food in her mouth. “Oh, I am. No doubt about that.”

They both laughed.

The coffeepot buzzed, signaling it was time for a hefty dose of caffeine.

Jo offset the bitter brew with a truckload of sugar. “Have you heard from Zane?” she asked as she took her first sip.

“He called night before last. Said he might be moved from Virginia to North Carolina.”

Zoe’s brother, Zane, had joined the marines shortly after Ziggy, their father, had been shot and killed the previous year. Sheryl, Zoe’s mom, sat in a woman’s penitentiary for voluntary manslaughter for shooting her husband. Even though the woman was protecting her children, she still ended up with a three-year sentence with a mandated one year to be served. Jo didn’t think the courts would keep her all three years. Ziggy’s long history of violence and abuse weighed heavily on the case. The chances of her getting out and being anything but a mouse in need of a hole to sleep in were slim to none. She’d been beaten down her whole life; she would suffer even more behind bars.

“More training?” Jo asked, redirecting her thoughts to Zane.

“He said something about tactical. He sounded excited.” Zoe smiled like a proud sister should.

“I’m so happy he joined.”

“Me, too.”

Rattling of metal on metal brought their attention to the door to the holding cell. “Jo . . . I mean, Sheriff . . . you out there?”

Jo took another swig of her coffee before setting the cup aside. “Looks like I’m on.”

Zoe tapped her toe against the air as Jo made her way to the back.

Billy Ray’s bed head hair, rumpled shirt, and bloodshot eyes suggested his night was just as bad as Jo’s. “Look who sobered up.”

He looked past her to the open door. “I take it my mom didn’t want to come down and pick me up?”

She leaned against the door frame. “She didn’t answer the phone. I’m not even sure I had the right number.” There was no way she was getting his mother out of bed to take care of his drunk ass.

Billy narrowed his eyes. “You have everyone’s numbers.”

“Everyone who ends up on that side of the bars,” she corrected.

“But I’ve . . .”

Yeah, he’d been there before. “Dustin isn’t pressing charges,” she told him.

Billy sighed in relief.

“But disobeying a direct order from a peace officer . . .”

Billy looked up and met her gaze.

“I’m sorry, Jo. Steve and I had been drinking. Opal’s my sister . . . I couldn’t just sit there.”

She took a step forward. “You didn’t just sit there, you ended up sleeping here. Is Opal’s broken engagement worth a police record, Billy? Do you think your mom needs to deal with this kinda thing?” Billy had always been a mama’s boy, hence the reason he was still living with the woman at twenty-five.

“I’m sorry.”

Funny, the man actually looked sorry.

She grabbed the key to the cell and moved to open the door. “In case you missed it, you’re not invited to R&B’s for six months.”

He muttered something under his breath.

“And if I see you anywhere near Dustin causing trouble, I’m going to cuff you first and ask questions later . . . got it?”