Josie looked at Jo’s outfit. “You’re on duty?”
“Like I said, Josie. Lots of unfamiliar faces around here.”
Normally, Jo’s concern for the safety of her town would result in a backhanded remark from the lady who owned R&B’s. Nothing happens in River Bend. We’re the safest town in the world. Nobody even locks their doors. Something . . . anything to make Jo think she was acting paranoid.
Instead, Josie saluted two fingers in the air and said, “I got ya covered.” Then she disappeared to take care of Jo’s order.
She was simply the sheriff in town to most people. A few of her high school acquaintances would justify calling her Jo when she was dressed down and sitting at R&B’s, which wasn’t something she did often, and not at all since Ziggy was back.
The man had completely changed her routine. Even running with the cross-country team felt like she was exposing herself to some kind of danger. Danger that had nothing to do with wildlife.
“Here ya go.”
Jo took her glass and moved from her perch of observation.
A couple of friendly waves escorted her as she walked to the lone pool table.
An entire group of men, probably in their midthirties, took turns rolling heavy balls into pockets with a stick. She didn’t recognize any of them. Turning at least one head as she walked by, she stopped in front of the jukebox and pretended to scan her choices.
Eavesdropping on a conversation was always difficult in a bar, but she managed.
“It will be like prospecting in the Klondike. Livin’ in our RVs for months.” Jo didn’t turn to see who spoke, she just swayed to the music and dug a quarter from her pocket.
“Don’t mind that. Get away from my ol’ lady,” another voice said.
“She won’t catch you boinkin’ a new flavor either.”
Laughter along with the sound of two balls colliding interrupted their conversation.
“I don’t see much around here to play with.”
“Oh, I don’t know . . .”
Jo felt heat on her ass . . . the kind a woman feels when she knows it’s being stared at.
She made a selection and moved away without turning around. The last thing she needed was someone in that crowd picking up on her. Anonymity was her friend right now.
She eased around the back and waved to Buddy in the kitchen. “Looks like you’re gettin’ your workout.” The man was running like a real short-order cook.
“Yeah, how about you get that fancy chef friend of yours in here to help me?”
Jo laughed at the thought of Zoe in the back of R&B’s. “Good luck with that. See anything off around here?”
Buddy shot her a glance.
“C’mon, I know Luke talked to ya.”
He shoved something fried into the service window.
“I haven’t seen that guy everyone is talkin’ about,” Buddy said. “There are a couple of quiet ones that come in. Seem to be lookin’ more than drinkin’.”
Jo turned back around to scan the place.
“They’re not in here tonight.”
“Any particular day they show up?”
“When it’s busy. I’m guessin’ to blend in.”
“So the weekends?”
He rang the bell to get one of the waitresses’ attention.
“Seems like every night is a weekend around here lately.”
She tapped the counter. “Thanks, Buddy.”
Jo felt eyes on her ass as she walked past the pool table and again when she set her drink on the counter with a five-dollar bill.
Outside, Jo walked the parking lot with her cell phone in her hand. To the casual observer she might look like she was checking her messages, but in reality, the video function did a great job of capturing license plate numbers that she could run when she went into the station.
Satisfied she had what she needed, she rounded the back of her Jeep, heard gravel kick behind her with footsteps, and turned around with her gun in her hand.
“Holy shit, woman!”
The guy behind her was one of the men at the pool table. He had both hands in the air, his eyes leveled on her service weapon.
She pointed the muzzle toward the sky and took her finger off the trigger.
“Sneaking up behind people will get you shot.” She made no apology to the stranger, though she knew her reaction was overkill. Her heart rate was shooting over the top, her eyes hyperaware of the darkness beyond the parking lot.
Calm the hell down! she yelled at herself.
He took a step back, hands still high. “Way too much work.” He stopped staring at the gun to look her up and down. “Too bad.” Then he turned and walked away.
For a full minute, she leaned against her Jeep and pulled her shit together.
She returned her gun to her shoulder harness and opened the Jeep door.
Then she heard clapping.
“Well done.”
The shadow of a man stood on the other side of the street, leaning against a tree.
Three steps out of the light given off by R&B’s lot and Jo’s focus matched the face with the voice.
“You’re mighty close to breaking your parole, Ziggy.”
“A hundred yards.” He nodded toward the bar. “I’m guessing I’m at least two.”
She stepped close enough to see his eyes, maybe catch alcohol on his breath. Anything to pull him in on a charge that would take him back to jail.
“You always threaten civilians with those guns of yours, JoAnne?”
“It’s Sheriff to you, Mr. Brown.”
He leered a slow slide down her body and back up. “You don’t look like a cop tonight.”
Jo shook off the feeling of walking into a spiderweb the size of a house, filled with a new hatch of eight-legged creepers.
“I’m always a cop, Mr. Brown. Now how about you tell me what you’re doing out, in the dark, at ten o’clock at night?”
He shifted his frame off the tree and stretched his arms over his head. “Rained most the day. I needed to get my exercise in. I’m not much welcome in town. Can’t help it if R&B’s is on the road.”
She didn’t buy it. “You’re out for a walk?”
“Free country. And I’m a free man.”
“You’re on a leash.”
The smile on his face faded.
“You like to tie ’em up, do ya, Sheriff?”
The conversation made her want to heave. If it weren’t for the fact that she had her gun within reach, she would have ended the conversation before it began.
Noise from inside the bar drifted out as a group exited the building.
“I’m watching you, Ziggy.”
He lifted his defiant chin. “You do that.”
She wanted to shoot him just on principle. Instead, she took the few steps to her Jeep, got in, and then blinded him with her headlights.
Ziggy put his hands in his pockets.
Jo put a hand on her gun.
Then he turned and made his way back toward home.
She passed him on the road ten minutes later.
It started to rain.
Ziggy had sat across the street from R&B’s waiting for his contact. He needed a ticket out of this one-cop town. Needed a place where he could walk into a liquor store and buy a fucking beer. To do that, he needed money. The pennies Sheryl brought home were nothing, barely enough to eat off of.