Sarah And The Sheriff

“Do they have an after-school program?”

Eli was used to one in California—two supervised hours of sports and games that had never managed to produce completed homework the way it should have.

“No.”

Eli heaved a sigh. “I hate it here.”

Unfortunately, Max couldn’t say much to change his son’s opinion. Not when he remembered all too clearly feeling exactly the same way. He reached over and caught Eli behind the head, tousling his hair. “It’s only for a few months. Until Grandma’s all healed up and can go back to teaching school.” By then, hopefully, Max would have finished the job he’d been assigned. But Max didn’t tell Eli that. He wasn’t about to tell anyone in Weaver what his true purpose was there.

Someone was funneling meth through Weaver. It was coming out of Arizona by way of Colorado and heading north after Weaver, even—occasionally—on a locally contracted semi. But only occasionally.

The transports seemed to be wide and varied and Max’s job was to determine who was organizing the local hub.

It was a job he’d managed to avoid being assigned until his mom broke her leg two weeks earlier. She’d needed help. His boss had been putting on the pressure. So here they were. Father and son and neither one too thrilled about it.

“I’m already late, you know.” Eli dragged his backpack over his shoulder. It rustled against his slick coat. “On my first day. The teacher’ll probably be mad for the rest of the year.”

“I seriously doubt it,” Max drawled. His son had inherited his mother’s dramatic streak, as well.

“Is it a lady? Or a man?”

“Who?”

Eli started to roll his eyes again, but stopped at a look from Max. “The teach. I liked Mr. Frederick. He was cool.”

“I have no idea.”

Eli made a sound. “You didn’t ask?”

Max felt a pang of guilt. He’d been more preoccupied with this unexpected—and unappealing—assignment than with the identity of Eli’s temporary teacher. Max had only had a few days to take care of the school paperwork, as it was. But Eli was right about one thing. They were late. Both of them.

The sheriff had expected Max at the station nearly thirty minutes ago.

Great way to start off, Scalise.

He caught Eli’s jacket and nudged his son around the corner into the office when he spotted the sign.

A young woman he didn’t recognize smiled at them the moment they came into her view. “The new student,” she said cheerfully. “Welcome.”

Max heard the gritty sigh that came out of Eli and hoped he was the only one who heard it. He didn’t need Eli having trouble at this school. He needed everything to go as smoothly as possible. With no distractions, Max could finish his investigation as quickly as possible, and they could get the hell back out of Dodge. As soon as his mother could get back in the classroom.

Weaver held no great memories for him.

He was just as anxious to leave it again as Eli was. Telling his boy that, though, was not going to happen.

“Deputy Scalise—” the girl at the desk had risen “—I’m Donna. It’s nice to meet you in person. You, too, Eli. I’ll just let Principal Gage know you’re here.”

“He already knows.” A balding man approached from behind them, hand outstretched. “Max. Good to see you. Been a long time.”

“Joe.” He shook the principal’s hand. “Still can’t believe you’re head honcho here.” Joe Gage had been a hellion of the highest order back when they’d been kids. “Guess they don’t hold a little thing like blowing up the science room against a man.”

“Guess not. They made you a deputy, and you were in that room with me.”

“Whoa, Dad.” Eli sounded impressed.

The principal chuckled. “Come on. I’ll take you down to Eli’s class.” He looked at the boy as they stepped into the corridor once more. “Miss Clay. You’ll like her.”

Max’s boot heels scraped the hard floor. Clay. Another name from the past.

Well, why not?

The Clay family had plenty of members—seemed to him there’d been a teacher among them.

For a moment, he wished he’d been more inclined to listen to his mother’s talk of Weaver over the years. But she knew his reasons for not wanting to hear about the town well enough. Weaver was where Max’s father betrayed everyone they knew. It was where Tony Scalise had abandoned them. And on her visits to see him and Eli, she barely mentioned details about her life back home. Mostly because it generally led to an argument between them.

Max had wanted Genna to leave a long time ago. To join him in California.

For reasons that still escaped him, she’d been just as determined to stay.

The principal stopped in front of a closed classroom door. Through the big square window that comprised the top half of the door, he could see the rows of tables—situated in a sort of half circle—all occupied by kids about Eli’s size. At the head of the class, he caught a glimpse of the teacher. Slender as a reed, dressed in emerald green from head to toe. A little taller than average and definitely young, he noted. Her arms waved around her as she spun in a circle, almost as if she were acting out some play.

Max started to smile.

Then the teacher stopped, facing the door with its generous window head-on. Through the glass, her sky-blue eyes met his.

He felt the impact like a sucker punch to the kidneys.

He’d only known one woman with eyes that particular shade.

The principal pushed open the door. “Pardon the interruption, Miss Clay,” he said, ushering Eli inside. “This is your new student, Eli Scalise. Eli, this is Miss Clay.”

Max stood rooted to the floor outside the doorway.

Sarah.

She was no longer looking at him with those eyes that were as translucent as the Wyoming winter sky, but at Eli.

Her smile was warm. Slightly crooked. And it made Max wonder if he’d imagined the frigid way she’d looked at him through the window.

“Eli,” she greeted. “Come on in. Take off your coat. Can’t have you roasting to death on your first day here.” She gestured at the line of coats hanging on pegs. “We do our roasting only on Wednesdays.”

Eli shot Max a studiously bored look. But Max still saw the twitch of Eli’s lips.

A good sign. Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about Eli, after all.

He looked back at Sarah again.

What the hell was she doing here? A teacher of all things. When they’d been involved—