Small-Town Secrets

“Why?” she asked.

“I’d like to interview you for the newspaper. See how you feel being Warm Springs’s first female detective. What prompted you to move to Warm Springs. Human interest stuff,” he explained.

Stuff? He didn’t sound like any reporter she’d ever come across.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Becker.” She didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. “But right now, I’m in the midst of fixing dinner.”

“How about we talk over breakfast tomorrow?”

“I like to have breakfast with my kids.”

“Lunch? They’ll be in school then, right?”

She gave him points for figuring that one out.

“This isn’t a good time, Mr. Becker. I’m still settling in.” She wasn’t about to tell him she hated interviews. People usually spelled her name wrong or made her sound as if she was an avenging angel with PMS. “No free time at all.”

“I’m sure you are busy, Detective. But wouldn’t you want the people to know about the woman behind the badge? Show them that while you’re wearing that badge and carrying a gun, you’re still a mom and a human being?”

“Not my style,” she retorted.

“Then why don’t we talk about something that is your style,” he suggested. “Something I think you’d like to know.”

Bree felt a familiar tingle at the base of her neck. She’d never ignored the warning signal before, and a few times it had even saved her life.

How could something happen in this small town when she was barely unpacked? She could feel her jaw tightening. She didn’t know what was going on, but felt this was more than a request for an interview.

“Tomorrow. Lunch. One o’clock,” she rattled. “I’ll leave the choice of restaurant up to you. I haven’t learned which ones are better than others.”

“Then I’ll make it easy for you. Two doors down from you is The Eatery. I’ll see you there at one.” He hung up.

Bree stared at her phone before she set it back in the cradle. “It’s not as if you’re marrying the man, Bree. Just think of it as a free meal,” she murmured as she turned to the oven when the timer dinged. “Dinner!” she called out.

Instead of the clatter of three sets of feet that normally followed her announcement, three quiet souls marched into the kitchen. They started to take their seats, then instantly rose up in response to their mom’s telling stare.

Sara headed for the refrigerator and pulled out the bottles of salad dressing. Cody filled glasses with iced tea and milk, while David carried the casserole dish over to the table.

Bree pasted on a bright smile as she sat down. “So, tell me about your day,” she urged in her best June Cleaver voice.

They all looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“So Cole Becker’s going to interview you today?” Roy grinned at Bree’s look of astonishment. “No secrecy in this town, Fitzpatrick. Someone asked about you when I stopped for coffee. You’ll have to get used to everyone knowing your business.”

“I should have cleared it with you first,” she said uneasily, silently damning Cole Becker to hell. “He said it’s purely a human interest type story about the new arrival in town.”

“Don’t worry about it, Fitzpatrick,” the sheriff replied. “Becker’s like one of those bloodhounds who refuses to give up. Believe me, if you hadn’t agreed to the interview, he would have found another way. He’s one persistent son of a bitch,” he said without rancor.

“You don’t need to worry about my saying anything I shouldn’t. I’ve dealt with the press in the past without any dire consequences,” she assured him. Her stomach was already roiling at the thought of sharing a meal with a man who sounded like the devil incarnate. “I can tell him I can’t make it.”

Roy shook his head. “I can tell you haven’t dealt with this man. Don’t worry about it. Take advantage of him picking up the tab. Sit there and smile at the guy. Tell him you came out here so your kids would grow up breathing clean air.”

Bree grimaced. “I really prefer not talking about my children to the media,” she told him. “I think you can realize why.”

Her superior looked at her and nodded in understanding. As police officers, they were fully aware of just how vulnerable kids today were.

“Bree, you’re living in a small town now. Everyone knew everything there was to know about you within ten minutes of you moving in. I’ll be the first to tell you your kids are safer here than they would have been in L.A. I’m not saying we haven’t seen problems with drugs, but we’ve been pretty successful in keeping the gangs out, and any kid caught with drugs finds out just how stupid he or she is. Cole’s looking for human interest fluff for his readers. Give him what he wants and he’ll go away. Trust me,” he told her in a soothing voice.

“If it was my choice I’d rather have a root canal without anesthesia,” she muttered, rising to her feet.

Roy laughed out loud. “Yeah, but you don’t get a free meal out of a root canal.”

“Then maybe you should do the interview,” she murmured, leaving the office.

Bree’s first alert that something was wrong was the way Jinx stood by her desk. His entire body vibrated with the need for action.

“So what did they do, huh, boy?” she whispered, sitting at her desk. She didn’t have to look around to notice everyone’s attention was centered on her, even if no one looked in her direction. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

She didn’t miss the sound of Frank Robert’s malicious chuckle from the other side of the room.

She swiftly reviewed past misdeeds thought up by co-workers. The flour bomb left in a desk drawer. Her picture pasted on top of a Playboy centerfold. Fake vomit placed under her desk chair. She affectionately called the perpetrators her own juvenile delinquents. And she did her own damage when the occasion arose.

She found what she was looking for in the second drawer. As soon as she opened it, a triangular head slid upward and a narrow, forked tongue flicked out to test the air. Bree leaned back a bit as a long, sinuous column swept toward her, seeking the heat of her body.

“Well, aren’t you a cutie,” she cooed, picking up the snake, which immediately wrapped itself around her arm. “And what did they arrest you for?” She glanced at Jinx, who whined in displeasure at having such a creature invade his partner’s private space. She had no doubt every eye was on her. “A rosy boa, isn’t he?” she said to no one in particular. She stroked the reptile’s head. “My oldest son has one.”

Keith, one of the deputies, rose to his feet. He looked a little uneasy as he approached her. “So that’s where he got to,” he chuckled, but the sound came out forced. “Mabel’s my son’s snake,” he explained, walking over with his hand outstretched, ready to take the boa from her.

“Mabel,” Bree murmured as she studied the reptile, which seemed content to remain wrapped around her arm. “Interesting name. Ours is named David Boa.” She grinned.

This time Keith’s chuckle was more natural as he understood the twist on words. As he turned, he caught sight of Frank’s dark expression. He turned away immediately.

“Keith, do you have some place for Mabel or should I just put her back in my desk?” Bree asked. “She seemed to have made herself at home there.”

His face reddened even more. “Ah, I’ve got a box in my locker.”

“She can stay here until you get back.” She set the snake back in the drawer.

Bree noticed some of the men looked wary, but a few still appeared hostile. She sensed this was just the beginning of pranks meant to test a new colleague.

But Bree wasn’t easily intimidated.

Since it was getting close to the time for her lunch meeting, she walked Jinx outside to the small fenced enclosure fixed up for him. She made sure he had plenty of water before she closed the gate after him.

“Can you believe those guys thought they could scare me with a measly snake?” she asked her canine partner. “As if that would do it. I have teenagers, for God’s sake!”

She went back inside and stopped in the ladies’ room long enough to freshen her lipstick and cologne. She knew her outfit was professional looking, with a touch of femininity—a square of lace peeking out of the pocket on her navy houndstooth vest, topping navy linen pants. She made sure her pager was switched on, then grabbed her purse and left.

Now to see if the man looked as good as he sounded.