The Deputy's Perfect Match

Caroline’s gaze flitted toward the plate-glass window overlooking the town square. “She hasn’t exactly said anything...”

He crossed his arms over his brown uniform. “What has she done to raise your suspicions?”

Amelia fiddled with packets of sweetener. “She’s always hanging around our family. Trying to insinuate herself. She insisted on helping Daddy grill hot dogs for the Fourth of July cookout. And she wanted to be my nursery helper during Vacation Bible School in June, but not help Miss Pauline’s second-grade class.”

He rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Right. ’Cause such civic and church behaviors are so often warning signs for deeper, deviant issues.”

Caroline glared. “You need to get serious about this, Charlie.”

“You three need to get serious. Ever think maybe you have overactive imaginations?” He blew a breath between his lips. “Or a paranoia complex?”

Amelia shook her head. “I thought the same as you, Charlie. That Honey was imagining things, until I started noticing the librarian’s behavior. She has a way of almost disappearing into the background. Then suddenly you realize she’s been there listening the whole time.”

Charlie fought for patience. “Why am I not surprised this originated with Honey?”

Honey’s eyebrows arched. “Are you implying I’m a drama queen?”

“If the pearls fit...” He shrugged.

Caroline bit back a smile. “Be that as it may, Honey’s right. Once she expressed her concern, I noticed how Miss Shaw is always studying the Duers. Not staring at the Colonnas or the Turners. Just us.”

He frowned. “Like a stalker?”

“She watches us.” Honey folded her hands over her rounded abdomen. “Especially Sawyer.”

“This is about...?” Charlie hardened his heart. “I’m outta here.” He began easing out of the booth.

“Miss Shaw watches all of us,” Honey said. “Sawyer most of all. But not in a romantic way. It’s just strange. And it scares me.” Her brown eyes misted. “Please, Charlie. We were friends once...”

He stilled. Friends...when he’d hoped for so much more. But old loyalty to Honey warred with his better judgment.

“I cannot utilize official resources without legal justification.”

Caroline leaned forward. “But unofficially, could you make inquiries? At least talk to her?”

“You want me to spy on her?” His voice rose. “Seriously?”

Caroline’s mouth thinned. “Just get to know her. Find out what she’s after.”

Amelia lifted her chin. “Honey’s seven months pregnant, Charlie. She doesn’t need this kind of stress in her life.”

Honey’s lips trembled. “Please, Charlie...”

Charlie raked his hand over his head. “An unofficial investigation only. I’ll nose around. See what I learn.”

Amelia and Caroline exchanged relieved looks.

Honey smiled. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“And if I find nothing suspicious...” He motioned in the general direction of the Kiptohanock library. “You’ll let go of this, and leave the poor woman alone.”

“Why sure, Charlie boy.” Amelia winked at Caroline. “We’ll welcome her with open arms to our little fishing hamlet. Give her the same warm red-carpet treatment we give every ’come here.”

“You do that.” He edged out of the booth. “’Cause I’d sure hate to have to lock three Kiptohanock mothers in the county jail.”

Charlie made a show of placing his hat upon his head. “Not that I’m afraid to arrest the three of you Duers. I’m thinking more about the safety of the other inmates.”

Before the ladies could protest, he threw down enough bills to cover the price of coffee and Long John doughnuts. The lingering aromas of ham, fried potatoes and pancakes followed him across the crowded diner.

He yanked open the glass door in a whoosh of air. With a jingle of bells, he exited the café to do his duty. Which promised to be about as much fun as being Tasered.

Charlie shot a swift look at his watch. He’d have to hurry. No telling when the next call would come from Dispatch.

The cawing of seagulls vied with the sounds of water lapping against the town docks. The scent of brine filled his nostrils as he made his way past the gazebo on the square.

On the wide-planked steps of the brick Victorian that housed the library, he pivoted for one final look at his patrol cruiser in the parking lot of the Sandpiper. Out of habit, he surveyed the town.

The narrow Delmarva Peninsula—composed of portions of Delaware, Maryland and Virginia—separated the Chesapeake Bay and mainland from the Atlantic Ocean. The fishing village of Kiptohanock, Virginia lay seaside.

A white clapboard church hugged the Kiptohanock shoreline. Its steeple pierced the blue sky. Recreational and commercial fishing boats bobbed in the harbor.

Charlie’s gaze skimmed past the post office. The outfitter and boat repair shops. In the gentle sea breeze, flags fluttered outside the Coast Guard station. Emanating from the village green like spokes on a wheel, gingerbread-trimmed homes meandered down leaf-canopied lanes.

Home. It was his job to do everything in his power to protect Kiptohanock and the people who resided here. Including assess the threat level of a librarian?

Charlie removed his hat and grunted. Talk about fool’s errands. Swinging the stout oak door open wide, he ventured inside the cool interior. He waited in the high-ceilinged foyer and allowed his eyes to adjust from the bright glare of the midmorning sunshine to the more subdued lighting of the library.

No one manned the librarian’s desk at the base of the curving mahogany staircase. The cushy grouping of chairs also remained empty. From brief forays on behalf of long-ago high school projects, Charlie remembered that upstairs lay the fiction and science rooms.

He wasn’t fond of books. Nor was the library one of his favorite places. These days, once off duty and motionless, he went to sleep.

But he doubted much had changed in the library after old Mrs. Beal retired a few months ago. Nothing in Kiptohanock ever changed much. Which was exactly why he liked it here.

To the right, the oak-paneled room contained the reference section and a bank of desks topped by computer screens. But to the left, the soft murmur of voices drew him forward. Where he discovered chest-high bookshelves surrounding an open area with a large green rug.

A cluster of kids hunched over a book with a fierce dog on the cover. One of the children turned the page. There were giggles. The blonde child in the center of the group glanced up as his shadow fell across them.

The blonde child passed the book to Caroline Clark’s new stepdaughter, “I didn’t hear you come in.” The blonde rose in a fluid motion.

He blinked. She wasn’t a child. Just a very small, blonde adult. This five-foot nothing waif was the person shadowing the Duer family?

At six-foot-three, Charlie towered over the petite blonde. “You’re the new librarian?”

She tilted her head to meet his gaze. Her wheat-colored ponytail danced across her shoulders. “Yes, I am.”

In a glance, she took him in—from his creased khaki uniform trousers to the tie adorning his short-sleeved summer uniform shirt to his dark hair. And finally coming to rest upon the tan hat he carried in his hands.

Behind her black horn-rimmed glasses, her large blue eyes appeared owlish. Uncertainty flickered. “Can I help you, Officer? Is there a problem?”