Kiss Me, Sheriff!

Rats. Instantly, Willa felt dizzy with fatigue. Multiple-person meetings often meant sitting through a sales pitch about some brilliant new mixer or a better brand of bread flour. Willa honestly didn’t know if she could remain upright for that today. And then she focused long enough to recognize someone else at the table.

Derek. Sitting with his back ramrod straight, hands resting on his thighs, he was looking, not at her for once, but at the people seated opposite him. One was a dark-haired man in his twenties and one was a boy.

“Thanks for coming.” Izzy got up and motioned Willa to the seat she’d just left.

Derek took a moment to nod at her, but kept his attention mostly on the young man and the boy seated with them at the table. The young man was scowling and turned his glare on Willa as she sat. The boy refused to glance her way at all.

“Sheriff Neel asked me to call you,” Izzy explained, standing beside the table, “since you were the one who saw the donation jar being stolen.”

“Thanks for coming in.” Derek nodded at her. “Gilberto—” he gestured to the boy “—admits to taking the donation jar. Unfortunately, the money has already changed hands. Gilberto was using it to purchase a bike. When I ran after him, the teen selling the bike took off in another direction. So far, Gilberto doesn’t want to give me the name of the other boy.”

“You better give it.” The younger man leaned across the table, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. “You want to go down for some jerk who left you to face a cop on your own? You’re bringing disrespect to your family, Gilberto. You better pick who you’re going to be loyal to, and pick fast.”

Willa saw Derek’s chest rise on a deep inhalation.

The boy cringed. You’re bringing disrespect to your family. So the boy and the man were related. It seemed obvious now. They both had latte-colored skin, black hair, dark eyes and similar features. The resemblance stopped there, however. Gilberto had a shy, nervous demeanor; by contrast, his relative wore resentment and belligerence like a second skin.

“I’m telling you, Gilberto, if you bring any more trouble home, I’m going to—” Cutting himself off, he thumped his balled fist against the table.

Derek’s entire body tensed.

Like a puppy trying to evade his master’s anger, Gilberto kept his eyes averted. He blinked several times rapidly. Willa recognized that expression: a child trying desperately not to cry in public. A child in pain.

“Excuse me,” she said to the man, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Roddy.”

“Roddy. And are you Gilberto’s...father?”

“Hell, no! That would make me, like, fifteen when he was born. I been more careful than that.” He pointed between Gilberto and himself. “We’re blood, so anything anybody’s got to say goes through me. If he stole from you, I deal with it.”

“If he stole, the law will deal with it, Mr. Lopez,” Derek interjected, his voice calm, but every muscle in his body rigid. “What is your relationship exactly?”

“He’s my cousin. I can take care of him.”

Derek nodded slowly. “I appreciate your taking responsibility and asking Gilberto to do the same, but the law is involved now. We’ll be keeping our eye on the situation. The whole situation.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just what I said. Our interest in Gilberto will continue.”

Derek was giving the man a clear message that abuse would not be tolerated. But Mr. Lopez was a bully, and Willa knew Derek wouldn’t be able to intervene in their daily lives. More sadness washed through her. Not your business. Stick to your own business. She looked at Gilberto. “He didn’t steal from me. He looks a lot like the boy who was in here yesterday, but...it’s not him.”

Gilberto’s surprise was palpable. Derek looked at her. “He nodded when I asked if he took the donation jar.”

“He’s not the one.”

Derek turned back to the boy. “Why did you nod?” he asked.

Evading everyone’s gaze, Gilberto shrugged.

It was clear the men were about to cross-examine him. “Maybe he was afraid,” she offered, “and thought things would be easier if he told you what you wanted to hear.”

“Is that what happened?” Derek questioned.

Gilberto shrugged again.

Roddy smacked his hands on his thighs and slid low in his seat, tossing back his head. “Aw! Are you crazy? You lied to get into trouble. Cops love stupid suspects like you.” He looked at Derek. “No offense, man.”

Derek stared long enough to make Roddy sit up in his seat. “None taken.” Then he turned his attention back to Gilberto. The next obvious question was Where did you get the money you were exchanging for the bike? but Derek didn’t ask it. After a moment, he rose. “Make sure you’re in school when you’re supposed to be. I’ll be checking with your teacher and the principal. Don’t make me come look for you.”

Gilberto nodded. He looked miserable still, but relieved and more than a little surprised. Was it over?

Willa supposed she was excused from the meeting and pushed back her chair.

“Walk me to the door, Ms. Holmes.” In an official tone, Derek commanded rather than asked for her compliance.

Izzy appeared bemused by the entire exchange and simply shook her head. “I’m heading back to the deli. I’m sorry for the confusion, Mr. Lopez. Please feel free to order something on the house.” Walking around them all, Izzy was the first out the door, followed swiftly by Roddy, who pushed Gilberto along in front of him, saying they’d take a rain check on the free snacks.

Now that her burst of adrenaline was spent, Willa felt exhausted all over again and proceeded heavily to the exit. Every movement felt like a Herculean effort. Raising his arm over her, Derek held the door while she passed through. Willa burrowed into her jacket, as she stepped onto a rain-sprinkled sidewalk. By tacit agreement, they walked several paces past the bakery then stopped.

“Thanks for going to the station last night to give the description of the boy who stole the money.” Not bothered by the cold or the rain, Derek towered above her, six foot plus of straight-backed sheriff. “And for coming back to the bakery this afternoon. I thought it might be easier for everyone if we handled it away from my office. You know, still official, but less intimidating. I anticipated that would make it easier to figure out where we would go from here to help Gilberto.”

Willa felt Derek studying her, but she kept her tired gaze on the street, watching the occasional car roll past.

“What I didn’t figure on,” he continued, “was walking away with mud on my face. I didn’t figure on you.”

She glanced up to see the first hint of anger she’d ever noticed him directing toward her.

Resting both hands on his gun belt, he shook his head. “I’m a good judge of people. In my line of work, you have to be. But this time, I blew it. I never, ever judged you to be a liar.”

Chapter Four (#u5c0aa684-b2a7-5121-9d37-16948672bda5)

“A liar?”

Fire-engine red filled Willa’s body, flared in her face. She wouldn’t be surprised if the color poured in jets of steam from her ears. He was calling her a liar?

Okay, she had lied. But the reason ought to be obvious.

Her fists were stuffed into the pockets of her thin coat. Pulling one hand out, she jabbed a finger toward the end of the street and stormed off, rounding the corner, not stopping until she reached the alley. “How dare you?” Her voice shook. “I told you I didn’t want to get involved in this, but you had to keep pushing. If you could take no for an answer, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

The implication of her words hit them both at the same time. He hadn’t accepted her “no” regarding Gilberto, and he hadn’t accepted her “no” regarding the two of them.

Derek’s face grew stormier. “The problem was already here. If you think anything else, you’re being naïve.”

Was he talking about Gilberto now or her? Willa pointed toward the bakery. “That man—Roddy,” she said. “He was going to make that poor kid’s life a nightmare.”

“That ‘poor kid’ is going to make his own life a nightmare if he meets his needs by stealing. Roddy talks big, but he has a record, too. Petty crime is a family affair.”