screwed up. I need to apologize.” She could never make up for the damage her accusation caused. Was it that thought that kept her from going in tonight? Or fear of the repudiation she expected from Maddie?
She hated knowing she was just plain scared.
“I looked into your file, you know,” he said. “Sloppy piece of police work. There was never a resolution to the crime. No charges were filed, no suspicions even noted.”
“I’m sure there weren’t. Sheriff Halstead didn’t believe me.”
“He didn’t even report the person you accused,” Sam said.
Jo knew he was fishing. Maybe it was too late to do anything about the crime against her, but she hated that the man had gotten away with it. What could she do to let people know the truth? Had he tried to rape other young girls since she’d left? The thought made her shudder. Yet when she’d told the law, nothing had been done.
She needed to talk to Maddie first, then she’d open up to Sam Witt. A sheriff ought to know what was going on in his jurisdiction.
SAM LEANED BACK ON the bench, wondering why he was trying to make conversation with a woman who obviously didn’t want to talk. His effort wasn’t all about trying to learn what really happened twelve years ago. He sensed an aloneness in her that was at odds with her attitude. He chastised himself. So now he was playing Dudley Do-Right? Trying to make everything okay for this stranger? Patty would say it was like him.
The thought of his wife brought the familiar ache into focus. Three years and he still missed her.
“Seem odd to be back?” he asked, refocusing on the situation at hand.
She nodded, not looking at him, her gaze on the children in the park.
“Staying long?” Getting her to talk was worse than interrogating hardened criminals.
She turned and looked at him. “I’m here for as long as I want to be. You have a problem with that?”
He recognized the cocky attitude as a cover-up. Touchy. “Not as long as you don’t cause any problems.”
She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet, flipping it open with practiced ease.
The gleam of the gold badge caught his eye. He took the wallet and read the identification card. Jo was a detective with the LAPD. That did surprise him. He tossed it back to her and studied her for a moment.
Just to yank her chain, he said, “Still, don’t be causing trouble in my town.”
CHAPTER TWO
“YOUR TOWN?” JO SAID, replacing the wallet.
“Adopted town.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“New Orleans before here. Born in Baton Rouge.”
“Quite a change of venue,” she said.
“I worked in the Big Easy PD a number of years.”
“Been here long?” she asked.
“A little over two years now.”
“And compared to New Orleans, this is satisfying?” she asked.
“It suits me. I worked the narcotics detail. It’s a never-ending battle.”
“But it’s a battle that has to be fought. I’m in drugs myself.”
Sam knew what she meant. It even made sense, remembering the dossier he’d read on Jo Hunter. Her mother was an addict. Kids often became crusaders against drugs—if they didn’t start using themselves.
“If you’re not going to the hospital, I’ll give you a ride home,” he said a few moments later. She seemed at a loss and Sam’s instincts rose. Part of the job of a cop was to help people, not only to catch criminals. He wanted to help this young woman, even though she probably didn’t feel she needed help. The attitude of hers would only cover so much.
She slanted him a glance. “Won’t that look great, first night home and already riding in a cop car.” He caught the hint of amusement.
“I’ll turn on the siren if you like,” he said.
She laughed at that and his breath hitched. She was lovely when she wasn’t trying to look and act like a street punk.
“Are you in disguise?” he asked.
“Undercover detail. I infiltrate high schools. Classy, huh?” she asked in self-mockery.
“You look young enough for it. Any luck?”
“Oh, yeah. More than I want. Several busts in the past couple of years. So three high schools and a junior high are safe for a little while. Until the next slimeball starts up trafficking. It’s a never-ending war, but one I’m willing to wage forever to rid the world of such bastards.”
“I felt that way.”
“Burned out?” she guessed.
Sam shrugged. Partially that, of course. But Patty’s death had been the final straw. He’d tried hard to make the world a better place, and lost his wife along the way. If he’d listened to her, they would have moved to a place like Maraville long ago, established comfortable lives, and Patty wouldn’t have been on that road the night the drunk careered into her.
“I’ll take you up on that ride, then screw up my courage to see Maddie in the morning.”
He rose. “Sounds like a plan.”
She stood beside him, coming to his chin. She was slender, almost boyish in figure. But strong-looking. Her bare arms were toned and tanned, probably from spending time at the beach in Southern California. He wondered what her hair looked like when it wasn’t spiked. Shorter than he liked on a woman.
He shook off the thought. He wasn’t interested in Jo Hunter as a woman. Was he?
She climbed into the passenger’s side of the car while Sam got behind the wheel.
“Was Jack over to dinner tonight?” he asked.
“Yes. He and Cade both. I felt the odd man out.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling. Eliza’s a great cook, and she’s always asking me over, but then it’s always the two couples and me.”
“Well, if I’m here next time you’re invited, you know you won’t be the only odd man out.”
“Staying long?” he asked again. She wasn’t coming on to him, was she?
“I wasn’t sure how Maddie was. I thought she was at death’s door. So I planned a flying visit to say I’m sorry. Now they want me to stay for the fund-raiser and to tell anyone who asks that Maddie never beat me. Then for April’s wedding. Sheesh, I could end up staying more than two weeks.”
“If you’re saying Maddie didn’t do it, who did?” Sam asked.
Jo wasn’t surprised at the question. He’d want to know. Everyone else would, too. Not that they’d likely believe her. Maddie hadn’t twelve years ago, and she knew Jo better than anyone.
“I have no problem telling everyone. But I want to talk with Maddie first. I wish the authorities had believed me twelve years ago. The bastard got away with criminal assault and I’m the one who got the shaft.”
“From what I can tell about my predecessor, he had trouble finding the office every day. Not a sterling example of law enforcement. But you can set the record straight with a name.”
She laughed softly. Sam liked hearing it.
The trip to the house on Poppin Hill ended too soon. One place wasn’t far from any other in Maraville. He stopped near the front porch, still occupied by April and Jack.
“Come