“I’m still angry, but I’ll control my driving.”
He touched the edge of his hat and turned to head back to the patrol vehicle.
“Hey, Sheriff,” she called, leaning out of the window.
He turned.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He nodded, wondering again what it was about her that intrigued him. She wasn’t his usual type, if indeed he even had one. He liked small, blond women who loved to cook and had the flesh on their bones to prove it. Like Patty. Not that he was interested in Jo in a personal way. He still loved his wife and couldn’t imagine moving on and opening himself up to a potential loss again. Still, if he never saw Jo Hunter again, he thought he’d miss something.
He continued to the patrol car and got in. Jo took off, driving just under the speed limit. He smiled. That speed would probably last only as long as she stayed in sight.
He had work to do. Pulling away from the side of the road, he soon passed her. She waved but did not increase her speed.
HER SPEEDING WAS STUPID, Jo thought as she watched Sam’s car disappear into the distance. She knew better than most that excessive speed was the cause of most road accidents; she’d cleared her share of bodies from automobile crashes.
On impulse, she checked to make sure there was no traffic, then made a U-turn in the middle of the highway. Heading back to town, she made up her mind. She would stay around and help out at the Independence Day picnic. She owed it to Maddie. And she wanted to visit with Eliza and April just a little longer. She’d missed them so much over the years.
If April still wanted her for the wedding, she’d stay for that, as well. Any hardships, she’d view as penance for her sins.
When she turned into the driveway, she remembered abandoning Eliza and April at the hospital. Eliza’s van was gone now. Obviously they’d found a ride home or walked. Eliza had told Jo about starting a catering business in Maraville. She sounded as if she had the credentials to work anyplace she wanted. Jo couldn’t believe she’d chosen Maraville. Some things still had the power to surprise her.
The sound of construction filled the air. She saw that some of the windows were open, letting out the cool air and the sound. It would be another week or two before the crew finished.
Then the house was scheduled to be approved as a home for unwed, pregnant teens who had nowhere else to turn.
She slowly climbed the three shallow steps to the porch, the din in the house uninviting. Where was April? Had she come home with Eliza or gone off to see Jack? For the first time since leaving Maraville all those years ago, Jo wished she had someone special herself. Someone she could talk to about how she felt. Someone whose advice she could seek to help her decide what to do next. Someone who would accept her just as she was and like her.
A few minutes later, determining April wasn’t around, Jo was at loose ends. She headed back to town. Might as well while away the time walking around and reacquainting herself with Maraville. Maybe she’d run into an old school friend or two.
She cut over to the high school. The building was smaller than she remembered. The yard stood empty, only a single car in the parking lot. No one hung around during summer break, not even the teachers.
Continuing her walk, Jo soon came to the main street of town. Ahead on the right was the bank. Acting on impulse, she entered the old building. The columns supporting the ceiling were made of marble, as was the floor. She found the old-fashioned ornate fretwork on the ceiling reassuring. At least they hadn’t torn down the old building to make way for progress.
The object of her interest was not in view. Maybe he no longer worked here. It had been twelve years. Who knew what happened to people in that time? Maybe he’d attacked someone else who had been believed and he’d been arrested and sent to prison.
She walked around, unaware at first of the interest she was causing. When she caught the eye of the guard, she knew her attire set off internal alarms. Maybe April had been right, and all black attire with motorcycle boots was a mistake. Or was it the spiky hair?
She turned to leave when she heard the hated voice. Heading for the door, she glanced over her shoulder. Allen McLennon was escorting an elderly woman from an office. He spoke again. Jo couldn’t hear the words, only the smarmy tone of his voice.
Her stomach lurched. Her heart pounded. The man she’d hated for twelve years was only a yard away. What would happen if he saw her? Would he recognize her, or be more concerned about her less-than-conservative appearance? She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked older. Had put on a few pounds. But he still looked fit and strong. Strong enough to beat a teenager who fought off his attempts at seduction, or worse.
“Can I help you?” The guard had come up beside Jo without her being aware. Such inattention in her normal life could get her killed.
She looked at him and shook her head. “I’m just leaving.”
He didn’t say anything more, but watched her until she was out of the door. Once on the sidewalk, Jo took a deep breath.
“Casing the joint?” Sam Witt asked.
She jumped and turned to see the sheriff standing behind her. How had she missed him when she left the bank? Gee, at this rate, she had better retire, or return to traffic detail.
“I thought you were headed off to do some incident report,” she said.
“It’s done. Didn’t take long. What are you up to now?”
“Nothing.” She glanced back at the bank, almost tempted to go back in and confront Allen McLennon.
“Come with me,” Sam said, taking her arm gently. He led her across the street to Ruby’s Café. “Coffee.”
Jo went along, not putting up a fuss like she normally might have. Maybe she wanted to hear what the local sheriff had to say. Or was she in for another lecture?
Ruby’s was almost empty so late in the morning. In a short time the lunch crowd would start arriving, but for now, they practically had the place to themselves.
Sam steered her to a booth near a window and sat opposite her. A waitress hurried over, coffeepot in hand.
“Anything to eat, Sheriff?” the woman asked as she poured.
“Just coffee for me.” Sam looked at Jo. “What will you have?”
“The same.”
The waitress bustled off.
Jo added cream and stirred, then met Sam’s gaze defiantly. “Allen McLennon is the man who tried to rape me and then beat me silly when I was sixteen. I told Maddie. She didn’t believe me, so in retaliation when I was questioned at the hospital, I said she’d beaten me. I was so angry and hurt. I didn’t know what an uproar that would cause. Then that damned sheriff wouldn’t believe me when I told him the truth. Was that in the report?”
Sam looked taken aback. Maybe she should have led up to the revelation, but she felt anger boil up again after seeing that man at the bank living a life no rapist and child beater should live. Her worst fear resurfaced. Had she been the only one? The sheriff and Maddie had both been told the truth. If neither acted on it, was Jo responsible for any further violent acts the man may have committed over the years? The thought bothered her. She should have come back at eighteen and made a stink. Or after graduating from the police academy. Or any time over the last decade.
“Serious accusations,” Sam said.
“The truth, take it or leave it,” she replied. Jo held her breath. She wanted someone to believe her. But the world wouldn’t end if he didn’t. She’d had years of living with others not believing the truth.
Sam sat back and studied her thoughtfully. “And what do you propose to do about it now?”
She shrugged. No overwhelming vote of confidence from the sheriff. “What can