and jury, is that it?” Ilyse Adams asked coolly.
“I used my judgment and my common sense,” Colt affirmed.
The IA officer consulted her notes. “Well, that judgment is suspect. We’re going to be confidentially reviewing every case you’ve handled in the last six months. Should this prove to be a pattern with you, you’ll suffer the appropriate sanctions.”
Sheriff Ben Shepherd said nothing to counter the IA officer’s assertion.
The knowledge he could face disciplinary action hit Colt like a blow to the gut.
“And if it proves I’ve done nothing wrong?” he asked, taken aback that an outsider might hold the keys to his future. “Last night or at any other time?”
“Then no one but the three of us and the department attorney will ever know there was an investigation,” the sheriff promised. “In the meantime...” Sheriff Shepherd retrieved a thick envelope from his desk and handed it to Colt. “You have a chance to prove you can do your job, no matter whom or what is involved.”
Colt looked at the name and address on the papers due to be served. He swore inwardly.
“Got a problem?” Sheriff Shepherd queried.
They wanted to see him do his job no matter what? Then that’s exactly what he’d do.
“No, sir,” Colt said crisply. “I do not.”
* * *
SHELLEY OPENED THE DOOR to find a uniformed Colt McCabe on the other side of it. A faint hint of beard shadowed his face, a hint of weariness in his midnight-blue eyes, but otherwise, he was as handsome as ever. Which was a true testament to his stamina after what had to be—if her calculations were correct—nearly fourteen hours on the job.
“Thanks for getting my car back to me last night.” It had been in the hospital parking lot when she’d come out with her son.
“The tow service delivered it. I figured you’d need it when Austin was released.”
“I did.” She moved to usher him inside. “Here to take the accident report?”
“That’s right.” He gestured toward the wicker furniture that stood opposite the porch swing and said, “Okay if we do it out here?”
As grateful as she was feeling, maybe it was best he didn’t come in. Shelley nodded and brought Austin with her. He sat down to play with his toys.
Colt got out his laptop computer. His eyes were calmly intense, his lips grim. “If you could start from the beginning...”
Slipping into business mode, too, Shelley told him everything she remembered. When they finished, he stood, put his laptop back in the carrying case and then pulled out a thick envelope and a clipboard. “If you could just sign here indicating you’ve received this,” he said.
Puzzled by the extraofficial sound of his voice and the coolness of his manner, Shelley did as requested.
Colt took the clipboard back and looked her right in the eye. “Shelley Meyerson, you’ve just been served.”
Chapter Three
Shelley stared at Colt in confusion. “Is this a joke?”
“No, ma’am, it’s not.” Colt took another paper with the words Notice of Eviction across the top and pasted it to the front door.
Shelley ripped it right back off and stared down at the order demanding she vacate the property ten days from now. “And stop calling me ma’am!” she said, fuming.
Austin toddled over to where Colt stood. He hooked both his arms around Colt’s legs and tilted his head back. “Up!” Austin commanded, giving Colt a toothy grin.
For the first time since the police business started, Colt’s demeanor became more guy next door than lawman. He smiled down at Austin, then looked at Shelley.
“Up!” Austin repeated, even more insistently.
“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could hold him for a moment,” Shelley murmured, trying to retain her composure.
His manner as gentle as always, Colt complied.
Anxious to read the papers, she sat down on the wicker chair and fumbled with the clasp on the envelope. Heart pounding, she scanned the legal documents. “This can’t be right! How can I possibly be evicted or my home foreclosed on? There’s no mortgage. That was paid off with the money I inherited. I’ve been paying the taxes and the insurance from the trust. Not that there’s much left in that.” Just enough to serve as a nest egg, until she started getting paychecks for her dance classes at the community center.
Austin patted Colt’s shoulders and chest with the flat of his palms, testing the solid muscle beneath. Despite her distress, she couldn’t help but behold the sight of Colt standing there in his uniform, her toddler cradled in his arms.
“What this?” Austin tugged on the laminated plate above the badge.
Colt gently stayed the tiny fingers, explaining, “It’s my name pin. It says Deputy Colt McCabe.”
“Deppity,” Austin repeated. He grinned at Colt. “Deppity! Deppity!”
Returning to the business at hand, Shelley quickly went through the rest of the papers. “My house is being put up for auction in ten days? On the county courthouse steps? How can they do that when I never even heard of this collection agency?” She threw up her hands in frustration, stood and put the papers aside momentarily.
She met Colt’s implacable gaze. To her disappointment, she found not an ounce of sympathy or emotion, just cool professionalism.
Then again, given the fact he was here to do a job, maybe she shouldn’t expect any. “None of this makes any sense.” Sighing, Shelley held out her arms to Austin. He slid into them happily.
Colt straightened the brim of his Stetson. “Sounds like you need to see a lawyer.”
Shelley shook her head. There was no need for that. “I’m sure I can clear this up,” she stated confidently. Clearly, a pretty big mistake had been made. “All I have to do is make a few phone calls.”
Briefly, his expression betrayed skepticism. “Well...good luck with that.” Colt tipped his hat at her and headed off.
Shelley went back inside the house, into the kitchen she had just unpacked. She settled Austin in the high chair with a bowl of his favorite dry cereal and a sippy cup of milk, and reached for the phone.
Unfortunately, the bank that had made the claim against Shelley’s childhood home wouldn’t talk to her—the matter had already been turned over to collections. The collection company wouldn’t speak to her, either, as the matter had already been settled in court via the claim against her home, and the foreclosure proceedings. As far as they were concerned, it was too little too late.
But as far as Shelley was concerned, it was just the beginning.
She called her attorney friend, Liz Cartwright-Anderson. Liz had a few minutes between appointments and asked Shelley to come in with the paperwork immediately.
Shelley slid the papers into her carryall, scooped up Austin and headed out to her car. And just that quickly, the morning went from bad to worse. Her right front tire was flat as a pancake.
Shelley sighed and clapped her hand against her forehead.
Austin, who was still in her arms, looked over at her, cocked his head seriously and slapped his palm on his forehead, too.
Shelley laughed through her tears.
And that was when Colt McCabe happened to drive by again.
* * *
ALL COLT WANTED AS HE HEADED down Spring Street toward his home was a quick bite and a good