gossip pimped him as womanizer, not a drug dealer. Her slip in judgment cost her a night behind bars, her scholarship, and her place on the surf team. Not one of her teammates clued her in to Vic’s dealing, yet they all had stories to share when her lawyer probed. Friends like those she didn’t need.
“Well, this should do it.” He handed her a clipboard full of papers. “Sign on the highlighted lines and you’ll be on the road to being a regular citizen again.”
The probation had been a formality to keep track of her. With Vic behind bars, her felony would be expunged. She exited the office a free woman and hopped in Bobby’s cruiser. “Thanks for pulling your professional strings.”
He pulled onto the beach road, bound for Ocean Rescue. “Damn, Jo, the captain knows you. You worked as a lifeguard for him every summer until you left for college. All the fire and police brass figured you were set-up.”
“I know, but I don’t want Dad’s name or yours being dragged through the mud because of my stupidity.”
“It’ll be okay, sis.” He pulled into the parking lot and kissed her cheek. “I’ll hit the DMV later today and transfer the Broncosaurus into your name.”
She smiled at the nickname he’d given the truck as a kid. Now, the vehicle held so many memories of their dad, they couldn’t bear to part with it.
“How about a vanity plate?” A smart-ass cop grin followed. “CA SURFR.”
She glowered over her shades and slammed the car door.
“Happy four wheeling, and watch for the tourons. They don’t respect Big Blue or the tow.” He winked.
She waved, laughing at his lingo for moronic tourists and the ocean’s undertow.
Teamed with a college student, she settled into her lifeguard role with ease. The smell of sunscreen and sea salt hovered on an offshore breeze. While the ocean lapped the shore in a waveless repose, they reunited lost children with their parents and treated jellyfish stings.
Before long, her second cousin arrived in a yellow rescue department pick-up doing his supervisor rounds. Crows’ feet lined Mike’s face, his lean form tanned from endless days in the sun. “Welcome back, cuz.”
She hopped from her lifeguard chair, half expecting a smart remark. “Thanks.”
“Heard the west coast circuit didn’t take kindly to your southern charms.” He gave her a hug.
“Difference of opinion.”
“Well, we got a history of hostile Indians and surly pirates on this sandbar. Nothing wrong with one of our surfers putting us on the map, too.” He offered a high-five.
She slapped his palm.
So much for hiding out and laying low, the biggest gossip in Dare County knew she was back.
* * * *
Jo grabbed her phone from her backpack, set it on the truck console and drove from Ocean Rescue. She needed to quit being a chicken shit and call Ray.
She couldn’t keep him out of her head and it pissed her off. He’d been her fantasy in high school. She loved his easygoing nature and they always had fun when hanging out. Even after being away for nearly five years, she still wanted him as much as the day she’d left.
The next stoplight along the beach road flashed red. She smacked her forehead against the steering wheel, steeled her resolve and grabbed her phone. After punching his speed dial, she waited. Several rings later, the call went to voicemail.
“Hey, sorry, it was late when I got your message.” She followed a small car through the intersection as the light turned green. “Hmmm, I’m off tomorrow, if you want to catch some waves and—”
A teen on a bicycle rolled right in front of the car ahead of her.
“Shit!” She slammed her brakes. Her phone flew into the dash.
A white T-shirt billowed around a boy careening over the hood of the blue Honda. His bike bounced on the road before her all-terrain Goodyears trampled it with grinding scrape.
Her legs liquefied to warm Jell-O as she fumbled for her phone. With numb fingers, she dialed nine-one-one. Hard rain drummed against the roof of the truck as a fire hydrant geysered an endless supply of water.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” a flat-toned dispatcher asked.
“Bicyclist and motor vehicle collision at…at…” She searched for a street sign. “Uh…Route 12. The beach road. North of the light that cuts through to the outlet mall.” Acrid smoke from the rubber she’d left on the asphalt gagged her.
“Anybody hurt?”
“The poor kid on the bike, probably. I’m walking there now.” She knelt next to the writhing boy. “Yeah, he’s semi-conscious and his leg looks broken.”
“Yes ma’am. Remain calm.”
“Listen, he’s moaning and going to drown if someone doesn’t shut the water off.” She dare not move him in case he had neck or back injuries.
“Water?”
“A car took out a fire hydrant.”
“You?”
The offending party sat in her car, shrieking like a banshee.
“No. He bounced off another vehicle’s windshield. My truck only ate the bicycle. We need an ambulance ASAP!”
“One’s been dispatched. Can you stay with him?”
“Of course.” With trembling fingers, she brushed hair off his forehead, pushing aside the memories of her father’s accident. “Help is on the way.”
“Do you think he has an ID or a cell phone?” A man approached with an umbrella. “He’s just in trunks―oh, wait!” He handed her the umbrella then returned with a sodden backpack. Grinning, he withdrew a sealed zippy bag.
“See if he has an ICE list,” Jo yelled over the wailing sirens.
Her umbrella friend found an emergency contact list and handed over the phone when the police arrived. An EMT jogged up and a firefighter relieved her from umbrella duty.
As she stepped from beneath the cascading waterfall, a pair of beefy hands dropped a firefighter’s turnout coat over her shoulders.
Strong and warm, the hands lingered. “So that was the, Oh shit,” Ray said huskily against her ear.
She nodded.
“You okay?”
“Think so.” She stood solid but wanted to yield to his strength. Her father had perished not too far from here in an auto accident. The memory chilled her to the bone. Luckily, the boy on the bicycle would recover. While Ray returned to his crew, his smoky bunker coat comforted her.
Utilities arrived to shut off the
