suspect that belongs to our court-ordered volunteer.”
Charles came to a stop with the door still half-open. “Court ordered? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Some folks need a little help recognizing the merits of helping others.”
“You’re killing me with suspense.” Actually, the suspense wasn’t killing him, but the need to get home, pack a bag and get the hell out of Dodge was.
This was Rhonda’s expertise, and after working beside her, Charles had the utmost of confidence in her decisions. If she said they should take on a court-ordered volunteer program, then Charles accepted her word.
“No felons or pedophiles, I promise,” she assured him.
“Never even crossed my mind.” He pulled the door shut until the lock clicked tight. Another thing about Rhonda—she was crazy invested in helping women. So much so that he’d wondered more than once whom she knew or what might have happened in her life to make her such a passionate advocate.
“Hey, Deputy Doug,” she greeted the sheriff as they passed the room that had been transformed into the on-site Sheriff’s Department substation.
The deputy, spit-polished in a uniform that lent an air of authority and safety to New Hope, glanced up from the desk where he monitored video surveillance of the property with the phone cradled against his ear. He waved.
Charles inclined his head as he passed. “Our resident deputy is okay with you inviting criminals onto the property?”
“Not criminals.” Rhonda huffed over her shoulder and headed down the hallway toward the administrative offices. “They’re women the court feels have something to offer and deserve a chance to get back on more productive paths.”
“That’s very…politically correct.”
“I couldn’t say no, Charles. It’s a worthy cause and we need the help. Our volunteer base is a third of what it needs to be, and with the screenings, orientations and training, that won’t change for some time.”
Charles was personally acquainted with the duties around here and wondered what these formerly upstanding women might have to offer. He didn’t bother asking since they had arrived in the office and the administrative volunteer sitting at the desk said, “Your appointment is here, Dr. Camden.”
“Thanks.” She motioned Charles into their shared office. “Close the door.”
He did as she asked, surprised when she dropped her things on the desk and went straight for the observation panel on the wall. Sliding the shutter open, she peered through the viewing glass into the reception area.
“Nicely dressed felon,” Rhonda said drily.
The observation panel had been established as a security measure in a place filled with them. They’d modeled New Hope after other domestic violence programs around the country. The unfortunate truth was that domestic violence could erupt anywhere and often followed its victims.
Precisely why New Hope’s security measures were top-notch. Not only was there a fully-staffed sheriff substation, but the facility was hardwired to the Bluestone Mountain Police. A silent alarm would dispatch officer backup and SWAT resources within minutes. From state-of-the-art internet security to detailed precautionary procedures that involved other domestic violence agencies around the state, New Hope, for its remote location in Bluestone Mountain, was a cutting-edge facility.
Rhonda motioned him over. Charles honestly could not have cared less, but the path of the least resistance was the fastest way to get out the door and up to the river. Crossing the room, he peered through the glass at the woman standing in the reception area, idly thumbing through a magazine.
A tall, slim woman with sleek blond hair and delicate features that would be right at home on the cover of the magazine she held. Nicely dressed was an understatement. This woman’s wardrobe could feed a developing nation.
“Jesus.” He staggered back, nearly tripping over Rhonda.
She jumped out of his way, steadying herself on the desk. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment he could only stare. The words were in his head but wouldn’t come out. He blinked. He took a deep breath. He tried again. “You invited my ex-wife to volunteer here?”
“Excuse me. What are you talking about?” Rhonda was clearly confused.
Charles wasn’t talking about anything because he was still too busy trying to reason through why one all too familiar and very unwelcome blonde was standing inside this facility.
Court-ordered community service?
Rhonda stepped around the desk and thumbed through the folders that had slid half out of her jam-packed briefcase. “Here it is. Her name is Reece.”
Sure enough, the folder tab had Reece printed in bold black letters.
“Karan Kowalski Steinberg-Reece.”
Rhonda’s frown melted and she glanced at the folder again. “Guess that will teach me to read what’s inside. Gosh, I’m really sorry, Charles. The program sounded like such a great deal when Chief Sloan mentioned it.”
“Chief Sloan?”
She nodded.
A freaking setup if ever there was one. “He obviously suggested it because he didn’t want to deal with her himself.”
Rhonda sank onto the edge of the desk with the closed folder neatly in her lap. She looked at him with an inviting, psychoanalyzing expression on her face. “Chief Sloan knows your ex-wife, too?”
It took Charles another speechless moment to reason that through. Rhonda wasn’t from Bluestone Mountain. Like himself, she’d come to the area to attend Van Cortlandt College, an elite private university in the valley. She’d wound up settling here after completing grad school. Unlike him, or Chief Sloan for that matter, she’d managed to avoid running into Karan.
“They have a history,” he said.
“I see. And you think Chief Sloan sent her our way because he’d rather we dealt with her?”
“Jack sits on the board of directors. He was involved with this project long before I was, and he didn’t ask me to let her volunteer here because he knew I’d say no damn way.”
Rhonda conceded the point with a nod then flipped open the folder and scanned the documents inside. “Okay, I’m reading. Not seeing what the big deal is about her. I also don’t see… What does she do for a living?”
“Professional social climber.”
Rhonda frowned. “Come on, Charles, you married her. How bad can she possibly be?”
He had no words. Just a knot in his stomach.
Rhonda tossed the folder onto the desk and returned to the security panel. “Hmm. I’d say she’s getting impatient because I’m running late. But she is very beautiful. I guess you must have been blinded by her beauty.”
He
