if he had to be honest, his trust in women had been shaken a lot earlier than that. A boy couldn’t grow up knowing he was an afterthought in his own mother’s life without having a few hang-ups.
A horn blast jarred him, and Jake spiked the brake as a white truck bearing Idaho plates shot across the road in front of him. Quickly, he looked across the intersection to check for a stop sign, then swore when he spotted it—flattened at the side of the road. Obviously, the out-of-state driver hadn’t seen it. Jake nearly gave chase, then decided against it. There was no point wasting time on an arrest that wouldn’t hold up. The best he could do now was see that the sign was fixed before someone got hurt.
The midmorning sun glinted off the sheriff department’s white Jeep as Jake pulled his tan Mountaineer in beside it. He got out and slammed the door. As he walked past the wide front window with its fancy gold seal, he waved at Maggie Dalton, who was just hanging up the phone.
“Hi, again,” he said, coming inside.
“Hi.” She finished scribbling a note, added it to a pile and sent him a friendly smile. “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“I’m fast. Anybody report a downed stop sign at the corner of Mountain and Prairie?”
“Yep. County maintenance is on it.”
“Good.”
The reception area was fairly large, with the dispatcher’s desk in the middle of the room, and flanked on both sides by a low-railing fence with a swinging gate. To the right stood a row of straight-back chairs and the door to the lockup; to the left, Jake’s private office. Above the waist-high wood paneling, the walls were pale municipal green and needed a fresh coat of paint.
Jake hung his hat on a peg by the door, then walked to the desk and nodded at the stack of messages that hadn’t been there an hour ago. “Some of those for me?”
“Nope, all of them. Nothing too pressing. Judge Quinn wants you to stop by his office at the courthouse sometime this week—but not Friday, he’s going fishing. And there’s a town council meeting on Friday that you’re required to attend. The list of topics to be discussed is in the computer. I’ll print it out for you.”
A teasing grin lit her eyes. “Oh. And the mayor wants you to join her for dinner before the meeting.”
“What’s the grin for?”
“Was I grinning? Gee, I didn’t mean to.” Still fighting a smile, she handed him his messages. “The rest are mostly well-wishes from businessmen. They’d like you to return their calls when you get time.”
Jake sifted through them, deciding that whatever had tickled her fancy was destined to remain a secret. “Anything else?”
“Your uniforms arrived. I put them in your office.”
“Thanks. I’ll change before I start my shift.”
His deputy was a pretty woman in her late twenties with a long black braid and brown eyes, and from the little he’d seen, organized, focused and good at her job. A jittery feeling pooled in his belly. She was also Ross Dalton’s brand-new wife. He’d been stunned—and pleased—to receive an invitation to their wedding at the Brokenstraw Ranch when he’d toured the town a week ago. Life was full of surprises.
“So, did you get a room at Miss Lillian’s?” Maggie asked. “Or did your male pride balk at living in a pink house?”
“The color was fine.” In fact, he’d found it striking with all the curlicued white gingerbread and spindled railings on the wraparound porch. He even liked the lace curtains and tiny candle-lights in the front windows. “Unfortunately,” he said, frowning, “the owners are closing it.”
Maggie blinked in surprise. “After just having it painted? I spoke to Sarah yesterday, and she never mentioned it.”
No surprise there. The way she’d acted, he’d bet a month’s salary that she hadn’t planned to do any such thing until he’d shown up. He’d also bet she’d reopen the instant he found a permanent residence.
“Did Sarah say why she was closing?”
“No, she just told me to check the want ads. Maybe she and her husband don’t want strangers roaming the house with their daughter being so young.”
Maggie clicked on the computer to her right and scanned a file list. “Interesting theory, but Sarah’s not married.”
Jake froze for several seconds, then tucked his messages in his breast pocket. His blood clipped along a little faster.
“In fact,” Maggie added, “if she hadn’t divorced Vince Harper a few years ago, technically she’d be a widow.”
He was so startled, he couldn’t keep his shock from showing. “Sar—the woman I just spoke to was married to Vince Harper?”
Maggie punched a key on the keyboard, and the printer started spitting out data. “I take it you’ve heard the name?”
Headlines hyping Harper’s notorious diamond theft blazed through Jake’s mind, complete with a mug shot of a smirking man with a long blond ponytail. “Oh, yeah,” he said, scowling. “I’ve heard it. Somehow, I can’t imagine…”
“Sarah with him?”
Jake nodded. If he remembered correctly, Harper had been a bona fide loser for most of his adult life. No wonder Sarah had said the things she had the night they met. He pictured the three of them together—Harper, Sarah and that cute little girl—and held back another scowl. No way did that picture look right.
Maggie ripped a sheet from the printer. “Here’s the topic list for Friday’s meeting.”
“Thanks. Now, if you can just find me a place to hang my hat…”
“Sorry, the best I can do is bring in the paper when it comes.”
“Good enough.” He grinned, then crossed the floor to his office, sank into his swivel chair and stared into space.
Sarah had been married to Vince Harper? The smalltime hood who’d knocked over a Florida jeweler and gotten away with the gems? Unbelievable.
Jake had been working in Glacier County when it happened, but most lawmen in Montana knew the case well. The feds had put out an urgent APB, figuring that Harper would head for home. Agents had ended up apprehending the jerk while he was meeting his needs at a brothel a few miles outside of Comfort. After finding only a few diamonds on him, they’d searched the premises, without success. Then they’d learned that he’d spent time at his ex-wife’s home the previous night, and they’d searched Sarah’s house, too.
The remaining diamonds had never been recovered.
Jake eased back in his chair. Now that he remembered the time frame, the scandal had occurred right around when he’d found Sarah crying in that grassy overflow parking lot. But she hadn’t mentioned the diamonds or feds that night. She’d only told him that her divorce had just become final, and she was through with marriage. Or anything close to it.
He’d understood. Fate, or karma or whatever
