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Still Waters
Shirlee McCoy
A Town in Jeopardy.A window smashed. A local teenager assaulted. The community of Lakeview is panicked when a gang of teens wreaks havoc in this sleepy Virginia hamlet. But Sheriff Jake Reed seems just the man to stop the vandalism.A Woman in Danger.Tiffany Anderson thought the "crime wave" was nothing but a bunch of summer boys with too much money and time on their hands. But when she becomes the gang's target, Tiffany must cling to her faith that God will send her a protector….A Man of Secrets.Keeping an eye on Tiffany, Jake finds himself drawn to the feisty redhead who reaches out to the needy. But haunted by his troubled past, he's leery of spending time with a woman who evokes feelings he'd thought long buried. Then Tiffany vanishes, and Jake can only pray he'll find her in time. Because suddenly he understands that God didn't mean for him to be alone, but to share his life with the woman who shares his faith.


Still Waters

Still Waters
Shirlee McCoy


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Ed and Shirley Porter,
who taught me to believe in myself and to trust in God. You get to be first this time, Dad!
To Rodney,
who believed even when I didn’t. Ten years! Want to try for another fifty?
To Willetta Ruth Pothier,
who shared her middle name and her love of books with me. I love you, Nana.
And to Darlene Gabler.
Friend, confidante, endless source of story ideas. This one’s for you, Gal!

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue

Chapter One
“Tiff, come on. Just a mile more.” Brian McMath’s voice echoed through the early-morning fog a moment before he appeared. Brown eyes keen, he watched as Tiffany approached, then resumed his own quick jog as she drew up beside him.
“You’re doing great.” Brian’s words were followed by a glance in Tiffany’s direction. She had little doubt he had taken note of her slick skin and damp clothes. He hadn’t broken a sweat.
“I really…don’t think…I can make it.”
“Of course you can. It’s only a mile. We’ve already done three.”
“That’s…one more…than I’ve been…doing. I’ve got…to stop.” With a groan of relief, Tiffany did just that. Muscles quivering, she leaned forward, rested her hands on wobbling knees and struggled to catch her breath.
Brian stopped beside her and despite Tiffany’s desperate need for oxygen she didn’t miss the quick glance he cast at his watch. Nor could she mistake the pinched look around his mouth for anything other than the impatience it was. She forced herself upright. “Look Brian, I know you’re anxious to finish the run. Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll meet you at the diner.”
“No, we agreed we’d do the jog together this morning. Just take a few deep breaths. I can wait another minute.”
If Tiffany hadn’t been so out of breath she might have laughed. As it was, she shook her head and tried to speak without panting every word. “It’s going to take more than a minute for me to recover. Go on ahead.”
Brian hesitated a moment and Tiffany knew he was torn between the desire to stay with her and the need to maintain his Saturday morning routine. In the end, routine won over affection and he nodded. “All right. If I get moving I’ll still have time for breakfast before prayer meeting.”
Tiffany smiled to hide her disappointment. Though she hadn’t expected him to, a small part of her had hoped Brian would walk to the diner with her. “I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes behind you.”
Brian nodded absently and leaned forward to plant a kiss in the region of Tiffany’s ear. “See you then.” With a jaunty wave, he was gone, swallowed up by the fog.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Tiffany muttered the words aloud as she stretched the kinks from her strained calf muscles. Two ravens responded, cawing loudly from their perch on an unlidded garbage can a few feet away. With a sigh of frustration, Tiffany wiped sweat from her forehead and wondered how she had gone from spending Saturday morning with her boyfriend to talking to a couple of mangy-looking birds. As if sensing her thoughts one raven flew from the garbage can, his heavy body swooping close to the ground before he disappeared from sight. The other bird remained, its bright eyes following Tiffany’s movements.
“I guess I’m not the only one being abandoned this morning.”
The bird ruffled its feathers and cawed again before flying off to find its partner. Tiffany figured she’d better do the same and set off at a brisk walk.
The sun had already begun to burn away the fog and Tiffany reveled in its bright warmth and in the summer colors it revealed. She breathed deeply of rose-scented air, her pace unconsciously slowing as she caught sight of the lake. Eschewing the sidewalk, Tiffany made her way across an expanse of grass to Lakeview’s public beach.
Smith Mountain Lake stretched out like blue-and-green dappled glass, the last vestiges of fog drifting across its smooth surface. Fishing boats speckled the water with color as die-hard fishermen cast lines and lazily reeled them in. In a few hours summer residents and vacationers would crowd the water and beach, bringing noise and activity with them, but for now the lake’s tranquillity called to Tiffany.
Making her way across reddish soil and sand, Tiffany climbed onto the dock and walked to the end. The sun had yet to warm the wooden planks and she shivered as she lowered herself onto the smooth wood. With her feet dangling over the water, Tiffany stared out across the lake. For as long as she could remember, her soul had been stirred by its beauty, her mind awed by the power and artistry of the Creator who had made it. Often, in the earliest hours of the morning, she would come to pray and to listen. More often than not, she left feeling renewed and at peace.
Today, however, would not be one of those days.
The ebb and flow of the lake seemed to mirror Tiffany’s life—steady, placid, even keel. She supposed she should feel thankful that she could make the comparison, but somehow the knowledge stoked rather than soothed her irritation.
The past year had brought a boom in her computer maintenance business, a solid relationship with Brian and the loss of most of the thirty pounds she’d put on since college. It seemed to Tiffany that there wasn’t a whole lot more she could want out of life, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing out on something important, something vital to her happiness.
With a disgruntled sigh, Tiffany rose to her feet. Discontent had been her unwelcome companion for more months than she cared to admit. She refused to dwell on it; refused to admit that the cause could be anything other than frustration with her failure to lose the last stubborn pounds of her postcollege weight.
Besides, Brian was waiting and if Tiffany didn’t hurry, he’d be late to his prayer meeting. As Lakeview’s newest physician, he had a reputation to uphold. Or so he’d told Tiffany on more than one occasion.
A motor purred to life in the distance. The deep throb of heavy metal music followed close behind, a hostile intrusion on the tranquillity of the morning. Surprised, Tiffany scanned the water and spotted a red speedboat as it rounded a curve in the lake. Several people stood in the helm of the boat, something large and black wiggling between them. She squinted, trying to make out the details, and decided they had either a large dog or a small horse on board. Whatever it was, it didn’t want to be there.
Apparently the people in the boat didn’t want it there, either. As they approached the center of the lake they heaved the struggling animal up and over the side. A terrified howl rent the air and was abruptly cut off as the dog hit the water. Shocked, Tiffany watched as the boat U-turned, disappearing the way it had come.
In the wake of the retreating vehicle the dog sank beneath the water, then surfaced again. Though it was quite a ways out, Tiffany figured the animal could make it to shore. At least she hoped it could. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to abandon it. She stood on the dock, watching the dog’s progress and silently cheering it on.
It only took a minute to realize the dog couldn’t swim. His head bobbed for a moment, slid beneath the surface of the lake, then popped back into view. Tiffany watched as his paws paddled frantically against the water, the black head sinking again and again. Unwilling to let him drown, she kicked off her shoes and dove into the water.

Sheriff Jake Reed bit back a curse and slammed on the brakes, bringing his truck to a screeching halt yards from where the woman had disappeared into the water. Adrenaline lent speed to his movements as he threw open the truck door and raced across the grassy slope to the dock. He’d seen rescue attempts like this one before; seen good-hearted people trying to save a life only to find themselves in trouble.
Or worse.
Jake had no intention of letting that happen this time. Not if he could help it. He ran across the dock, shouting a warning to the woman as he went. She didn’t pause, just continued her swift, steady progress toward danger. Jake marked her location, and dove into morning-cool water. The rhythm of the swim came slowly, Jake’s muscles protesting the cold. He ignored the discomfort and forced himself to greater speed, the urgency that propelled him forward warning him that time was running out.
Tiffany circled behind the thrashing animal, grasped him under the forelegs and attempted to tug him toward shore. He strained against her hold, the force of his movements pushing Tiffany beneath the surface. Coughing, gasping for breath she struggled back up for air only to be pushed down again. Darkness swirled behind her eyes and she fought against it, pushing against the dog, against the water, and against the strange lethargy that made her want to sink deeper into the lake’s cool embrace.
Then something snagged the back of her shirt, pulling her up and over. She gasped and choked, coughing up water and sucking in air as an arm snaked around her waist and tugged her upright.
“Don’t struggle. I’ve got you.”
The deep voice penetrated Tiffany’s panic, pulling her from the edge of darkness. She let herself go lax; let herself lean against the hard chest of the man who held her. Tiny shivers coursed along her spine as she struggled to calm her frantic breathing.
“Are you okay?” The words rumbled against Tiffany’s hair and she nodded, forcing herself to respond though she barely had the energy to move.
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Let’s get back to shore.”
“What about the dog?”
The man stilled, his arm tightening a fraction around Tiffany’s waist. She thought for sure he’d lecture her, tell her how foolish she was. Instead he sighed. “Do you think you can tread water for a minute?”
“Yes.” Tiffany hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
“Good. I think we can use my belt to tow the dog in, but if he tries to use you as a raft again we let him loose and he fends for himself.”
“All right.”
The arm around Tiffany’s waist slid away and she slipped deeper into the water, barely keeping herself from going under. A few yards away, the dog splashed and wailed, his heavy body sinking again and again. Tiffany shuddered as she watched, picturing her own struggle just moments before.
Water lapped at her back, but Tiffany didn’t have the energy to turn and face her rescuer. Instead she waited, her movements clumsy and disjointed as she tried to stay afloat. When a hard arm wrapped around her waist, she sighed with relief, leaning into the support that was offered.
“Okay. We’re set. Hold this.”
A belt slithered over Tiffany’s shoulder and she grabbed it, eyeing the thin leather skeptically. “Do you plan to lasso him?”
“No. I’m hoping to use it as a tow line. If we can get the mutt to bite down on it, we might be able to haul him in.”
“Okay.”
“Call the dog. See if you can get him closer. Then toss the belt out.”
Tiffany did as she was asked, whistling and calling the panicked animal. Somehow he seemed to sense her intent and moved toward them, velvety brown gaze fixed on Tiffany. With a whispered prayer she tossed out the belt, reeled it back in and tossed it out again. The third time the dog surged forward, biting down on the belt and tugging with enough force to pull Tiffany against the arm that held her. She swallowed down a fit of coughing and held on tight. “Got him.”
“Good. You hold the belt. I’ll do everything else.”
Tiffany didn’t argue. She didn’t have the energy to. Instead she allowed herself to be tugged toward shore.
Moments later cool lake water was replaced by warm air, and Tiffany was unceremoniously dumped onto prickly grass and sand. Coughing, still trying to ease her frantic breathing, she rose onto wobbly knees. A few feet away the dog stumbled onto shore, shook water from thick, black fur and collapsed onto the ground.
“Looks like the dog will be fine. How about you?”
Tiffany pushed tangled hair from her eyes and turned to face her rescuer. He knelt beside her, dark hair glistening with moisture. Even on his knees he looked tall. Broad-shouldered and strongly built, the man had a presence about him that Tiffany felt sure made people take notice when he entered a room.
He seemed familiar, though Tiffany wasn’t sure where she’d seen him before.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
A blush heated Tiffany’s cheeks as she realized she’d been staring. Flustered she turned away, focusing her gaze on the dog. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“You’re lucky.”
“I know. Thanks for coming to the rescue.”
“No problem. Did you get a look at any of the kids in the boat?”
“No. They were too far away. I think there were four or five of them, though.”
“That’s the impression I got as well.”
“I don’t understand why they’d throw the dog into the lake. It’s cruel.”
“People are cruel sometimes.”
Tiffany couldn’t argue the point. Instead she shrugged, gesturing to the dog. “Well, at least he’s okay.”
No thanks to her own foolish efforts. Tiffany’s face heated again as she thought of the reckless impulse that had sent her diving into the lake. If not for the man kneeling beside her she might not be alive to regret her foolishness. Tiffany shuddered and turned to meet his assessing gaze.
Jake eyed the sodden, pale-faced woman beside him and bit back the recriminations that hovered on the tip of his tongue. No doubt she was doing a fair job of berating herself. He didn’t need to add wood to the fire. Instead he stood and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll call animal control and have them bring the dog to the SPCA.”
“Animal control? Forget them, I’ll take care of the dog. What we need is the police. Why aren’t they ever around when they’re needed?”
“Actually, ma’am, I’m the police.” Jake offered the woman a hand, clasping her slender fingers and pulling her up as he introduced himself. “Jake Reed. County Sheriff.”
Heat stained her cheeks, bringing color back to her too pale face. “I’m so sorry, Sheriff Reed. I thought you looked familiar, but without a uniform—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“Not at all. This has been an unsettling experience. I don’t blame you for being upset.”
“Being upset isn’t a good excuse for being rude. I am sorry.” She tried to smile the apology, but it fell flat, the curve of her lips not reaching her eyes.
Eyes, Jake noticed, that were amazing. Deep green, shimmering with flecks of gold, and fringed by thick, dark lashes, they were striking against the woman’s alabaster skin. For a moment he felt caught in her gaze, compelled to keep looking. Then she spoke and the spell was broken. “I hope you find the people responsible. They need to be held accountable for their actions.”
“I agree, Ms….?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Tiffany. Tiffany Anderson.”
Tiffany. Jake had known one other Tiffany in his life. She had been petite and blond. A cheerleader, if he remembered correctly. The woman before him was more substantial. Long-limbed and well curved. Womanly in a way that some might consider out of style. Personally, Jake preferred it to the boyish look of today’s fashion models. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t in the market for any kind of woman.
Relationships were for people with the time and patience to indulge in them. Jake had neither. He’d learned that the hard way and had no intention of repeating the mistake. He’d get the dog and Tiffany Anderson home safely and get back to the first day of his vacation. The sooner he did both, the better. “Do you need help to your car?”
“No. Thanks. I walked.”
“How about a ride home?”
At his words, Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Home? Oh, no! Brian’s waiting for me at the diner.”
“Brian?”
“My boyfriend. I was supposed to meet him for breakfast.”
“Becky’s Diner, right?” It was the only diner in town, one Jake had become familiar with in the year since he’d moved to Lakeview.
“Yes. Poor Brian. He must be worried sick.”
Jake didn’t comment. Another lesson he’d learned young—people who should care, often didn’t. He didn’t say as much to Tiffany, just nodded and pointed to his truck. “I can give you a lift. The dog can ride in the back if you can get him to move.”
Worry eased from Tiffany’s face and her mouth curved into a half smile. “Thanks. That would be great.”
She wiped a hand across her forehead, brushing away moisture that dripped from her hair. Jake’s gaze followed the movement, his eyes tracing the arch of Tiffany’s brow, the curve of her cheek, and the stubborn point of her chin. She had an interesting face, one made almost beautiful by velvety skin and a dash of freckles across her nose.
Maybe she’d seen him before, but Jake was sure he hadn’t seen her. If he had, he wouldn’t have forgotten.
“Do you think he’ll come if I call him?” Tiffany’s voice pulled Jake from his thoughts and he forced his gaze away from the alluring woman beside him.
“He looks pretty comfortable, but it can’t hurt to try.”
Tiffany let out an ear piercing whistle. “Come here, dog. Here doggie, doggie.”
The dog lifted his head, but didn’t stand. Jake figured the mutt was more interested in resting than moving. “Tell you what. You get in the truck. I’ll take care of the dog.”
“Maybe if I knew his name I—”
“Trust me. The dog isn’t going to budge, no matter what you call him. Come on. Your boyfriend’s waiting.”
And so was Jake’s vacation, but he decided not to mention that as he ushered Tiffany to the pickup truck.
Tiffany sat in the cab of the old Chevy and wondered how her day had gone so bad, so fast. All she’d wanted was an hour with Brian. A quick morning jog so they could touch base and discuss a few things that were on her mind. Instead she’d gotten a near death experience and a chance to ride in the sheriff’s pickup.
Tiffany grimaced, imagining Brian’s face when she walked into the diner, soaking wet and escorted by an officer of the law. At least the man wasn’t wearing a uniform. Not that it would matter. People in Lakeview knew one another. And they liked to talk. A lot.
With a sigh, Tiffany glanced out the window. The dog and the sheriff were having a standoff. One determined to move toward the truck, the other just as determined to stay put. Finally Jake leaned down and grasped the dog under its belly, lifting him from the ground with an ease that surprised Tiffany. She watched as he walked toward the truck, his stride long but unhurried, as if the hundred-pound dog were no weight at all. She supposed that had something to do with the bulging muscles of his biceps and the wide, toned breadth of his shoulders. As if sensing her gaze, Jake glanced in Tiffany’s direction, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. Tiffany’s heart did a little flip of awareness before she had the presence of mind to turn away.
Physical strength, stunning good looks—those things might appeal to some people, but not to Tiffany. Brian’s lanky runner’s frame and boy-next-door looks were pleasant but it was his dedication, faith and intelligence that had drawn Tiffany to him.
If the sparks didn’t fly when her eyes met Brian’s—well, that was to be expected. They weren’t living a romance novel and they weren’t teenagers experiencing the bliss of their first love. Brian was everything Tiffany had asked God for—more—and she was thankful. Really.
“All set.” Jake appeared at the driver’s side door and slid into the truck cab, his shoulder brushing Tiffany’s as he buckled his seat belt and started the engine.
It didn’t take long to drive to Becky’s Diner and neither Tiffany nor Jake felt compelled to speak during the short ride. Tiffany wasn’t sure of the reason for the sheriff’s silence. Hers was due to fatigue and worry. She eyed the parking lot as Jake circled it for the second time. Cars were crammed close together, bright sunlight reflecting off their hoods. Even the overflow area was packed tight with vehicles, a result, Tiffany knew, of summer’s arrival.
During the hot months of June, July and August, seasonal residents and tourists flocked to Smith Mountain Lake for recreation. The small, tight-knit community Tiffany had grown up in swelled to twice its size, and the diner’s normally adequate parking lot filled to overflowing. Most times, Tiffany didn’t mind the inconvenience. Today she was in a hurry, and prayed a parking spot would open soon.
As Jake circled the parking lot for the third time, Tiffany’s gaze wandered across the rows of cars. Where was Brian’s Saturn? He’d picked her up at home this morning and driven to the diner—the starting and finishing point of their four-mile run. Now his car was gone.
“I don’t see Brian’s car. I hope he didn’t go looking for me.”
“Want me to go in and ask for him?” Jake spoke as he maneuvered the Chevy into a vacated parking space.
“No. I’ll go in myself. Do you mind waiting with the dog? I’ll get him when I come back out.”
“No problem. But if you’re planning to go in the diner you might want to put this on.” He reached behind the seat and pulled out a blue jacket, thrusting it into Tiffany’s hand.
His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts, though his gaze drifted down to rest briefly on Tiffany’s wet shirt. She followed his gaze with her own, gasping in surprise as she realized the extent of the damage. Smudges of dirt and grass stained the front of the shirt and a jagged tear rent the hem. Worse, the material clung to her like a second skin. Hastily pushing her arms through the sleeves of the jacket, Tiffany zipped it to her chin and tried to ignore the fine trembling in her hands. Her lake ordeal had left her exhausted and she couldn’t wait to get home.
She pasted a smile on her face and turned toward the sheriff, ready to make light of the moment and be on her way. Instead she froze, flustered by the intense stare of the man beside her. He didn’t smile, didn’t offer any encouragement, just held her gaze, his face set in an expression that shouted stay back.
Tiffany imagined him using that expression on criminals. Imagined him forcing a confession by the sheer force of his gaze. She swallowed back nervous laughter and pushed open the truck door. “I guess I’d better get in there. Thanks for the jacket. And for saving me. And the dog, too. I mean…I’d better go find Brian.”
Without a backward glance, Tiffany hopped out of the truck and headed for the diner.

Chapter Two
Jake watched her go, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It surprised him a little, the pulling of muscles and crinkling of eyes, the spontaneous response to simple pleasure. The past year had been short on smiles. Those that had graced Jake’s face felt forced and unnatural.
Now he was close to grinning thanks to Tiffany Anderson and her rambling, embarrassed banter. Not to mention her shuffling run as she moved across the parking lot, the sleeves of his jacket falling down over her hands. He’d thought her hair to be brown, but now realized he’d been wrong. It was red—a bouncing, shouting array of gold and fire.
He wondered if she had a temper to match, then forced his mind away from the question. He didn’t want to know about Tiffany. Didn’t want to find out who she was, what made her tick, or why she would risk her life for a dog.
He’d done it once—searched for the answers to a woman’s heart. The result had been two years of bitter feuds and cutting silences. In the end, he and Sheila had divorced. He’d thrown himself into his work. She’d thrown herself into the bottle. Jake had blamed himself. Now he avoided relationships, preferring a life of solitude to a life of regret.
Jake ran a hand through his hair and eyed the closed door of the diner. Too much time had passed. Tiffany should have returned by now. The dog whined as if he, too, were growing impatient. Determined to get on with his day, Jake stepped out of the truck and checked on the dog, who lay panting loudly in the morning heat. No doubt he was thirsty.
Jake figured he could get the dog some water in the diner. Then he’d find Tiffany Anderson and politely ask her to remove the mutt from the back of his truck.
If he could find Tiffany. If she hadn’t scooted out the back of the diner and left the dog to him. Jake winced at his own cynicism. Ten years patrolling the most squalid areas of Washington, D.C., had taught him everything he needed to know about human nature. Not that he’d had much to learn. He’d cut his teeth on lies and faithlessness. Where Jake grew up, a promise made was a promise broken and the only person he could trust was himself.
Forcing his mind away from the past, Jake pushed open the door of the diner and walked into warmth and chaos. The sun shone through huge storefront windows, bathing the room with light. Jukebox music and eager conversation filled the dining area as waitresses shuffled order pads and balanced food-laden trays. The heady aroma of bacon and sausage wafted through the room and Jake’s stomach rumbled in response. Once he found Tiffany and got rid of the dog, Jake figured he might just start his vacation with a stack of pancakes and a side of home fried potatoes. Taking a seat at the counter, he gazed around the room searching for a head full of rioting curls.
“Looking for Tiffy?”
Jake turned to greet Doris Williams, the current owner of Becky’s Diner. “Tiffy?”
“Tiffany Anderson. She said you brought her here from the lake. I thought maybe you were looking for her.”
“Yeah. She leave?”
“She’s in the bathroom. Crying, I’d say. Not that she’s the mopey kind, mind you. But a girl counts on her man being there for her when she’s down. When he’s not, it’s disappointing.”
Jake’s mind spun at the turn in the conversation but he nodded anyway. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“No supposin’ about it.” Short and thin, with wiry salt-and-pepper hair and skin the color of toasted pecans, Doris was known for her harsh tongue and soft heart. She would go to her grave denying it, swore she’d never committed a charitable act, but the residents of Lakeview knew the truth and loved Doris for it.
Jake had been hearing stories of her timely interventions since the day he’d moved to town. In the twelve months since then, he’d seen for himself the extent to which Doris would go to make a single mother feel comfortable taking leftovers from the diner’s kitchen, or to talk an out-of-work father into accepting free meals for his children. He’d also seen that when Doris needed a hand with something, the townspeople were quick to go to her aid. Jake wasn’t about to break with tradition.
Which he supposed was good, as it seemed Doris wanted something from him. Shifting in his chair, Jake met Doris’s watchful gaze and tried not to fidget beneath her scrutiny.
“Well?” Coal-black eyes flashed as short-nailed fingers beat a tattoo against the counter.
Jake cleared his throat. “Well, what?”
“What are you going to do about Tiffany? Dr. Brian has gone off to the men’s prayer meeting and left her here. Someone’s got to give her a ride home.”
The tone of Doris’s voice left little doubt that the someone was going to be Jake. Pushing aside his exasperation, Jake resigned himself to the task. “You said she was in the bathroom?”
“Yes. Drying her shirt, she said. But I know better. Knock on the door loud and get me if she doesn’t come out. I’ll fetch her for you.”
“Right.” With a last wistful look at a tray of pancakes being carried to the dining room, Jake headed for the rest rooms. His belly could wait. Duty called.

“Pull yourself together!” The whispered words did little to stanch the tears that dripped down Tiffany’s cheeks. She mopped at the offending moisture with a wad of toilet tissue, blinked hard and sniffed. It wasn’t far to her house and any other morning she would have enjoyed the walk. But Tiffany was tired. She was wet. The hair she’d so carefully braided that morning fell around her face in straggly curls.
And Brian had left her to fend for herself.
Not that she could blame him. After all, he was leading the prayer meeting and it wouldn’t do for him to be late. Still, it would have been nice if he’d come looking for her. Or barring that, waited until she’d shown up. Tiffany didn’t think it was too much to ask that Brian be as concerned about her well-being as he was about his meeting. Unfortunately, if she’d had to count on him to rescue her, Tiffany would still be floundering in the lake.
The thought brought fresh tears and Tiffany grabbed another handful of tissue, rubbing hard at red-rimmed eyes. The tissue broke apart and dotted her face with tiny bits of white. Irritated, she used the sleeve of Jake’s jacket to rub the residue away. Walking back through the dining room looking like the before ad for allergy relief medication would be embarrassing enough; she didn’t need toilet paper stuck to her face as well.
Sniffing hard, Tiffany forced back more tears and reached for her purse. The one blessing in the whole fiasco was that Brian had remembered to leave it with Doris. Rifling through its contents Tiffany pushed aside car keys, house keys, lip balm and a pack of gum before she realized she’d left her wallet at home. She didn’t have enough change in the bottom of her bag to get the diet soda she wanted. With the kind of day she’d been having, the knowledge didn’t surprise her. Nor did it surprise Tiffany when someone knocked on the bathroom door. Having a few extra minutes to compose herself would have made the day just a little too easy.
“Just a minute.” A last swipe with the tissue, a quick hand through hopelessly tangled hair and Tiffany was ready to face the world.
The corridor she stepped into seemed dark compared to the bright light in the bathroom and she didn’t see the person standing against the wall until he spoke. “Doris told me you needed a ride home.”
Praying the corridor was dark enough to hide her tear-ravaged face, Tiffany turned to face Jake Reed. “Not really. My house isn’t far. I can walk.”
“I don’t mind giving you a ride home. Besides, how else are you going to get the dog there? I think he’s too tired to walk.”
Tiffany’s heart clenched as she pictured the pitiful mountain of black fur and soulful dark eyes. She’d forgotten about the dog. “Is he doing okay?”
“He seems fine. Just tired. I came in to get him some water. It’s getting hot out there.”
“Yeah, and he has been through a lot. I doubt walking a mile in the heat would be good for him. Maybe I’ll take you up on that ride after all.” Tiffany seized upon the excuse Jake offered her.
“Good. Why don’t you go out the back door there?” Jake gestured to a door at the end of the hall. “I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes.”
Tiffany attempted to smile her gratefulness, but knew her expression fell short of the mark. “All right. Thank you.”
Jake watched her go and tried hard to convince himself he didn’t care that she’d been crying; tried even harder not to notice the proud tilt of her curl-covered head or the unconscious grace with which she moved.
Dr. Brian was an idiot.
A flash of light illuminated the hall as Tiffany disappeared into the morning sunshine. The back door had been a good idea. Even the dim light of the corridor hadn’t hidden the downcast turn of Tiffany’s eyes or the dejected slump of her shoulders. Jake figured she was as uncomfortable with her tears as he was. He was glad she didn’t have to show them to the world.
Not that she’d slunk away like a coward. She’d left with her head high and her chin lifted. Jake admired her grit. Turning away, he headed back to the dining room.
Doris was waiting.
“She still locked in the ladies’ room? Got myself a key around here somewhere. Just hold on a minute and I’ll get it.”
“No need for that, Miss Doris. Tiffany went out the back way. She’s waiting in the truck.”
Doris stared hard, as if trying to ascertain the truthfulness of Jake’s statement. Jake stared back, wishing he didn’t feel like a school kid sitting in the principal’s office. A moment passed with neither speaking. Then, apparently satisfied with what she saw, Doris nodded regally and stepped away. “Good. I figured I could count on you.”
She reached behind the counter and grabbed a brown bag and a cup carrier, thrusting them both toward Jake, “Wrapped this up while you were fetching Tiff. The drink with the straw is diet. That’s what Tiffany always orders. Now get outta here and get that girl home.”
Before Jake could utter a word of thanks, Doris rushed away, weaving between tables and around customers with an ease born of years waiting tables for a living. She was a force to be reckoned with, a strong woman who had worked hard for a small piece of the American dream.
Pulling a soggy wallet out of his pocket, Jake took out several bills and placed them next to the cash register. Doris would complain later, but for now she was too busy to notice the money he’d left. Replacing his wallet, Jake moved toward the door. He needed to get Tiffany Anderson and the mutt home. Then, since he was up and about already, he’d see what he could find out about the morning’s events.
There’d been a slew of misdemeanor offenses this summer—a bit of graffiti, stolen merchandise in a few main street shops, loud music in the early hours of the morning. Jake had a good idea the same teens causing the summer’s mischief were responsible for throwing the dog into the lake. He’d ask a few questions, file a report at the office, and then, finally, he could begin his vacation.

The meteorologists were saying it would be a record-breaking day. Tiffany believed it. Already heat shimmered up from the pavement in waves of silver and black. The damp clothes she wore warmed quickly, the moisture evaporating as she waited for Jake to emerge from the diner. Part of her wanted to leap from the cab of the truck and run for home before he returned. The other part didn’t have the energy to move.
She felt like a fool twice over. First for trying to save the dog and almost drowning herself in the process and second for expecting Brian to be waiting for her, only to find he had gone. Tiffany had been hard-pressed to face the sheriff in the shadowy hallway of the diner. Facing him in the bright sun would be even worse. She could feel her face reddening at the thought.
“Here. Doris sent this for you.” Jake’s voice startled Tiffany from her thoughts and she turned, reaching for a carryout cup being thrust through the open window.
“Thanks.” Tiffany took a sip from the straw, smiling as the cool freshness of the soda hit her tongue.
“She sent these, too.” A brown bag followed the cup through the window. “Go ahead and eat one. I’m going to give the dog some water before we take off.”
Tiffany tried to ignore the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon that wafted through the truck as he moved away. Instead she concentrated on Jake, watching as he walked back to the diner and returned a few moments later with a plastic bowl. He smiled at someone who called his name, waved at someone else. All in all, the picture of an affable law officer.
But Tiffany sensed something else, a tension that lay behind the smile, a hardness around his mouth and jaw that warned of things better left hidden. Jake Reed played the part well, but Tiffany doubted his heart was that of a small-town sheriff. She’d heard rumors. Heard that he was a city cop. A man used to violent crime and hardened criminals. She’d heard he was ethical, tough-minded and fair.
What she hadn’t heard was what had brought him to Lakeview.
“All right. We’re set. Where to?” Jake slid into the driver’s seat, casting a glance in Tiffany’s direction.
“I live on Monroe Street.”
Jake turned the key in the ignition and the Chevy sprang to life. “Mind if I have one of those?” He reached over and grabbed the bag out of Tiffany’s hand, opening it up and lifting out a pastry.
Tiffany’s mouth watered and she turned her eyes away from temptation.
“Want one?” Jake held the bag out toward her.
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” The loud rumble of Tiffany’s stomach belied her words. Jake lifted an eyebrow, his bland expression replaced for a moment by a flicker of something else. Amusement, no doubt.
“You sure?”
Tiffany nodded and turned away before she changed her mind.
“All right then. Let’s get you home. You cool enough?”
“Pardon?” Tiffany had been so intent on ignoring the heavenly aroma still wafting through the truck that she missed Jake’s question.
“Do you want me to turn on the air? It’s warming up out here.”
“No, thanks. I’m used to the heat.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“Did you grow up around here?” Tiffany seized on Jake’s words. Anything to get her mind off the bag of pastries sitting on the seat between her and the sheriff.
“No. I grew up in D.C. It’s hot and humid there in the summer. Here on the lake the air doesn’t seem quite so heavy.”
“I visited D.C. my senior year of high school. It’s a busy place. And you’re right, the air did seem heavier.”
“Probably pollution. Which way?”
Tiffany blinked trying to follow the turn in conversation.
“Left or right onto Monroe?”
“Oh, sorry. Left. I live near the old Sheffield place.”
“I know where that is. Shouldn’t take more than a minute to get there.”
It took three. Tiffany watched the dashboard clock and counted every one, wishing away the gnawing hunger in her stomach. A pulse beat of pain worked its way behind her eye and she rubbed her forehead wishing the ache away. While she was at it she wished away the morning’s disappointments, too.
Tiffany had prayed for years that God would bring her a life partner who shared her faith, understood her human frailties, saw her for who she was and loved her anyway. She’d believed, really believed, that God would bring that person into her life and that when He did, there would be no doubt in her mind that he was the one God intended her to spend her life with.
That wasn’t how it happened. Oh, she figured Brian was The One. He met all the requirements she’d listed in her diary—he loved God, was faithful to His call, was smart, cared about others. The only question was, how much did he care about her?
The fact that Brian had not waited or worried when she failed to return to the diner said a lot to Tiffany. And none of it good. Though too practical to list it, Tiffany had always hoped that Mr. Right would be the knight-in-shining-armor type. The kind of man quick to step in when she needed a hand. Instead, it seemed Brian had more important things to do with his time.
Forcing her mind to stop such rambling thoughts, Tiffany tried to focus on the positive. Brian might not always run to her aid but that was because he knew Tiffany to be a competent self-reliant woman. He trusted her to take care of herself and that was a good thing. Right?
Later, when he called, Tiffany would explain to Brian how disappointed she had been to find him gone. He’d apologize and explain how important the men’s prayer breakfast was to him. Tiffany had accepted months ago that Brian had high standards and rigid priorities. Though he loved her, Tiffany would never be first on Brian’s to-do list. And that was okay.
Fantasies were fine as long as a person was willing to put them aside and face reality. And, in Tiffany’s case, reality was a silent ride home with a stranger and a big black dog.
Stealing a glance at the grim-faced man beside her, Tiffany sighed. Reality was lonely.

Chapter Three
The forecast of record-breaking temperatures proved accurate and by late afternoon the thermometer had crept up to ninety-eight degrees. Tiffany wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and eyed the picket fence that bordered her property. All but five of the pickets gleamed white. The others, scraped down to bare wood, wouldn’t take long to finish. With any luck she’d have them painted before heat exhaustion set in.
“Good thing I saved this side of the yard for last. Just think how hot I’d be standing under the sun, huh, dog?”
The big dog lifted his head and thumped his tail in response before returning to the state of semisleep he’d been in since Jake had lifted him from the pickup truck several hours before.
Tiffany dipped her brush into the almost empty paint can she held and smoothed a coat of paint onto a bare wooden plank. The glide of paint against board, the warmth of the sun and the muted sounds of boats on water helped put the morning’s fiasco into perspective. Good from bad, strength from weakness, blessings from curses—God made all things work for the good.
Tiffany may have been pulled from a lake, abandoned at the diner, and driven home by a taciturn sheriff, but at least she wasn’t spending Saturday afternoon alone. Smiling, she glanced over at her companion. He’d made himself at home in the shade of a maple tree and hadn’t budged, except to steal half of Tiffany’s turkey sandwich.
Everything about the dog said “mutt.” He had the shape and size of a Saint Bernard, the black coat of a Lab—if one didn’t count the white paw and ear—and a shepherd’s muzzle. Not a handsome dog by any standard, but the winsome expression in his brown eyes made him an adorable one. And, he was company.
“Almost done here, big guy. Then maybe we’ll go inside and take your picture so I can make some posters. Someone must be missing you by now. We can take a run to the store and the diner later, put up the posters and by this time tomorrow, you’ll be home.”
The dog opened his eyes at the sound of Tiffany’s voice and woofed quietly in response before rising to his feet and lumbering over. Tiffany patted his head and dipped brush into paint once again.
“Miss Anderson?”
With a startled cry, Tiffany whirled toward the voice. Splatters and speckles of paint flew from her full brush, landing on the grass, the dog and the front of Jake Reed’s shirt.
The dog ran for cover. Jake stood his ground.
“Sheriff Reed! You startled me.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
Jake’s gaze met Tiffany’s and then dropped to his shirt where several fat, white globs of paint were beginning to run.
“I’m so sorry! Let me—”
“Not a problem. This is an old shirt anyway.”
Before Tiffany could make use of the paint rag she’d been carrying in her pocket, Jake stepped to the side and gestured at a man and teenage boy. “Sorry to intrude on your afternoon but Mr. Bishop asked me to bring him by.”
Hat in hand, thinning hair brushed to one side of his head, the man stepped forward. He looked familiar, blunt featured and hardened from years in the elements. Though they’d never been introduced, Tiffany recognized him as a farmer who lived several miles outside of town.
He spoke with a voice that sounded as dry and tough as the dirt he toiled over. “Miz Anderson, I’m James Bishop. My son Tom has something he needs to say to you.” Stepping to the side he gestured to the teenager and watched as his son moved forward, eyes downcast. The boy mumbled something that Tiffany couldn’t make out.
“You got cotton in your mouth, boy? Speak up. I ain’t got all day and neither does Miz Anderson. Now say your piece. And say it so we can understand.”
The young man’s face colored, and Tiffany’s heart went out to him. She tried to send a reassuring smile his way, but his downcast eyes prevented him from seeing it. When he spoke, his chin wobbled a bit, and Tiffany worried he’d break into tears and embarrass himself.
“I was one of the guys in the boat this morning. Sheriff Reed said you almost drowned saving the dog. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, well—”
“Tell her the rest.” James Bishop grunted out the words, then turned abruptly. Tiffany watched as Jake placed a hand on Bishop’s, a shoulder that seemed weighted with fatigue and heartache. Despite his harsh words, Bishop was hurting for his son.
“He’s my dog.”
“Excuse me?” She’d been so intent on the drama of James and Jake, Tiffany had forgotten Tom.
“The dog. He’s mine. I let those guys throw him in the water. I didn’t know he couldn’t swim. It was just a gag. You know, for fun.”
The words rushed out. Eyes that had been staring at the ground now looked into Tiffany’s. She’d expected hardness, rebellion, arrogance, but didn’t find them. Instead, Tiffany saw sadness and uncertainty; a longing for understanding and acceptance, without any expectation of receiving it.
She refused to add to the young man’s pain. “What’s the dog’s name?”
Surprise flickered in Tom’s eyes before he dropped his gaze to the ground. “His name is Bandit. He’s just a puppy. Not even a year old.”
“Bandit is a good name.”
“Yeah, it is. It may not be his for long, though.”
Tiffany heard the hitch in the boy’s voice, the hint of tears that refused to be shed. She wanted to offer comfort, but doubted Tom would accept it. “Why not?”
“We’re taking Bandit back to the animal shelter when we leave here. Dad says a person cruel to animals doesn’t deserve to own one.”
Tiffany winced at the harshness of the words. Though she agreed with James Bishop’s assessment, she couldn’t help wondering if the punishment was too severe. Tom didn’t seem to be a cruel boy. More a foolish one. And that, hopefully, would be remedied with time. “You don’t need to bring Bandit to the shelter. I can keep him here.”
The boy shrugged, an I-don’t-care gesture, and kicked at a clump of grass at his feet.
“Well now, Miz Anderson, that’s kind of you. Come on, Tom, let’s go,” James said as he walked to the edge of the lawn. Tom, too, turned to leave. Tiffany couldn’t let him go. Reaching out, she placed a hand on his arm. He paused, shifting his gaze back toward Tiffany.
“Tom, how old are you?”
The boy looked surprised by the question but answered anyway. “I’ll be seventeen in a couple of weeks.”
“Perfect. I’m doing some renovations on my house. Lots of painting, sanding, refinishing and stuff. It’s slow work. I could use an extra set of hands. Would you be interested?”
“You mean a job?” Hope flared briefly in Tom’s eyes before he doused it.
Tiffany held her grin in check. “Yes.”
“I don’t know much about that kind of stuff.”
“Neither do I, so we’ll make a good team. Besides I can’t pay a lot. Minimum wage, maybe a little more.”
“I’m not sure….”
“You don’t have to decide right now. Talk to your father. See what he says, then give me a call. I work at home so just look up my business number in the directory. I’m listed under Anderson’s Computer Technology.”
“Tom! Come on. I got things to do.”
The young man glanced at his father, but hesitated as if afraid that if he left, Tiffany would forget she had offered him the job.
Tiffany smiled reassuringly. “You better go. Talk to your father, okay?”
A slight nod was the only response she got before Tom shuffled to his father’s side. The two moved away, walking with the same stoop-shouldered carriage and unhurried stride.
“The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did it?” Jake’s voice drifted across the yard and Tiffany smiled toward him.
“No. Though I doubt they’d acknowledge their likeness at this time in their lives.”
“Probably not. Too bad Tom’s not living up to his father’s example. James is a good man. A hard worker.”
“Tom will be, too. He just needs some focus.”
Jake raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “A lot of folks wouldn’t see it that way.”
“I’m not a lot of folks.”
“No. You definitely aren’t.”
Tiffany wasn’t sure if the statement was a compliment or criticism. She decided to ignore it. “Well, regardless of what other people think, I’m convinced Tom is a decent young man. As for being a hard worker, I’ll find out soon enough. I offered him a job.”
Something flared in Jake’s eyes and was quickly extinguished. “Hopefully it will keep him out of trouble.”
“That’s the plan.”
Jake nodded, his face set in an expression Tiffany couldn’t read. “Good luck. Now, I’d better get the Bishops back home.”
“All right. Goodbye.”
“Bye.” As quickly as he had come, Jake was gone and the yard fell into silence once again.
Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Tiffany turned back to the fence. Jake seemed concerned about Tom working for her, though she had to give him credit for not saying as much. She couldn’t help wondering if Brian would be as willing to hold his tongue.
Shrugging away the worry, she went back to work on the fence, smiling as Bandit slipped out of his hiding place and plopped down on her feet. There were white splotches of paint on his midnight coat, and Tiffany wondered how difficult it would be to wrestle him into a bath. Probably very difficult.
Oh, well, he looked rather cute with white polka dots.
She reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out an animal cracker, then dropped it down onto the ground in front of Bandit. He inhaled it and looked up for more, the expression in his eyes so soulful, Tiffany had to laugh. “Getting a bit spoiled already, are you? That’s okay, I’m enjoying your company so you deserve a treat.”
She dropped a few more animal crackers down. “Hey, maybe Brian will stop by later. Add a little life to our paint party. What do you think?”
The dog woofed a response before dropping his head across Tiffany’s feet. She stepped to the side and lifted her paintbrush, smoothing another coat over the picket. “You know, I think I’m going to like having a dog. Talking to you is so much better than talking to myself.”
A soft snore was Bandit’s only response.

“So Tiffany offered Tom Bishop a job and you don’t approve.” Ben Avery’s words were muffled, his face half-hidden by the lid of the tackle box he was searching through.
Jake waited until his friend was upright in the bow of the boat before responding. “It’s not that I don’t approve. I’m just surprised. Tom’s been in and out of trouble for years. I’d think Ms. Anderson would want to keep her distance. That would be the wise thing to do.”
Ben chuckled as he pulled his fishing line out of the water and rebaited the hook. “Tiffany isn’t known for making choices based on the world’s wisdom. She makes them based on her heart.”
“Yeah. I’m getting that impression. Maybe someone should talk to her.”
“About what? About caring? About giving a chance to a kid who isn’t going to get one from anyone else?”
“Chances are for people who earn them. Not for smart-alecky kids with chips on their shoulders.”
“Everyone deserves a chance, Jake. You know that.”
Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I know. Unfortunately, experience has taught me that most kids like Tom don’t respond well to second, third and fourth chances.”
“But some do.”
“The minority.”
“That minority would be lost if not for people like Tiffany.”
“And Will. Look what happened to him.” Jake knew he sounded bitter. He was bitter. William Banks had been his partner for ten years. His best friend for just as long.
“He was a police officer. His situation was completely different than Tiffany’s.”
“Not so different.” Jake cast his own fishing line, forcing his emotions down before he continued speaking. “Will was murdered by a kid he’d been mentoring for a year.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
Jake shrugged and gazed out over the still water of the lake. “He devoted his life to kids like Tom. Volunteered at the community center when he had time. Tried to set an example of what a man should be. The thanks he got was a bullet to the chest.”
“And you think the same thing is going to happen to Tiffany?”
“Who knows? I just hope she understands what she’s getting herself into. All the affection, help and chances in the world can’t change a kid who doesn’t want to be changed.”
“She’s doing what she thinks is right. Living by the second greatest commandment—love your neighbor as yourself.”
“I guess I can’t argue with that.”
“You can’t argue with anything I say. I’m your pastor.”
Jake shook his head and scooped up a handful of water, sending it flying toward his fishing companion. “Yeah, well, I’m your sheriff. So watch yourself.”
Ben just smirked and leaned back against the vinyl seat. “Don’t make me sic the ladies’ auxiliary on you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“No? Don’t bet on it, friend.”
And Jake wouldn’t. He knew Ben Avery to be as tenacious as a bull terrier, and twice as wily. Seven months ago Ben had spotted Jake amidst his congregation. From that moment on, his mission had been to befriend the town’s new sheriff. Evening visits, phone calls—Ben had slowly but surely infiltrated his way into Jake’s solitary existence.
Something Jake would be eternally grateful for.
He sighed and rebaited the hook on his line. The gentle swell and sway of water rocked the boat’s hull, the lulling movements helping to ease away some of Jake’s tension. Gold-and-pink clouds dotted the horizon, the sunset slowly fading their color to silver and gray. Around the boat tiny insects buzzed in clouds of annoying energy, and every few minutes a fish or frog splashed its presence.
Jake enjoyed it all—the hum of life, the slow drifting pace of the day. Though his week’s vacation had started off rocky, it had improved as the day wore on.
Had Tiffany’s day gotten better? Was she still painting the white picket fence? Or was she off somewhere, offering friendship to another lonely soul? Maybe rescuing more hapless creatures? If so, who would rescue her? Certainly not her boyfriend. Dr. Brian. The man sounded like a loser.
“So, who’s Dr. Brian?” The question was out before Jake knew he was going to ask it.
The speculative gleam in Ben’s eyes made him wish he hadn’t. “Interesting.”
“Dr. Brian?”
“No. You. We’ve been out here for an hour and in that time we’ve discussed Tiffany Anderson saving a dog, Tiffany Anderson offering a job to a kid, and now you want to discuss Tiffany Anderson’s boyfriend.”
“I don’t want to discuss him. Doris mentioned the name this morning and I wondered who he was.”
“Dr. Brian McMath is a family practitioner. Good doctor.”
“That’s it?”
“And he’s Tiffany Anderson’s boyfriend.”
“Not a very good one.” Jake wanted to pull the words back but it was too late. Ben’s gaze settled on him once again.
“According to who?”
“According to me. He was supposed to meet Tiffany at Becky’s. By the time we got there he’d gone to prayer meeting and left her to find her own way home.”
“I guess Brian has his priorities.”
“Shouldn’t Tiffany be one?”
“That’s for Tiffany to decide.”
Jake bit back a comment that wasn’t fit to be spoken and forced himself to let the topic go. “True. And it’s not my business, anyway.”
“No?”
Jake was saved from responding by the beep of his pager. He checked the number and shook his head. “Looks like there’s more trouble. I’m going to have to call it a day.”
“I thought this was your vacation.” Ben reeled in his line, and started the boat’s motor.
“It is, but I told dispatch to keep me informed. There’s been too much petty crime this summer, and I’ve got a feeling things are going to escalate.”
“So what’s happened this time?”
“Some windows smashed at the middle school. I want to go interview the neighbors. See if anyone saw anything.”
“Any hope of that?” Ben spoke as he maneuvered the boat into the dock.
“Not much. Whoever’s causing the trouble is being careful not to get caught. That won’t last for long, though. Sooner or later he’ll get cocky and make a mistake. Then I’ll slap him with every punishment available under the law.”
“Sounds harsh, Jake. This is Small Town, U.S.A. Not the big city. People here will expect you to be lenient. Especially if it’s kids involved.”
“Not kids. A gang. I’ve dealt with enough to know the signs.”
“Still—”
Jake held up his hand, forestalling the words. “Like I said before, giving kids second chances just gives them the opportunity to commit more crimes. I won’t do that. No matter what people here expect.”
“Understood, friend. So let’s get moving. We don’t want to miss all the excitement.”
“We?”
“Sure, what better way to get people to tell the truth than to have a pastor along? Besides, we rode here together, remember?”
Jake hesitated. In D.C., he wouldn’t have considered taking a civilian along on a police matter, but here in Lakeview things were different. That was one of the reasons he’d taken the job as sheriff. One of them. “All right. Let’s go.”

Chapter Four
Tiffany rubbed at the tension in her neck and tried to ignore the loud conversation going on in the living room. Brian and his parents were discussing Lakeview’s summer crime wave. Though she was as interested in the welfare of the community as anybody, Tiffany figured five play-by-play descriptions of the broken windows at the middle school, the sheriff’s quick response to the crime scene, the dusting for fingerprints and the interviewing of witnesses was overkill. She shook her head at her own irritation and vowed to try to be a more pleasant hostess.
Or maybe she’d just keep hiding in the kitchen until the McMaths left.
The fact was, Tiffany needed a break from her Sunday afternoon routine. If the aches in her arms and legs hadn’t told her that, the image reflected in the gleaming surface of the toaster she was cleaning would have. Deep lavender smudges shadowed the area under her eyes. Dull, reddish curls escaped the confines of the chignon she’d scraped her hair into that morning. And her skin, pale on the best of days, looked like the underside of a toad—greenish-white with a shiny glow. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning and it showed.
Turning away from her reflection, Tiffany used a damp cloth to wipe the counter. Then, with quick, efficient movements, she unplugged the coffeepot, placed the last mug in the cupboard, and turned to inspect the kitchen. Every surface gleamed, including the floor which Tiffany had scrubbed within an inch of its old-linoleum life. A haphazard housekeeper, Tiffany accepted her cleaning frenzy for what it had been—avoidance.
Cleaning the kitchen had been a good excuse for escaping the living room and Brian’s parents. Though the McMaths had always been kind to Tiffany and she enjoyed their company, somehow their presence at lunch every Sunday afternoon had become a habit. A habit only Tiffany seemed to be getting tired of.
Worse, she couldn’t remember the last time she and Brian had spent any time alone together and that, along with a whole list of niggling worries, had kept Tiffany from sleeping. Now she was tired, frustrated and annoyed. She needed some time to herself. Time to think about Brian and their relationship. Or lack of one. What she did not need was a three-hour discussion on Sheriff Reed and his dedication to his job.
The loud conversation quieted, and floorboards creaked. A moment later, the McMaths called their goodbyes and Tiffany responded in kind, glancing out from the kitchen and waving, before retreating to her spot beside the kitchen sink.
Brian stepped into the room, a smile on his face and questions in his eyes. “Lunch was great. As usual. Thanks.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Did you put the leftovers out on the porch for Bandit?”
“Yes, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for a dog to eat table food. You’ll spoil him.”
“I don’t think a dog can be spoiled.”
Brian shrugged in response, the silence in the room stretching out as he surveyed the clean floor and gleaming counters. “You were being a Martha today.”
“What do you mean?”
“A Martha…you know, busy cleaning instead of talking to your guests.”
Tiffany felt her cheeks redden at the veiled criticism and bit back an angry retort. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steer their conversation back to safer ground. “Your parents didn’t seem to mind. And your mom came in to chat with me for a while. She’s really enjoying that quilting class she’s taking.”
“Yeah, and I guess she’s pretty good at it. She said one of the quilts is going to be on display at a regional folk art show. Maybe I can get some time off and we can go see it.”
Tiffany didn’t respond. Instead she reached for a teacup, filled it with water, and placed it in the microwave.
“Is that decaf?”
Startled by the question, Tiffany glanced down at the tea bag she’d taken from the cupboard. “I don’t know. I think so.”
“If you’re not sure, you probably shouldn’t drink it. Caffeine can increase appetite. You’re doing so well on your diet. I’d hate for you to blow it.”
“I think I’ll be fine.” Jerking open the microwave, Tiffany dropped the tea bag into the heated water, turning her back to Brian in the process. The last thing she wanted was a lecture about healthy eating.
“Tiff, something’s bothering you. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”
Tiffany shrugged and turned to face the man she had pinned so many dreams on. “I’m upset about what happened yesterday, Brian. I’m afraid of what it says about us.”
Brian’s brow furrowed, a puzzled expression replacing his concern. “I apologized for leaving you at the diner.”
Tiffany met Brian’s gaze, then looked down into her teacup, watching the water turn brown as she tried to think of words that would express her concern as well as her disappointment. “Yes, you did but that doesn’t change what happened.”
“Okay, I thought we’d settled this last night but I guess we didn’t.” Brian ran a hand through his hair. Tiffany was sure he glanced at his watch while he was at it. “Why don’t we go in the living room and figure out what’s going on here?”
“Fine.” Tiffany led the way down the hall and into the large room she used for company. Two overstuffed chairs and a love seat created a cozy U around the room’s fireplace. Tiffany dropped onto the love seat and took a sip of her tea as Brian made himself comfortable in one of the chairs.
When he spoke he did so with an air of weariness that made Tiffany wish she had waited another day or two before starting this conversation. “Look, I’m not happy about what happened, either. I sat at the diner, alone, waiting for you. I was almost late for my meeting because you took a detour by the lake.”
“I almost drowned, Brian.”
“I know that. And now you’re taking responsibility for a huge mutt and a juvenile delinquent. I don’t understand how you could even consider letting Tom work for you.”
Anger rose swift and vicious, sending blood pumping hard through Tiffany’s veins. She swallowed it down. “Tom is not a delinquent. He’s a boy who’s getting into trouble because he has too much time on his hands. His mother abandoned him years ago, his father drives trucks because their farm is going under. The kid is alone more than he’s with someone. No wonder he’s having problems.”
“Everyone in town knows the boy’s situation. It is sad but it’s not an excuse for poor behavior.”
“You’re right, it isn’t an excuse. It is a reason. Tom needs something constructive to do while his father is away. The job I’m offering him will fill up his time and keep him out of trouble.”
“Or bring the trouble to you. Come on, Tiffany, even you can’t be so naive as to think giving the kid a job is going to change him.”
Anger surged again and this time Tiffany let it have its way. Rising from the couch, she stretched to her full five foot eight inches, and glared at Brian who rose to face her. “I’m a thirty-three-year-old woman who built a computer support business from the ground up. My company is pulling in a profit every year. If I were as stupid and naive as you seem to think I am, I would never have accomplished what I have.”
“I never said you were stupid.”
“Stupid. Naive. It’s all the same when I’m being treated like a child.”
Brian’s eyes widened in surprise, his lithe form tense and stiff with anger. Silence stretched between them, thick as morning fog. Then, as suddenly as the argument had begun, it was over. Tension eased out of Brian’s shoulders and he ran a hand through his short blond hair. “I’m sorry for calling you naive. I’m just concerned.”
Tiffany sighed and shook her head. “But not concerned enough to wait for me at the diner.”
“Tiff…”
“Nothing you say can change the fact that your prayer meeting was more important to you than I was. And if that’s the case, I don’t think we have a future.” Tiffany paused for a moment, gathering the courage to say what she had to. “And, if we don’t have a future, then I don’t see any reason to keep seeing each other.”
“I think yesterday was more stressful for you than either of us realized. You’re exhausted. Why don’t I go home and let you rest? We can talk about this again when you’re more yourself.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
“Want me to pick you up for evening service?”
“No. I’ll drive my own car.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Thanks, anyway.”
“All right,” Brian hesitated, unsure in a way Tiffany had never seen before. “We’ll talk about this again. Soon.”
“Right.” Tiffany walked Brian to the front door and allowed herself to be pulled into a quick hug.
“We’re signed up to help with the youth volleyball game before church tonight.” Brian opened the door and stepped out into midday heat. “See you then?”
“Yes, but, Brian, I meant what I said.”
Brian, already halfway down the porch steps, turned and nodded. “I know.”
Tiffany watched as he drove away. Then stared out at her overgrown front lawn, wondering why it had taken her a year to realize that her relationship with Brian was no more than a convenience for either of them.
Only when Bandit nudged her hand and whined for attention did Tiffany shake herself from her thoughts. “Feeling lonely, big guy? Me, too. Don’t worry, we can keep each other company while I work.”
Tiffany stepped back into the house, shutting the door on the heat, and on her worries. She and Brian would have their talk eventually, but as far as Tiffany was concerned they had already said everything of importance. Now she had to get to work renovating the Victorian monstrosity she’d purchased with thoughts of children and grandchildren in mind.
Maybe Tiffany would never have the husband and family she desired, but at least she’d have a nice home to live in. Swallowing back the lump that formed in her throat, she grabbed the electric sander and set to work.
Five hours later Tiffany sat in her beat-up Cadillac, listening to the engine sputter and cough. A hand-me-down from her parents, the car had served her well for the past three years, and would continue to do so as long as she remembered to fill the gas tank. A task Tiffany would have performed had she not been running late.
Caught up in the job of stripping paint from the carved oak mantel on the living room fireplace, Tiffany had lost track of time. When the phone rang she had been too engrossed in her work to answer it. Luckily the answering machine had been turned up high, and even with the radio blasting into the room, she’d been able to hear Brian’s message—another offer to give her a ride to church. If not for the timely phone call, she might still be removing layers of paint from wood. As it was, she was probably still wearing flakes of the stuff.
Worse, she was coasting on empty, the car giving one last sputtering sigh as the engine gave out. Using the car’s forward momentum, Tiffany maneuvered to the side of the road and pulled to a stop. She resisted the urge to bang her head against the steering wheel, and focused instead on coming up with a plan of action. Most days she loved rural life, but at times like this, she would have been happy to be driving through the middle of the city, a gas station on every corner.
Unfortunately, Tiffany wasn’t in the city and the church was six miles ahead; the nearest gas station ten miles back. That, and the fact that she’d left her cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter, made her options few.
Though summer added length to daylight hours, it also added heat. Tiffany was thankful for the first and worried about the latter. She’d make it to the church before dark if she didn’t collapse from the heat first.
Of course, there was a chance someone would drive by and offer her a ride. Not much of a chance though, since Tiffany had bypassed Main Street and headed for church on one of the least traveled roads in Lakeview. Sighing in exasperation she opened the car door and stepped out into the heat. Waves of scorching air floated up from the pavement, curling around Tiffany’s ankles and up her legs, hugging her body like a thick winter coat.
She was covered with sweat before she took a step.
Even sweating and stumbling along in high heels, Tiffany didn’t mind the first mile. The second mile took more effort, and by the third, she would have given her life’s savings for a drink of water. “Why did I take this road? Of all the roads I could have chosen, why the one that no one travels?”
But of course Tiffany knew the answer. She’d been running late and had hoped to make up for lost time by avoiding traffic and stop signs. She’d succeeded. There hadn’t been a car or a sign for miles.
By the time Tiffany reached the crossroad two miles from church, a pulsing pain beat behind her eyes and her stomach knotted with a familiar and dreaded nausea. With each step the pain grew sharper and soon Tiffany’s desire for water was replaced by an overwhelming need to find a quiet, dark place to hide. Sinking down onto the thick roadside grass, she rested her head on her knees and prayed the migraine would pass quickly.

Jake’s day had been pleasant until he spotted the abandoned car. He’d gone to church, had lunch at the diner and spent the afternoon exploring the back roads of Franklin County. Though he’d been living in rural Virginia for a year, the novelty of traffic-free travel hadn’t worn off and Jake often took the back roads for the sheer pleasure of not seeing another car.
Today was no different. Prompted by Ben Avery, Jake had decided to attend evening service and had picked a long, winding route to the church. He’d been enjoying the play of greens and browns in the fields that lined Old Farm Road when he saw the car.
Long, lean and old, the Cadillac was as easy to spot as a whale on the beach. Though abandoned cars weren’t unusual, finding one on a little-used road was. Jake pulled over to examine the vehicle. The doors and windows were locked, the trunk closed tight, and the car empty.
Relieved, Jake got back in his truck and called in the tag number. His relief was short-lived.
Tiffany Anderson owned the car.
Jake figured a woman willing to risk her life for a dog, one ready to give a chance to a troubled teenager, might just offer a ride to a hitchhiker. He could picture Tiffany, red-gold hair swirling in a tangle of curls, smiling as she motioned for some not-so-helpless man to get into her car.
Jake examined the vehicle again, looking closely for signs of a struggle. He saw nothing that would lead him to believe Tiffany was in danger, but that did little to allay his concern. Images rose in his mind, images of other women. Women as compassionate and softhearted as Tiffany, who had been repaid evil for their kindness.
God willing, Tiffany hadn’t met the same fate.
Jake forced his mind away from the memories that haunted him. This was rural Virginia, after all, not Washington, D.C. No doubt Tiffany had already made it safely to her destination. Still, there was no harm in making sure.
Jake hopped in his truck and headed in the direction the Cadillac was pointing. He’d driven close to five miles when he spotted a lone figure waving forlornly from the side of the road. Even the dim light of dusk couldn’t hide the vibrant color of Tiffany’s hair. Coasting to a stop, Jake stepped out into the heat and humidity. “I saw your car a few miles back. Need a lift?”
“Yes. I ran out of gas.”
There was no life, no vitality in Tiffany’s voice, and as Jake stepped closer, he realized the soft glow of health he’d admired the day before had been replaced by a sickly grayish hue. Lines of pain played around her eyes and she stumbled a bit as she moved toward him.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just a headache.”
Just a headache, but Tiffany’s hands were shaking as she brushed a stray curl from her cheek. Jake’s concern grew, and he grasped her arm, leading her to the truck. “You need to get out of the heat. Get in the truck. I’ll drive you home.”
“I need to go to church. I promised I’d help serve refreshments at the volleyball game.”
“You need to go home. You’re sick.”
“I can’t go home. I promised. And Brian’s waiting for me.”
“Like he waited for you at the diner?” The minute the words were out, Jake wished he could take them back. Tiffany’s already drooping shoulders sagged even more and she shrugged away from his grasp, moving toward the truck with shuffling steps.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Tiffany didn’t respond. Her silence said more than words.
Watching her, Jake noted the deep shadows beneath her eyes and the perspiration beading her forehead. Tension pulled at the corners of her mouth and beat harshly in the hollow of her throat where her pulse pounded furiously. There was nothing Jake could say to ease Tiffany’s pain; instead he gently moved her fumbling hands from the door handle and opened the truck door. “Hop in. I’ll take you to the church. Grace Baptist?” Jake waited for Tiffany’s nod of affirmation. “I was on my way there anyway.”
Tiffany didn’t look at Jake. She couldn’t. For the second time in as many days, he’d come to her rescue and Tiffany’s humiliation at needing his help almost outweighed the pain in her head. Even worse had been his words, they’d been like a knife twisting in an open wound. Not because they’d been spoken harshly, but because they were true.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand, Tiffany tried to slide into the raised cab of the truck. What had been easy while wearing shorts proved more difficult in the long, flowing sundress she wore. As she tried to lift herself into the cab the fabric of her dress caught under pain-clumsy feet and Tiffany pitched forward, banging her head against the door of the truck. Even before the pain could register, strong hands gripped Tiffany’s shoulders and held her steady while she regained her balance. Then, as she reached to untangle her feet from the dress, Tiffany was lifted into the truck.
Flustered, she tucked the skirt of her dress neatly around her legs and tried not to look at Jake. The last time a man attempted to lift her, Tiffany had been eleven years old exploring an abandoned cabin with her first crush. Poor Danny Wilson. He’d been outweighed by twenty pounds, but had still made a valiant effort to boost her into a second-story window. They’d both ended up in a heap on the ground.
Thank goodness Jake had proven stronger than Danny. Tiffany had suffered enough embarrassment in the past two days without adding an attempt to crush the sheriff to the list. Blinking rapidly, she forced back the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks, then leaned forward to press a hand against the pulsing pain behind her eyes.
“Ready?” Jake slid into the driver’s seat and Tiffany could feel his concerned gaze.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to go home?”
She wasn’t, but she nodded anyway.
“All right. Why don’t you rest your eyes until we get there?”
Tiffany did as Jake suggested, keeping her hand pressed against her eyes and leaning her head against the window. When the truck engine roared to life, she winced at the sound, bracing herself against the jolting movement of the truck on rough pavement.
Light, sound, motion—they were too bright, too loud, too fast.
A gentle hand reached out and brushed aside curls that had fallen against Tiffany’s cheek. “You’re not up to a volleyball game. Why don’t I drive to the church, run in and tell Brian you need him? He can give you a ride home.”
The idea of spending time with Brian didn’t appeal to Tiffany, but she didn’t have the energy to think of an alternative. “That’s fine.”
The truck slowed as Jake turned into the church parking lot. Even through the closed window, Tiffany could hear people milling about, chatting and laughing as they made their way from parked cars. Usually she would have been eager to join the fellowship and fun but now the sounds were like lightning bolts, shooting pain into her skull.
As if sensing her discomfort, Jake spoke quietly, “I’ll park in the overflow lot. It’s quieter there.”
The voices faded to a soft murmur, the bustle of the main parking lot replaced by the stillness of the side lot. A warm breeze carried the sweet scent of honeysuckle into the truck as Jake opened the door. “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a minute.”
When the door closed with a gentle click, Tiffany unbuckled her seat belt and drew her knees up to her chest. Imagining Brian’s face when Jake asked for his help did little to comfort her. Tiffany had been dating Brian for almost a year, had imagined herself married with a house full of children, had even convinced herself that God wanted Brian to be her husband. Only now did she realize that in all her daydreams she had never pictured Brian in the Victorian monstrosity she owned. Nor could she see him with a crowd of boisterous children.
Her friends, her family, even the kids in the Sunday school class she taught thought Brian and Tiffany were a perfect match. Apparently the world was filled with fools. And Tiffany was the biggest one of all.
One tear escaped. Another joined it, sliding down Tiffany’s cheeks and dropping onto her dress. Would Brian come for her? Did he care enough to leave the game and take her home?
Tiffany wanted to believe he would. Wanted to believe that what she’d dreamed of and longed for was more than just a fantasy. Somehow though, she doubted it.

Chapter Five
Jake hurried toward the church, the sound of laughter and good-spirited competition drawing him around the corner of the building. A volleyball net had been set up and teams of teens were going after the ball with more enthusiasm than skill. It didn’t take long to locate the doctor. Everyone seemed to know him, and all were eager to point Jake in the right direction. Seated on a plastic lawn chair, his short, blond hair combed neatly to the side, Brian McMath held himself erect, surveying the net and players with a look of amused tolerance that set Jake’s teeth on edge. Even from a distance, Jake could see the fastidious crease in the doctor’s khaki pants and the neat, even column of numbers he’d written on the white board he held in his hand.
The doctor’s finicky appearance and staid expression were a direct foil to Tiffany’s vibrancy and spirit. How the two had ended up together was a mystery. Not that it was any of Jake’s business. He just hoped the good doctor didn’t try to fit Tiffany into a mold of his making. Jake had grown up watching a vibrant woman beaten down. He’d hate to see it happen to Tiffany.
“Dr. McMath?”
“Yes?” McMath looked up, his eyes wary.
“I’m Sheriff Jake Reed,” Jake offered his hand as Brian put down the white board and stood to face him.
“Sheriff Reed,” Brian’s handshake was firm, his expression curious, “Nice to meet you.”
“Thanks. Sorry to interrupt your scorekeeping but I gave Tiffany Anderson a lift from Old Farm Road. Her car ran out of gas on the way here.”
“Really? I wonder what she was doing traveling on that back road. I’ve told her a hundred times not to take that route.”
“I guess she didn’t listen.”
“Yeah, well, that’s pretty typical of Tiffany.”
Jake didn’t like Brian’s tone, or his words. “She’s an adult. I guess she’s capable of deciding what road to drive on.”
“If she were capable of that, she wouldn’t have needed a ride here. Where is she, anyway?”
Jake had to bite down on the urge to shove his fist into the doctor’s face. He’d met plenty of men like Brian McMath, and he hadn’t liked any of them. “She’s got a headache so she’s waiting in my truck.”
“A migraine?”
“She didn’t say, but it looks like she’s in a lot of pain.”
“She must have been out in the heat too long.” The crowd cheered and Brian’s gaze drifted from Jake to the game. Picking up the white board, he made a quick notation before turning his attention back to Jake. “I guess this means she won’t be helping with the refreshments.”
Jake’s jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists. “I guess not.”
“Well, thanks for letting me know. I’ll ask one of the girls to fill in.” Brian turned back to the game. “Tell Tiffany I hope she feels better.”
As quickly as that, Jake was dismissed. He stood still for a moment, wondering if Brian McMath was as poor a physician as he was a friend. He doubted it. Men like McMath were good at prioritizing. And, if Jake didn’t miss his guess, patients were much more important to Brian than a girlfriend would ever be.
Swallowing back his frustration, Jake turned away from the doctor and the game. Tiffany would be upset. Letting her see his anger would only make things worse. He made a quick circuit of the church, burning off some steam as he went, and approached his truck quietly, hoping that Tiffany had dozed off.
She hadn’t. Hunched over her knees, curly hair tumbling around her shoulders, Tiffany looked defeated. She glanced up when the door opened, her eyes pools of dark ink in the fading light. In the space of a heartbeat, Jake knew she hadn’t expected Brian to be with him. There was no question in her eyes, only acceptance. “Did you find Brian?”
“Yeah. He was keeping score.”
Tiffany nodded, wincing at the movement. “I guess he’s pretty busy.”
Jake remained silent, afraid if he opened his mouth, he’d ask why Tiffany even cared what the jerk did.
“I’m sure I can find someone else to give me a ride.”
“Forget it. You’re already in my truck. I’ll give you a ride.” Jake heard the harshness in his voice and regretted it.
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
Taking a deep breath, Jake reined in his emotions and gentled his voice. “You’re not. I’m happy to help out. Now, fasten your seat belt and relax. I’ll have you home in a few minutes.”
Tiffany wished the earth would open and swallow her. First the lake, now this. If her head hadn’t been pounding so badly she might have said something witty and flip. At least she could have tried to salvage a little dignity. As it was, she couldn’t think past the pain, and she figured anything she said would end up sounding whiny and pitiful.
She held her silence and fastened her seat belt.
She expected Jake to start the truck. Instead, he leaned toward her, his shoulder pressing against hers as he opened the glove compartment. Tiffany tried to ignore the warmth of Jake’s arm and the clean, fragrant scent of shampoo that lingered in the air after he moved away.
“I’ve got some Tylenol here and a bottle of water in the back of the truck. You want to take a couple of these?”
Tylenol wouldn’t touch the pain, but Tiffany grabbed the bottle anyway. She struggled with the lid for a moment, feeling her face burn with heat as the bottle slipped and slid beneath her fingers.
“Here,” Jake reached over and removed the bottle from Tiffany’s fumbling grasp, “Let me do it. How many do you want?”
“Three, for now.”
Jake raised his eyebrows but poured three pills into Tiffany’s waiting hand. Then he slid open the truck’s back window, reaching through it to a large cooler that sat pressed up against the cab. When he handed the bottle of water to Tiffany, the coolness felt heavenly in her hand and she couldn’t resist pressing the ice-damp plastic against her throbbing eyes.
It took a moment for her to remember she wasn’t alone. When she did, she looked over at Jake. He watched her, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had a rough couple of days.”
The compassion in his voice made her want to lean in close and lay her head against his shoulder. Instead she popped the pills in her mouth and gulped a mouthful of icy water. “Yes, it has been difficult.”
“Hopefully a good night’s sleep will make things look better.”
Tiffany doubted it, but she tried to smile anyway.
Jake watched her for a moment, opened his mouth as if to speak, then changed his mind. Shoving the keys into the ignition he started the truck. “All right. Let’s get you home.”

Tiffany’s house reflected the cheerful warmth of its owner. Or so Jake thought as he paced through her hall. A golden-oak floor gleamed in soft overhead light, and quilts of various sizes and colors hung against cream-colored walls. At one end of the hall a curved stairway led to the upper level of the house, its intricately carved banister the same golden tone as the floor. At the other end a two-paneled door opened into Tiffany’s kitchen and dining room. On either side of the hall, doors opened into even more rooms.
Jake had been in enough Victorian-era homes to recognize the Queen Anne architecture. The small room to one side of the front door had once served as a receiving room. Now it contained a sewing table and a hodgepodge of colorful fabric. A door on the opposite side of the foyer opened into the parlor where Jake had led Tiffany when they’d returned. Despite the oversize dimensions of the room, it felt cozy and comfortable. Tiffany had chosen bright colors to accent the dark pine floor. A throw rug of red and gold lay centered in front of the fireplace. Twin recliners and a matching love seat surrounded it, their heavy cream brocade rich and luxuriant against the dark floor. Jake knew if he glanced in the room he would see Tiffany curled up on the love seat, resting against gold-and-red pillows.
Though she had said he should go home, Jake hadn’t felt comfortable leaving her alone. He’d heard that migraines were debilitating, but watching Tiffany had given new meaning to the word. She’d been withdrawn during the ride home, leaning against the seat with her hands pressed against her eyes. Only twice had she spoken, once to ask Jake to turn off the radio and once to tell him to stop the truck. That time his response had almost come too late. He’d barely coasted to a stop when Tiffany yanked open her door and jumped out. By the time he reached her she was kneeling at the side of the road vomiting into a clump of bushes. Jake knew Tiffany would be embarrassed later, but she hadn’t argued when he wet a pile of napkins with bottled water and used them to cool her hot face.
Nor had she protested when they arrived at her house and he insisted on following her inside. Jake doubted she had even noticed his presence until he asked if he could get her something. Tiffany had motioned toward the end of the hall and said something about medicine before she retreated to the parlor and collapsed on the love seat.
Finding the medicine hadn’t been difficult. Tiffany’s kitchen, though busy with color and texture, was well organized. Jake had bypassed white glass-fronted cupboards with their display of china, and had searched a small pantry near the refrigerator.
He’d found what he was looking for on the top shelf next to a first aid kit and an unopened box of Tylenol. The clear plastic bag contained a prescription bottle, a pamphlet of information about the drug Imitrex, and what looked to be an epinephrine kit. Jake had taken the bag and a glass of water to Tiffany, and watched as she took a pill from the bottle and swallowed it. He had wished he could do more. Maybe that’s why he’d stayed.
Or maybe he just didn’t like the idea that Tiffany’s boyfriend had left her to fend for herself again. In Jake’s estimation, a woman as easygoing and good-hearted as Tiffany deserved better than a lonely night, a debilitating headache and huge dog whining at her feet.
Speaking of which, where had the dog disappeared to?
Jake eyed the open door of the sewing room, and shook his head. He’d locked the mutt inside the room twice since his arrival. Though it seemed inconceivable that a dog who couldn’t swim could open a door, the evidence was clear—what the dog lacked in swimming ability, he made up for in escape techniques.
At least he was loyal, escaping his prison and slinking into the parlor to lay his head on Tiffany’s legs, rather than running around the house getting into mischief. Jake figured that’s where Bandit was now, and he walked toward the room, ready to grab the mutt and put him outside.
Tiffany heard the soft creak of a floorboard outside the living room door and struggled to sit up. That involved pushing Bandit’s head off her legs, and swinging those same legs off the love seat so that her feet touched the floor. Both tasks took all the energy Tiffany had, but at least the pain in her head had subsided to a dull throb.
“Feeling any better?” Jake walked through the door, his voice low.
“Yes, thanks.”
“Mind if I turn on a light?”
“No, go ahead.”
The overhead light burst to life and Tiffany blinked rapidly, adjusting her eyes to the brightness. When she looked up, Jake stood before her, his left foot gently nudging Bandit out of the way. “Move, Houdini.”
“Houdini?” Tiffany glanced toward the dog, who watched her with dark, innocent eyes.
“Yeah, I locked that mutt in your sewing room twice. And he got out. Twice.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. He can’t swim, but he can open doors?” Tiffany smiled and turned back to Jake, catching her breath in surprise when she realized he had lowered himself onto one knee and was staring intently into her face.
For a moment both were silent. Tiffany could feel each beat of her heart, could smell the same clean, soapy scent she had noticed in the truck. She could almost imagine she saw a look of admiration in Jake’s eyes, could almost believe he cared about her and that his concern went beyond his duty as an officer of the law.
Then she remembered vomiting on the side of the road. “You didn’t have to stay.”
“No?” Jake’s dark brows lifted, questioning the abruptness of her tone.
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the way it was meant. I should have said, thank you for staying.”
“I didn’t mind. Your house is interesting. Queen Anne, right?”
Tiffany knew Jake’s question was meant to put her at ease and she smiled gratefully. “Yes. You know something about Victorian architecture?”
“A bit. Visiting historic buildings was a hobby of mine when I lived in D.C. I’ve picked it up again here in Lakeview.”
“Well, there are plenty of old homes to see in the area. And many of them have interesting histories. Like this one,” Tiffany paused and gestured around the parlor. “It was built in 1876 for a doctor. He spent five thousand dollars to have it built to his specifications.”
“Did he live here? Or just see patients?”
“Oh, he lived here. He and his wife raised seven children….” Tiffany’s voice trailed off as she realized she was babbling on about something Jake probably had no interest in. “Sorry, I got off on a tangent.”
“I was enjoying your tangent.”
“Really?” Tiffany cringed at the hopeful sound in her voice. Being around Jake had turned her into a blathering idiot.
“Yeah, really.” There was a smile in Jake’s voice and Tiffany could feel her own smile forming.
“Well, most people don’t. My family and friends all thought I was crazy to buy this old place. And I can’t say I blame them. It was in pretty bad shape.”
“Not anymore. You’re doing a great job restoring it.”
“Thanks, but with my computer business, I just don’t have the time to do it all.” Tiffany’s gaze drifted to the half-stripped fireplace mantel. “I’ve got the kitchen, the hall and this room almost finished. And my bedroom upstairs. But there’s still a lot to do.”
“Is that why you hired Tom?”
“Yes, that was part of it.”
“And the other part was that you figured he needed a place to spend his time?”
Jake’s words made Tiffany’s shoulders tense. After Brian’s comments on her naïveté, she felt defensive about hiring Tom. But when she looked into Jake’s midnight eyes, there was no condemnation, just interest and curiosity. Relaxing, Tiffany shrugged her shoulders and tried to think of the best way to answer Jake’s question. “Wanting to give Tom a place to spend time helped me make my decision. But it was his remorse that made me certain he’d be a good employee.”
“Remorse?”
“Yes. I could tell from speaking with him that Tom regretted what he had done. If he had any idea the dog would be hurt, I think he would have fought the other kids to keep it from happening.”
“I’m not so sure of that. This isn’t the first time Tom’s made a poor decision, and there aren’t many people in this town who are willing to forget that.”
“There should be. We’ve been called to forgive as Christ forgave us. Besides, someone needs to help the Bishops. Things have been hard for them lately.”
“It doesn’t have to be you, Tiffany. Not when it might mean putting yourself in danger.”
“I don’t think there’s any danger in giving Tom a job.”
“I hope not. But be careful. I’ve seen things like this go bad before.”
Jake spoke quietly, a shadow darkening his eyes, and Tiffany wondered what had put it there. She resisted the urge to ask him, telling herself she didn’t know him well enough to pry. “I’ll be careful. But like I said, I think Tom will be fine. He just needs someone to believe in him.”
Jake was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he watched Tiffany. “You and your house make a good match.”
Puzzled by the turn in conversation, Tiffany brushed at a stray curl and commanded her sluggish brain to respond. “How’s that?”
“Both of you are interesting and unbelievably unique.”
Tiffany wasn’t sure Jake’s words were a compliment, but at least he hadn’t said they were both old and decrepit. “Thanks. I guess.”
Jake laughed quietly, the sound deep and mellow. “See, that’s what I mean. Most women wouldn’t thank a man for comparing them to a house.”
Tiffany smiled and leaned back against an oversize pillow. The long day, the comfort of Jake’s presence and the effects of the medication she’d taken made Tiffany feel drowsy and warm. Her eyes drifted closed and she forced them back open.
“You’re exhausted. I’d better go.” Jake stood and Tiffany followed suit, forcing her aching body up from the couch.
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Are you sure you should be walking anywhere?”
“I’m much better. The headache is down to a dull throb.”
Jake nodded and led the way out the door and into the hall. “Nice collection of quilts.”
“Thank you. My mother and grandmother are both quilters. Some of these are theirs. Others I bought at flea markets and garage sales.”
“Do you quilt?”
“When I can find time. Which isn’t often enough. That quilt,” Tiffany gestured to a quilt done in shades of blue and yellow, “is one of mine.”
Jake stepped closer, examining the pattern. “This is my favorite. It looks like a bursting star.”
“You’re close. It’s a broken star pattern.”
“Looks pretty complicated.”
“It wasn’t one of the easiest quilts I’ve made but I enjoyed doing it.”
“Your love of the craft shows. The work is detailed and exact. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.”
Jake continued studying the quilt for a moment before he turned away. “I’d better leave you to your rest.”
“Thanks again.”
“No problem. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Jake pulled open the front door and stepped out into the night. “Tiffany?”
Something about the way Jake said her name sent Tiffany’s heart skittering in her chest. “Yes?”
“I’m pretty sure Tom is going to take the job you offered him. If he does and you have any trouble, give the station a ring. I’m on vacation for a week, but they know how to reach me. Tell the dispatcher I want to be called.”
“All right.”
Without another word, Jake walked down the porch steps, climbed into his truck and drove away.
Tiffany watched as the taillights of the Chevy disappeared. Then she closed the front door and leaned against its heavy wood. With Jake gone the house seemed silent and lonely, the cream-colored hallway with its bright quilts too empty. There should be children upstairs giggling and whispering secrets to one another, and toys scattered across the floors. Instead there was silence and a neatness that came from living alone.
Dating Brian had put Tiffany’s dream of marriage and a family within her reach, and she knew that if she backed down, if she allowed their relationship to continue, she could have all the things she wanted so desperately.
But at what cost?

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