Famous In A Small Town. Kristina Knight

and the 9-1-1 center in the next county took care of most dispatch calls.

      God, but he loved his small town. He just loved it a little more when his sister wasn’t doing her best to become a criminal.

      “You shouldn’t have to play peacemaker between my little sister and your squad room.”

      “Stuck in the middle is no place I haven’t been a time or two, and since the other kids cleared her, there’s no reason to add another asterisk to her record.” He put his hand on Collin’s arm. “But, Col, you’re gonna have to talk to her at some point about the mischief calls, the skipping curfew. She’s headed down a dangerous road.”

      James flipped on the fluorescent lights as he led Collin behind the bulletproof glass protecting the reception area. Collin knew from a school field trip that the holding cells were in the basement along with a storm shelter, the deputy’s cubicles in the back half of the first floor, and that their workout room shared space with the department’s small armory on the second floor. He followed James through the maze of cubicles.

      Collin sighed. “Yeah. I know.” He just didn’t know how to have the conversation that Amanda obviously needed. He wasn’t her father or even a guardian.

      Since Gladys’s fall just before the holidays, Amanda had been on a tear. Skipping curfew, getting speeding tickets as if she were trying to make the Guinness Book of World Records. She’d even been caught defacing the fountain in the square by filling it with laundry detergent. Amanda needed parents and he didn’t have a clue how to fill that role for her.

      “She’s not a bad kid.”

      “I know that, too.” She was just messed up, the way they’d all been messed up by their parents. Samson and Maddie Tyler had been absentee parents for half of Collin’s life, and nearly all of Amanda’s. There would be the occasional birthday card, and one year they showed up at Christmas, but for the most part the people who were supposed to parent Collin, Amanda and their sister, Mara, had simply not.

      “I can get you guys into family counseling, if you think it would help.”

      Sitting in a stuffy office talking about their lack of parental supervision sounded like the fifth circle of hell to Collin. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Something had to have set Amanda off and, despite all his efforts to talk to his baby sister, he hadn’t been able to figure out what it was.

      “I’ll think about it.”

      They rounded a corner and he saw Amanda sitting cross-legged in an old plastic chair. Her long blond hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and she wore her old Converse sneakers—with fresh scorch marks—along with ripped-up jeans and a sweatshirt with an image of the galaxy and the words You Are Here with an arrow on it.

      Collin wanted to shake her. She was here, in a police station, when she could be home with her family. All she had to do was stop whatever crazy train she’d jumped on.

      Amanda chewed on her bottom lip and wrapped and unwrapped the string from her hoodie around her finger. She was just a kid. A lost, hurt kid, and he was doing a crap job of making her feel safe.

      “Collin’s here,” James said as they neared the cubicle.

      Amanda straightened in her chair, put her feet on the floor and folded her arms over her chest. “I didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t have to bother him.”

      “How else were you going to get home, kid? You’re grounded from the car, remember?” James backed away, leaving them to sort this out without him.

      Amanda eyed him for a long minute. “I’ve got two legs.”

      “You’d rather walk the ten miles back to the orchard than spend fifteen minutes in the truck with me, huh?” Collin asked, leaned a shoulder against the cubicle wall.

      Amanda twisted her mouth to the side. “I didn’t want you to be bothered.”

      And just like that, Collin wanted to shake her again. She wasn’t a bother to him, she was his sister. But no matter what he did, he just seemed to mess things up between them. After speeding ticket number four, he’d taken her car keys. After the laundry soap incident, he’d banned her from being out after five.

      He wasn’t sure what he could take away from her for this latest stunt.

      Hell, maybe he should give something back. After all, she’d helped to put out the fire the other teens had set. A fire that could have decimated the courthouse square or that might have killed or seriously injured someone.

      Maybe even Amanda.

      “You’re not a bother, kid.”

      She mumbled something he didn’t quite hear. He waited, but she didn’t say anything else.

      Collin shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure what to do next. He needed her to know she wasn’t a nuisance to him. But her actions lately were a nuisance to him. A nuisance and a worry. He was doing his best to keep the orchard profitable, to keep Amanda comfortable, to ensure their grandmother’s recovery. His job was to keep everything and everyone in their little circle together, and he felt as if he was losing his grip on every single aspect.

      He hooked his thumb toward the front door. “How about we get out of here?”

      Amanda shrugged but she stood quickly and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’m free to go?”

      “Unless you’re changing your story about the fire,” James said. He stood near the wall.

      “I just tried to help put it out. I didn’t even know they were in that alley until I smelled the smoke.” She shot James a look from the corner of her eye, and Collin fisted his hands. She knew more than she was letting on.

      “That’s good enough for me, then,” James said, using his cop voice.

      “If it’s good enough for the law...” Collin teased, but he wasn’t rewarded with one of Amanda’s reluctant smiles. Her shoulders stiffened and her mouth turned down at the corners. “Just a joke, kiddo. You said you weren’t involved in the setting, just the dousing. That’s all that matters.”

      She mumbled something else under her breath and didn’t meet his eyes.

      “Amanda—” he began, but she interrupted.

      “Can we just go home?”

      “Sure.”

      Once they were in the truck and clear of the sheriff’s office, Collin said, “You want to talk about it?”

      “About what?”

      “About why you were still in town when you know you (a) don’t have a car, and (b) still have a curfew, and I’m going to add a C to it—why did you lie to James about your involvement?” She pressed her lips together. “Fine, we’ll start with the easy one. Why didn’t you ride the bus home after school?”

      Amanda crossed her arms over her chest, a move Collin was all too familiar with. He’d done the same too many times to count when he was a teenager, but their sister, Mara, had made the gesture a near art form. “I’m seventeen years old. The bus is vile,” Amanda declared.

      “So you were...what? Going to walk the ten miles out to the orchard and you just happened to come across a few pyromaniacs who were trying to set the courthouse on fire?”

      “They were just testing the combustion rates of visco fuses and spolettes. After the fire marshal did his talk about fireworks safety leading up to the Memorial Day Kick Off the Summer celebration, they got the idea that they’d mess with the fuses for the big fireworks show. Trick the workers into thinking they’d bought a bunch of duds, and then scare the crap out of them when everything started going off at once.”

      Collin gripped the steering wheel harder. That could have gotten someone seriously hurt. “And you know this how?”

      Amanda blew out a breath. “I was hiding out under the bleachers in the