Protecting Her Son. Joan Kilby

Jackson and Crucek and yanked away the plastic bag. He held it up to the light, turned it this way and that.

      Paula clenched her fists. If her partner was in on the plot to break her, she would never forgive him. If she was found in possession of drugs, all her credibility was gone. Whatever the guys’ motivation was, this had the potential to hurt her. Badly.

      Riley opened the bag and shook a large irregular crystal into his palm. He brought his hand to his mouth and took a lick. Ran the taste around in his mouth. “Rock sugar. The kind some people put in their coffee.”

      Sugar. Relief flooded her, weakening her knees. She hadn’t been set up with real drugs. They didn’t know anything. No one was out to get her. Nick hadn’t infiltrated the station. John wouldn’t find out about her past.

      The men erupted in roars of laughter.

      Jackson slapped her on the back. “We got you good, Drummond!”

      “Welcome to Summerside P.D.” Crucek had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

      “You’re a good sport.” Delinsky grinned and squeezed her arm.

      The men drifted away, still crowing. “She took it so seriously.” “Did you see her expression?” “I could hardly keep a straight face.”

      Paula stood where she was, trembling and trying not to show it. Bloody bastards thought they were so clever. She’d love to give them a dose of their own medicine. But she didn’t dare, not with even a faint possibility of her detective stripes dangling in front of her. She had to keep on the straight and narrow, regardless of how much she’d like to grind these backwoods amateur cops into the dirt.

      Riley took her arm and led her to the bench, gently pushed her onto it. He sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “It was just a joke.”

      She shook off his hand, turning her pent-up fury on him. “Stay out of it. I can fight my own battles.”

      “They hid my gun the first week I was here,” Riley went on as though she hadn’t bitten his head off. “I thought I’d lost it. I was shitting myself. Idiot that I was, I didn’t even get that they were hazing me. They waited until I wrote up a missing-equipment report and was about to give it to John before they brought out my revolver from wherever they’d hidden it.”

      “What did you do?” Paula asked. Was there a way to get even without cost to her? Doubtful. She knew how hazing worked. If you got mad, you were a poor sport. If you tried to get even, the jokes escalated.

      “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do. But it’s not so bad here in Summerside. I’ve seen army squadrons where newcomers are hazed for months. But these guys will do it only once. They called you a good sport—after today you won’t have to worry about them.” Riley paused. “You did take it awfully seriously.” He waited, as if for an explanation.

      “I was never treated like that in my other units.” She didn’t mention the moving of files, the swapping of her hat for one three sizes too big. But those pranks happened years ago, when she was a rookie. This seemed malicious. Or was she being overly sensitive? “Were you in on it?”

      “No. I’m not a fan of practical jokes.” Riley drew a thumbnail along the grain of the bench, making a shallow crease in the wood. “I don’t think they meant to upset you. Maybe they inadvertently hit close to the bone.” He searched her face. “Did they?”

      Really? He wanted her to cozy up and confide in him? Think again, mate. He might be handsome and sexy and professional and a whole lot of things she admired, but they had a job to do and that’s where their connection ended. Besides, she’d rather do a month of solid paperwork than trust someone she’d just met with her past.

      Paula got to her feet. She unclenched her fingers and felt the blood flow into them. “Shouldn’t we be out on traffic patrol, nailing speeders?”

      Riley continued to regard her with that measured gaze. She shifted edgily, twisting her cap. Finally he rose and tipped a sardonic finger to his brow. “Okay. Partner.”

      * * *

      PAULA KNOCKED ON THE open classroom door, arriving for her parent-teacher interview. The walls were lined with brightly colored student artwork. Tables, not desks, were used for seating. At the back of the room beanbags formed a reading circle next to the bookshelf. Her new job might be less than she’d hoped for but at least for Jamie the atmosphere was warm and welcoming.

      Katie Henning, seated at her desk, glanced at her schedule. “You must be Paula, Jamie’s mum. Please come in.”

      “It’s nice to have a parent-teacher meeting early in the year,” Paula said, taking a seat. Katie had her brother’s dark hair, high cheekbones and sculpted mouth. But instead of dark brown eyes, Katie’s were pale green.

      “We like to get parents involved in their child’s education right from the start.” Katie leafed through the stack of folders on her desk. “I’ve got some of Jamie’s work to show you.”

      “We have someone else in common besides Jamie,” Paula said. “Your brother, Riley.”

      “I know, he told me.” Katie pulled a folder with Jamie Drummond written across the top. “I asked Riley if you two would give my class a lesson in bike safety. Would you be up for that? I’ll bet your son would be thrilled to show off his mum, the cop.”

      Paula wasn’t sure she wanted to draw attention to Jamie being her son. But she guessed if Nick were going to find out about the boy, he would do so regardless of a bike safety talk. “That sounds fine.”

      “We’ll schedule it in a few weeks, when the kids have settled in.” Katie smiled. “Jamie’s a lovely boy.”

      Katie probably said that to all the parents but Paula couldn’t help feel a rush of maternal pride. “He’s enjoying school. Is it too early to ask how he’s doing in class?”

      “He’s adjusting well, playing with the other children. Judging from his drawings he has excellent fine motor skills.”

      “So you have no concerns at this point?”

      “There is one thing. The other day I asked the children to draw pictures of their parents’ occupations. He depicted you in a police uniform. All good there.” Katie removed a drawing from Jamie’s folder and passed it across the desk. “But is his father really an astronaut?”

      Paula pressed her fingers to her mouth at the cartoon-like figure of a man in a space suit. Poor Jamie. School activities and interacting with other students would inevitably highlight his lack of a father. She’d tried to prepare him but she couldn’t foresee every contingency.

      “I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you about Jamie’s father before.”

      “You can tell me now,” Katie said. “This meeting is for parents and teachers to talk about any issues or special problems.”

      “Jamie’s never met his father. N-Nicholas and I separated before Jamie was born. He isn’t an astronaut. He’s…a businessman,” she lied, choosing her words carefully. “He’s not in our lives. Never has been and never will be. I have full custody. I’ve provided a copy of the court order to the school office. If Jamie’s father were ever to come to Summerside, he’s not to have any contact with Jamie. That’s extremely important. No contact. At all.”

      “We have a couple of students where custody is an issue,” Katie said. “Jamie’s not alone there.”

      Paula doubted her son’s situation was remotely similar to the other pupils’. She didn’t want to be one of those overprotective helicopter mothers hovering over her child, but Nick’s re-emergence had spiked her sense of vulnerability. She gripped her purse as Katie once again leafed through Jamie’s folder.

      “Ah, yes. I see you’ve noted on his information sheet that you, Karen Drummond and Sally Leeds are the only people authorized to pick him up from school.”

      “Karen