Kiss Me, Sheriff!. Wendy Warren

everyone’s gaze, Gilberto shrugged.

      It was clear the men were about to cross-examine him. “Maybe he was afraid,” she offered, “and thought things would be easier if he told you what you wanted to hear.”

      “Is that what happened?” Derek questioned.

      Gilberto shrugged again.

      Roddy smacked his hands on his thighs and slid low in his seat, tossing back his head. “Aw! Are you crazy? You lied to get into trouble. Cops love stupid suspects like you.” He looked at Derek. “No offense, man.”

      Derek stared long enough to make Roddy sit up in his seat. “None taken.” Then he turned his attention back to Gilberto. The next obvious question was Where did you get the money you were exchanging for the bike? but Derek didn’t ask it. After a moment, he rose. “Make sure you’re in school when you’re supposed to be. I’ll be checking with your teacher and the principal. Don’t make me come look for you.”

      Gilberto nodded. He looked miserable still, but relieved and more than a little surprised. Was it over?

      Willa supposed she was excused from the meeting and pushed back her chair.

      “Walk me to the door, Ms. Holmes.” In an official tone, Derek commanded rather than asked for her compliance.

      Izzy appeared bemused by the entire exchange and simply shook her head. “I’m heading back to the deli. I’m sorry for the confusion, Mr. Lopez. Please feel free to order something on the house.” Walking around them all, Izzy was the first out the door, followed swiftly by Roddy, who pushed Gilberto along in front of him, saying they’d take a rain check on the free snacks.

      Now that her burst of adrenaline was spent, Willa felt exhausted all over again and proceeded heavily to the exit. Every movement felt like a Herculean effort. Raising his arm over her, Derek held the door while she passed through. Willa burrowed into her jacket, as she stepped onto a rain-sprinkled sidewalk. By tacit agreement, they walked several paces past the bakery then stopped.

      “Thanks for going to the station last night to give the description of the boy who stole the money.” Not bothered by the cold or the rain, Derek towered above her, six foot plus of straight-backed sheriff. “And for coming back to the bakery this afternoon. I thought it might be easier for everyone if we handled it away from my office. You know, still official, but less intimidating. I anticipated that would make it easier to figure out where we would go from here to help Gilberto.”

      Willa felt Derek studying her, but she kept her tired gaze on the street, watching the occasional car roll past.

      “What I didn’t figure on,” he continued, “was walking away with mud on my face. I didn’t figure on you.”

      She glanced up to see the first hint of anger she’d ever noticed him directing toward her.

      Resting both hands on his gun belt, he shook his head. “I’m a good judge of people. In my line of work, you have to be. But this time, I blew it. I never, ever judged you to be a liar.”

       Chapter Four

      “A liar?”

      Fire-engine red filled Willa’s body, flared in her face. She wouldn’t be surprised if the color poured in jets of steam from her ears. He was calling her a liar?

      Okay, she had lied. But the reason ought to be obvious.

      Her fists were stuffed into the pockets of her thin coat. Pulling one hand out, she jabbed a finger toward the end of the street and stormed off, rounding the corner, not stopping until she reached the alley. “How dare you?” Her voice shook. “I told you I didn’t want to get involved in this, but you had to keep pushing. If you could take no for an answer, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

      The implication of her words hit them both at the same time. He hadn’t accepted her “no” regarding Gilberto, and he hadn’t accepted her “no” regarding the two of them.

      Derek’s face grew stormier. “The problem was already here. If you think anything else, you’re being naïve.”

      Was he talking about Gilberto now or her? Willa pointed toward the bakery. “That man—Roddy,” she said. “He was going to make that poor kid’s life a nightmare.”

      “That ‘poor kid’ is going to make his own life a nightmare if he meets his needs by stealing. Roddy talks big, but he has a record, too. Petty crime is a family affair.”

      “I’m sure there are ways to help Gilberto that don’t involve the law, exactly. His school—”

      “‘The law’ is a set of boundaries designed to establish and maintain order. That’s exactly what Gilberto needs and exactly what he’s not going to get if bleeding hearts make excuses for him.”

      “Bleeding hearts! I can’t believe you said that.” Willa shook her head as if to dislodge his words from her brain. “Life does not respect rules and regulations. Life just happens, and it doesn’t ask your permission before it gets messy, although that might be hard for you to accept, Sheriff. I’ve seen the way you run around town, trying to convince people we’re all characters in a nineteen fifties TV sitcom.”

      “What are you talking about?” The words emerged muffled as Derek’s jaw and lips barely moved.

      “I’m talking about your town meetings and visits to the chamber of commerce and all the other places you go to tell people that as long as they do the right thing, they’ll stay safe and happy and the world will be a better place, now let’s all go have donuts. The end.”

      “I’m sorry you dislike the message that playing by the rules does make the world safer and better. I’ve found it to be true.”

      “Lucky you.”

      Derek’s entire manner was different from anything she had seen before. His body looked stiff enough to break, and Willa sensed she should stop talking, just let it go, but he was so sure of himself, so smug about the world and how it worked, and she couldn’t stay quiet. Especially since he’d called her a bleeding heart. “If you think Gilberto is going to have a better life because I rat him out to his bully of a cousin, then you’re the one who’s naïve, not me.”

      There were no lights in the alley, save for porch lights above the back doors of the businesses along Warm Springs Road, but Willa could see Derek’s expression—closed and distant—and knew he could see hers.

      In the chilly night, her breath came in small, visible puffs. She didn’t feel cold, though. Her face and hands felt hot enough to fry eggs.

      It wasn’t like her to confront and criticize. She wished he’d say something back. Something stubborn and intractable, so she could walk away thinking, See, I knew it. He’s just another lucky-so-far chump who thinks he’s in charge of his fate. Boy, is he in for a shock someday.

      Derek’s granite features changed not one whit as he tipped his head. “Thank you for coming tonight, Ms. Holmes. It’s dark out. Do you need a ride to your house, or are you alright?”

      Willa’s emotions slammed to a roadrunner-like halt. He was the sheriff again, just the sheriff. A lump filled her throat, making it hard to swallow. “I’m fine.”

      “Good night.” With another professionally polite nod, he turned. Willa watched him walk to the end of the alley and round the corner without a backward glance.

      * * *

      Usually, Willa awoke a good half hour before her alarm. Taking a shower before bed, all she had to do prior to heading to work was brush her teeth, comb her hair, pull on jeans, a Something Sweet T-shirt and her work clogs and head out the door. Once again, she’d barely slept at all, however, after the scene with Derek, and on this dark winter morning, she drank black tea and watched the digital clock until it read 2:45 a.m.

      Instantly