The Soldier's Valentine. Pamela Tracy

the juniper or feeling the faint pain in his thigh where a piece of shrapnel had carved a quarter-sized hole.

      Theirs had been the house with the best yard. He’d grown up playing kickball, dodgeball and hide-and-seek, until his father had disappeared and hide-and-seek became a term his mother used disparagingly.

      “Hey!”

      The word wasn’t directed at him, but it was loud enough to get Gary’s attention. Goober’s ears perked up. Wilma was too busy investigating a patch of grass to notice.

      Two boys tumbled from a house about four lots away from where he stood. The older one clutched a football. Squaring off in the front yard, they began tossing. Within a minute, Gary could see that the taller one clearly had skill but no patience with the younger one, who seemed better at chasing the ball than catching it. The younger boy also had zero control when throwing.

      “Hey!” The word became the chant of the older one as he got more and more frustrated.

      Gary smiled. This could have been a scene from his childhood. He and Oscar with their younger brother, Hector, who’d always been more brainy than brawny.

      “Hey!” Not a chance was the older boy going to get a workout. He seemed to know it, and his cheeks went slightly red even as his lips pressed together in ire. “I might as well be playing with a girl,” he finally spat.

      Gary almost laughed. His sister, Anna, ran faster than big brother Oscar, threw farther than baby brother Hector and caught better than Gary—not that he’d ever admit the defect.

      “I’m telling Mom,” the little guy croaked.

      “No need,” said a familiar voice.

      What? Did the woman have a beacon that drew him to her? Gary watched as Leann stepped out from the front door. Her hair was longer than he’d thought, and a bit redder, like mahogany. He moved off the sidewalk and onto grass where he watched from a safe distance, somewhat hidden by a tree. Goober obediently sat at his feet. Wilma pulled at the leash, heading toward Leann and her sons. Not a chance. Gary liked where he was, what he was watching.

      The older boy made a strange hissing sound. Gary recognized it. It was the sound of a youngster who knew he was about to be bested and didn’t like it one bit.

      “You don’t count, Mom,” the kid said. “You’re a cop. That means you can throw a football.”

      “I could throw a football long before I became a cop,” Leann responded. “And, I’ve never, not once, thrown a football at a criminal.”

      Gary had a sudden image of Leann throwing a football at some punk running away from a convenience store robbery.

      “I have, however,” Leann said, “thrown footballs at my boys. Both of them!” With that, she snagged the football from the younger boy’s hands and spiraled it to the older boy, who jumped, managed to get his hands almost on the sides but lost his grip.

      “Ha!” Leann said.

      “Ha,” the younger boy echoed.

      For the next few minutes, the front yard was filled with the younger boy tripping over his feet; the older boy scrambling, trying to catch easily and throw fiercely; and his mother not giving an inch until finally when the ball landed in a neighbor’s yard. All three of them charged for it and fell in a heap, laughing, until the younger boy’s hand shot in the air, ball carefully balanced.

      Goober let out a low whine expressing her desire to inch closer, get to know them, play. Gary understood. He wanted to join in the fray, too.

      What was it his aunt had said? Oh, yeah, that Leann had a story worth telling.

      Gary turned and walked away. He knew all about stories, especially the kind his aunt read. She still believed in happily-ever-after. He wanted to, thought maybe his brother Oscar had managed to find it, but Gary too vividly remembered his mother’s love story, which ended with his father walking off the page. Never returning.

      Aunt Bianca believed Gary could actually find out what happened to his father. Maybe that’s what he should focus on because he sure didn’t need to be focusing on single mother Leann Bailey, who was all I-can-out-football-you-and-look-great-doing-it.

      She was all about stability; he was all about just making it from one day to the next.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      “HE FILED HIS PAPERWORK.”

      Leann didn’t let her steps falter or her face register surprise when Oscar Guzman made the announcement the moment she entered the station late Thursday afternoon.

      “When?” she asked.

      “Yesterday at the close of his shift.”

      Leann knew Lieutenant Lucas Stillwater had been on duty until almost midnight because of an automobile accident with serious injuries.

      “Chief Riley say anything yet about it?”

      “No.”

      She and Oscar looked at each other, something vaguely different in the air. Just yesterday, they’d been contemporaries looking toward the future when they both would want the same promotion. Now, they were competitors, each wanting—no, needing—the same job.

      “Thanks for letting me know,” she said.

      Oscar nodded.

      Leann headed for the restroom, where she checked her hair and uniform. She was the first female cop in Sarasota Falls’ history. She had to shine because she not only wanted to prove herself, but she also hoped to pave the way for the next female officer.

      Her years on the force had been an uphill battle that she’d won! Was still winning.

      Next, she sat at her desk, logging onto her computer while also listening to the messages on her phone. They were brief and unimportant. She spent a few moments reading the two priority calls—nothing pending. Oscar, who managed to get to work ten minutes before shift began, filled her in on a malicious destruction of property incident.

      Preliminary work done, she stood and headed for the cruiser. She checked the backseat and trunk before finally sliding behind the wheel ready to start her shift.

      The malicious destruction of property had to do with a woman Leann knew through her youngest son. Just one more happily-ever-after that wasn’t going to happen. The divorce had finalized yesterday, and the husband wasn’t taking it well.

      Once again, Leann sent up a quick thank-you prayer that for the majority of her children’s growing-up years, her husband had been across the ocean.

      That was all about to change, and in two hours she’d be sitting across from her lawyer and finding out the changes her ex-husband wanted since he was moving back to Sarasota Falls.

      The car in front of her ran the red light at Main. She hit the siren and then issued a warning to the driver. Leann then drove to the high school and cruised the parking lot. Following that, she did a wellness check on Sarasota Falls’ oldest resident, who lived alone and who sometimes forgot to go grocery shopping. After ascertaining the lady was keeping company with a bowl of cereal and watching a rerun of Judge Judy on TV, Leann called in a seven and headed for City Hall for her appointment at the law office of Fred Balliard.

      Swallowing, she made herself rethink “her” boys and changed it to “their” boys. Ryan, at first, had paid a bit more child support because she’d returned to Sarasota Falls without a college diploma or much work experience. When she’d made it through the academy and was hired by the police department, his support had lessened. He’d also tried to get his payments down by claiming his parents were acting on his behalf and shared custody.

      Now he was exiting out, wanting to negotiate the future and share custody. Leann was worried about losing child support. She really needed the lieutenant position.

      She