This Hero for Hire. Cynthia Thomason

      Boone dismissed the ambulance and went to his vehicle to get the standard incident report and a clipboard. When he returned, he said, “These birds are the property of Mr. Sam Jonas, and his driver here, Hank, was just doing his job.”

      Hank pounded his fist into his opposite hand. “And someone’s got to pay for the loss of income this crazy woman caused today.”

      “Maybe you should start by explaining to your employer that you can’t drive a truck!” she said.

      Hank stepped forward, and Boone placed his palm on the man’s chest. “Let’s all calm down now. We’re obviously not going to get those chickens back.”

      “Then do your job and arrest this woman,” Hank said.

      “I intend to.”

      “What?” The woman crossed her feather-covered arms over her chest and glared at him. “This would have been a massacre if I hadn’t come along when I did.”

      Boone didn’t quite consider the loss of a few chickens going to slaughter as a definitive example of a massacre, but he knew better than to say that out loud.

      “You caused a loss to one of our citizens, ma’am,” he said. “Hank’s right that someone’s got to pay, either for the loss of his chickens or by spending some time in jail—or both.” He swept his arm toward his squad car. “Sooo...if you’ll just follow me.”

      “You’re taking me to jail?”

      “For now, yes, I am.”

      “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She looked across the road, where the large, weathered SUV was parked. “What about my car?”

      “I’ll make sure it’s towed into town,” Boone said. “And I’ll call another tow to get you out of the ditch, Hank.”

      He scratched the SUV’s license plate number on his report and stopped short. He hadn’t been wrong. The blond hair, the voice, the governor’s mention of Oregon. This day was only getting worse. “You’re from Oregon?” he said.

      “Yes, so?”

      “What’s your name?”

      “Susannah Rhodes. Does the name Rhodes mean anything to you, Officer?”

      Did it ever. It meant he had to tell this woman’s father that he’d put his worrisome little princess, covered in chicken dung, in jail. But on the other hand, it also meant he might have found a way out of this ridiculous assignment. Surely Albee wouldn’t want him for this detail now.

       CHAPTER TWO

      THIS WAS INCREDIBLY not good. Sitting in the police cruiser with the so far nice but ultra lawful police officer, Susannah could almost hear her father’s voice. “In town less than an hour and already you’re in the back of a police car.”

      It would be impossible to keep him from hearing about this incident. The Chief of Police would call him even if she didn’t. And there was no way to keep him from being disappointed in her—again. She was going to jail for destruction of property! Whereas she believed she deserved a medal for humanitarian actions. Well maybe not that exactly, but the simple truth was, she didn’t have time for jail.

      She stared out the window at the Georgia farmland. Green, lush meadows and fields, animals grazing peacefully on hillsides under towering oaks and fragrant magnolias. Seventeen years ago she couldn’t wait to leave a place where no one seemed to want her. In the past few days, though, she’d actually been looking forward to coming back.

      Not that she expected her relationship with her dad to be a quick fix. During her infrequent weekend visits over the years she and her father had been like strangers, each frightened of saying the wrong thing. They had too much history between them, too many times in her youth when he’d confronted her with that scowl on his face.

      But helping on his campaign could be the start of healing old resentments. As long as he didn’t find out her other motive for returning to Georgia. And as long as he realized she wasn’t the same girl who’d left all those years ago.

      “Are you okay?”

      She snapped her attention to the back of the officer’s head. So he’d decided to speak to her in a tone far more mellow than his official one. Okay. Perhaps conversation would make the man feel more lenient toward her.

      “I’d like to put the window down if that’s all right,” she said.

      His alert eyes, so mesmerizingly green that she could see the color in the rearview mirror, stared at her. “Sorry. Those windows must be kept locked at all times. Safety regulations.”

      “For whom? If you’re concerned for my safety, then roll them down. As you pointed out, I’m giving off a rather noxious odor, and I’m about to asphyxiate.”

      He considered his answer for a moment. “Okay, I guess I can roll one of them down, the one opposite from where you’re sitting. By the way, those chickens were escaping at top speed, so how did you manage to get so covered by feathers and...other things?”

      “Chickens molt when they’re scared, and these were terrified. They didn’t know I was letting them loose. They just reacted to a human.”

      Blessed fresh air rushed in the open window, and Susannah took a deep breath. “That’s better. Thanks. And, by the way, in case I didn’t say it, thank you for not handcuffing my wrists together. I feel a bit anxious in situations of confinement.”

      “No problem. You’ve been handcuffed before?” he asked.

      Well, there was that one time back in college during the sit-in, but she didn’t need to tell him that. “I just know I wouldn’t like it.”

      He smiled. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

      “A girl’s got to have her secrets,” she said. “And I appreciate you letting me get my purse from the Suburban and locking the vehicle. I have lots of supplies in the back and it would be a shame if they were stolen.”

      He nodded. “Yeah, it’s not good to steal someone else’s property.”

      Another jab at the chicken incident. She began plucking feathers off her clothes, careful not to get crusty bits of chicken poop under her fingernails. When she tried blowing the feathers out the window, they only sailed back at her face. So she began making a pile of down next to her on the seat. “Are you going to put me in a cell?” she asked after a moment.

      “We have paperwork to do first. And I’ll give you a chance to clean up in the ladies’ room. After that, it’s a real possibility. You might want to contact an attorney. I know Sam Jonas, and I’m betting he will file criminal charges.”

      “Great. You should know I’m not a habitual lawbreaker.”

      “I didn’t think you were. And if you don’t have a criminal record, you should be able to post bail pretty quickly, I imagine.”

      “I just have a hard time not reacting when I see unethical treatment of animals.”

      His eyes cut to her again. “You one of those animal activists?”

      “I believe in the fair treatment of all animals, yes. But I don’t consider it my life’s mission. I’m a nonviolent person. I don’t throw paint on fur coats or anything.”

      He didn’t comment, so she tried a different subject. “I used to live here, you know.”

      “Yes, I remember you. We were in high school at the same time.”

      She leaned forward and slipped her fingertips through the metal mesh separating the front seat from the back. “Really? I only went to Mount Union High my sophomore year. I went away to school after that.”

      She studied what she