Page 59 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
“Yeah. Proud of Roe for hiking the whole thing,” he said.
“She’s getting so big. Feels like yesterday she was just starting to walk.” Before I could get all weepy thinking about my baby girl growing up, I changed the subject. “Are you doing okay? It’s been a tough week, Sheriff.”
On Tuesday night, someone had come to the station and slashed the tires on all of the cruisers. Granted, most of the deputies took their cars home with them, but the three extras left in the back parking lot had been hit. Twelve shredded tires.
Jess had been furious. He’d watched the security camera footage a hundred times and still couldn’t make out the bastard that did it. Whoever it was had known exactly where the cameras were. After slashing the last tire, he’d walked up to the camera, given it a mock salute, flipped it the middle finger and bowed.
Someone was taunting Jess. He assumed it was Wes, and I was sure he was right. But his hands were tied without proof.
“I needed tonight, baby. Some time away from the station to clear my head. To see my girls. It helped out. It’s been a shit couple of weeks. Feels like I’m getting nowhere and losing control of my town.”
Resting my chin on his chest, I stared into his blue eyes. “You’ll get to the bottom of it. I know you will. It just might take some time.”
“Yeah,” he responded, not sounding like he believed me.
“And we’ll be here whenever you need another getaway. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, stroking the side of my hair.
I dropped my head back onto his shoulder and twisted my legs so they were entwined with his.
“Night, honey,” I whispered.
“Night, Freckles.”
Jess was so exhausted he fell asleep before me.
Before I drifted off, I decided to start a new Friday rotation until it snowed. One week at the café. The next on a hike, enjoying the beauty of Montana and the comfort of our little unit.
Jess
“Sheriff Cleary,” I answered my desk phone.
“Jess. Frank down here at Pawn One. Think you’d better come down here right now. I got a kid in my shop trying to sell me some jewelry that I recognize from Big Sky Jewelry.”
“Be right there,” I said and raced to Prescott’s one and only pawnshop.
The kid in the shop was probably sixteen or seventeen. He stood at the counter, looking over a gold coin collection locked in a display case. Next to him was a small stack of silver. At an initial glance, I recognized one of the bracelets that the jewelry store owner had described in her list of stolen articles.
I walked up behind the kid and slapped one hand on his shoulder, causing him to spin around with wide eyes.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered.
“Yeah. I think you’d better start explaining what you’re doing with that jewelry, kid.”
“I, ah, was just . . .” he stammered.
“You were just trying to sell a handful of stolen silver. Time to take a trip to the station. We’ll call your parents when we get there,” I said, reaching for my cuffs.
Hours later, the kid had confessed and been released to his parents. I had just sent the preliminary report to the county attorney and tomorrow, the court would decide his punishment.
“Hey, boss. You got a minute?” Sam asked from my office doorway.
“Anytime, old man. Come on in.” I was packing up for the day but stopped to sit so Sam would take a load off too.
He slumped in a chair across from my desk.
“Appreciate you sitting in there with me today. Know long hours in those damn metal chairs are hard on your back,” I said.
