Page 8

Chapter 8

Tobias

I remain in my parked pick up, unable to summon the energy to go inside the station. The Hendersons' shattered shop keeps replaying in my mind—blood on antiques, wanton destruction, senseless violence. The needless injury of two older people; there wasn't a need for that. Neither one of them posed any type of threat. Two break-ins in under a week. I can't help but shake the feeling that something's going on and after Michael's bullshit this isn't a feeling I'm willing to ignore.

I punched his contact number out of need more than anything else.

"Tobias, heard there was a break in at the bakery." Law states more than asks.

"Yeah, and today one at the antique shop."

"Fuck," Law's voice tone instantly switches to his work one. "Are they related?"

"I think so." I needed to know what I called about so, I blurted out. "You know anything new about Michael's location?"

Law sighed, which I took as not a good sign.

"No. Well, that's not correct. The ladies have been tracking him but so far the only thing that's been active is his money. There have been charges up and down the Eastern seaboard but our overall feeling is that, unless he's on a sightseeing trip we think he's just blowing smoke up our asses."

"Great." Well, this was no help. I closed my eyes. "I've got the deputies doing routine runs past his addresses, but so far nothing."

"Do you have any reason to believe he's a part of the break-ins?"

"Brother, right now I don't know who's involved. All I know is I have three business owners in the hospital and no answers to the why questions."

"What can we do to help?"

"Find Michael so I can tell the little voice in my head to shut up."

"We're trying, believe me we're trying." Law let out a frustrated sounding breath. "The ladies are pretty convinced he's not in Whispering Pines. Their friend with the satellite allowed them to keep it stationary over the area. They uploaded face recognition software to it with Michael and Mr. Dagger's information. It's constantly scanning for him. We just need them to show their ugly self."

"Keep me posted, will you?"

"Always."

I hung up the call. I know I was grasping at straws but right now, it's the only straw I have. The level of my frustration is enormous, I can't help but think maybe I've been the sheriff too long. Maybe I'm losing my edge. I mean, Michael pulled that shit right under my damn nose. The number of times I was in the same room and could have taken out that maniac, makes me want to punch something. And I knew nothing about it. Nothing. Not one fucking hint of his actions. And now these damn break-ins. And here's me with no clue to who or what's happening with them. Oh yea, some fucking sheriff I am. I closed my eyes and blew out a deep breath.

"That fucking talk isn't helping anybody." I said to no one. Turning my head I looked out over the grass and trees of the lawn next to the station. My thoughts drift to my other failure, Ruth. Her shop could be next. Can I keep her safe? The image of her surrounded by broken glass and blood makes my chest tighten painfully. I should warn her. Send a deputy. Call her. Do something.

But the memory of her lips against mine, her body pressed to the wall of her shop, threatens my resolve. I close my eyes, and suddenly I'm not in my cruiser anymore but back at the Chamber of Commerce picnic three months ago, when everything between us began.

I can hear the noise of chatting people standing in small circles visiting with each other. I smell the aroma of hamburgers on the grill. The shimmer of dusk is just starting to settle in. Walking around, I wander from group to group, smiling and making small talk as I roam. Tonight is the annual Chamber of Business cookout. Business owners from all over Whispering Pines are here. Stepping up onto the concrete floor of the open covered picnic area, I make my way through the tables. Calling out greetings, shaking hands, I weave in and out. A mentor once told me half the job of a sheriff is just being friendly to people.

Looking back now, if I'm honest, I wasn't there to be seen or shake hands, I was there to see if she was. I didn't know if she would be there, but man had I fought with myself all day, in the end I had to see if she would show up. I've chatted small talk with her before, at other events, and she's always stood out to me. Of course, I've seen her around town and in her shop, but it's always been business. Except when I brought her Joey. I could have taken him right to the vet or one of the other businesses in the strip mall, yet something told me to take him to her. I'm glad I did. Her keeping him gave me a reason to stop any time I wanted. Only, I haven't, I guess because I don't know what would happen if I did.

Walking over to the picnic tables on the far side of the open building, I spot her, my forbidden fruit. She's wearing a dark purple dress which brings out the color of her eyes as well as accentuates her full chest. Her copper hair catches the fading sunlight, turning it into a halo of fire around her face. I'm mesmerized by her, she's even prettier in real life than in my thoughts. I've not spoken more than twenty words at a time to her, and yet there's something in her voice that makes me feel alive. She tosses her head back in laughter and her smile is infectious. Realizing that I'm grinning like some college kid about to see his first set of boobs, I quickly change my expression. But not before she sees me. Looking over, she smiles and nods. I return the gesture and force myself to look away, only to be drawn back minutes later by her voice calling out.

"Sheriff Trenton?"

Turning, I see the others who were there a minute ago are now gone. It's just us.

"Sheriff Trenton?" She calls out again.

I take a couple of steps toward her and I'm standing on the opposite side of the picnic table.

"Would you like to have a seat?" Her eyes remind me of bright amber, almost sparkling in the twilight.

"Thank you." I contort myself to fit on the picnic table bench, my knees knocking awkwardly against the underside.

"They aren't very comfortable, are they?" She smiles sympathetically.

"No, not the easiest to get in and out of either. How have you been, Ruth?" Her name feels intimate on my tongue, though I've said it dozens of times in my head.

"Fine, thank you. And you, Sheriff Trenton?" She cocks her head slightly to the right as she waits for my answer.

"We've gone over this, Tobias, please. I'm doing well. Thank you for asking." I sound stiff, even to my own ears.

"Tobias," she repeats, as if tasting the word. The sound of my name on her lips causes the blood to start flowing to body parts I don't need it to flow to right now.

She continues, "I've always thought that was such a masculine name. What does it mean?"

"I had an Uncle Tobias who died in the war after saving a group of civilians. My mother named me after him. But I think it means 'God is good' or something like that." To my surprise, she looks genuinely interested.

"Well, it's a powerful name fitting a powerful, handsome man." A soft smile forms on her lips, "Tobias."

Fuck my dick. There's no stopping the blood flow now, thank God we're sitting down. I've never been so glad to be so uncomfortable in my life. No other woman has had this sort of effect on me since Joan died. I'm not even sure what to do with this. I mean, I've found women attractive over the years, but no woman turned me on just by saying my name. Usually, I just get morning or late night wood. But now, my dick's putting uncomfortable pressure on my jeans, so I shift my weight to my other hip. I'm thankful I went home and changed before coming to this event. My work pants, plus my utility belt and a stiffy, good grief that would be hella uncomfortable. I'm even more grateful I left my t-shirt untucked.

"Do you want a drink?" I see the cart heading toward us.

"I would. A hard cider please, any flavor." She smiles at me.

I waved and ordered our drinks, handing her bottle to her. Our fingers brush as she takes the bottle, and I swear I feel the contact all the way up my arm.

We sit and make small talk. How's her business? Have I always wanted to be a cop? Things like that. When those questions run out, we dive into deeper waters.

"I heard your wife died some time ago?" Ruth leans forward on her arms, her hands peeling the label off one of the cider bottles. She looks sideways at me, as if gauging whether the question is too personal.

"Fifteen years ago. She had cancer, it was very sudden, and she went very quickly." The words come easier than they once did, worn smooth by repetition.

"If I got cancer, that is how I would want to go." She smiles softly, not with pity but understanding.

"To be truthful, me too, although I didn't think that at the time." Ruth reaches over and pats my hand, her touch lingering a moment longer than necessary.

"No, I don't imagine you would have."

We both drink the rest of what's left in our bottles, in companionable silence.

"I like your tattoos," I said looking over at her. "Do you only have them on one leg?"

"So far. I'd like to get both legs but there are only so many kangaroos someone can put on themselves without looking weird."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. "Kangaroos?"

"Yes, I'll show you." She stood and came to my side of the table. Lifting her skirt to show me her leg caused me to have to remind myself to breathe. Ruth showed me a field scene with various kangaroos, one jumping, two looking like they're boxing, two with babies in their pouches and others grazing. "I just love kangaroos. That's why I named Joey, Joey. He's my little kangaroo."

"I never knew that." I looked closely at her leg not because of the ink work but because I just wanted to be close to her leg. "I see what you mean about not wanting too many kangaroos."

"Right? I found myself asking, 'how many kangaroos are too many?' Of course for me there isn't a number. But, I don't want to be known as the kangaroo lady." She looked to the sky. "Or maybe I do?"

"How about just Roo?"

Ruth's head slowly turned toward me. "Roo, what an adorable nickname. I wish I had someone to call me that."

"I can."

"You?" Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

"I came up with it, so I can use it." Our eyes met. "I mean, if you like it."

"Like it? I love it, just love it," she must have realized what she said because her cheeks quickly turned red. She spun around and returned to her side of the table.

We sat looking at each other for a few minutes until I broke the silence, "I know your uncle, he's a nice guy. Do your parents live here too?" I ask, realizing how little I know about her.

"No, both my parents were killed in a car accident. A drunk ran into them. Unfortunately, the drunk was driving a semi, instantly killing them both." There's no self-pity in her voice, just the matter-of-fact tone of someone who's made peace with tragedy.

"Damn. I'm sorry to hear that." Looking at Ruth, I notice a faraway look in her eyes, like she's caught in a memory. "Guess we both have suffered losses."

"Not a club anyone wants to be a part of, and yet one we all get initiated into at some point." Her wisdom catches me off guard. "However, I have to admit the hazing's a bitch."

"Isn't that the truth." I set down my bottle. "I'll be right back." Standing, I head for the bathroom, then to the bar for another round, the whole time thinking about how to shift the conversation to lighter ground.

As I set the drinks down on the table, Ruth giggles.

"Another two? I'm not going to be able to drive home." She laughs. "Shh, don't tell the sheriff, okay?"

I laughed, "We won't tell him, he's kind of an ass anyway. We'll get you an Uber. It'll be our secret." Sitting back down across from her, I watch as Ruth licks her lips as she lifts a bottle to her mouth.

Good Lord woman, have mercy.

"I love secrets." She says, her voice taking on a seductive quality that sends another round heat through my body. I've lost count of how many times I've had a physical reaction to her. "Something only two people know. In the whole big world," she puts her hands out wide, "only two people share it. That's all, only two."

"What if there are more than two in on the secret?" I ask, leaning closer. She slightly sways as she thinks my question over.

"Fine, fine, so something known only to a very tiny group." Laughing, she squeezes her pointer finger and thumb together, then takes a long swig of her drink. "Tell me, Mr. Tobias with a badge, tell me something about you that we can keep a secret between us." She points from me to her and back. "Just us, our secret, the two of us, not a small group." She points from me to her and back. "Let's have it."

Now there's an open invitation if I've ever heard one. A very dangerous invitation, provided I want it to be.

"I have to think. You go first." I put the ball back in her court, not trusting what might come out of my mouth.

"Hmm, I have to think too." Ruth looks off to the left, her chin in her hand. She turns her head back to look at me. "Ok, I got one. You ready? You have to keep this just between us, it's our secret. Promise?"

I nod my head in agreement.

"Ok, lean in here." She leans as far across the table as she can. I mimic her. "Ok, ok, listen up, here's the secret. Not once during intercourse have I ever had an orgasm. Nope, never, not once. The jack-asses I've been with always get off, but I'm left with nothing. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my toys. They do the job and I have quite a few vroom vrooms. But, you tell me, why do guys do that? Get off and not care if we do?" Taking another drink, she sits back and looks at me with anticipation, as if she genuinely wants my answer.

Fuck me! My mouth falls open at her confessional secret. I have to force myself to blink a couple of times to prevent myself from staring at her.

"Never?" My voice squeaks a little and I have to cough, "You've never?" She shakes her head and blinks. "I. Ah. Oh. I. Really? Tell your fast assed boyfriend to slow down." I empty my beer in one gulp, desperately needing the liquid courage.

"Don't have a boyfriend." She shook her head. "Haven't had one in three years, and the last one didn't last more than four dates. Yep, that's right, on date four, he announced that his mom made him pity date me. He said fat girls didn't turn him on so we were through."

Anger flares instantly. "Now that's messed up. He's an idiot, you're beautiful."

"HA! You're drunk." Ruth laughs, but I catch the flash of genuine surprise in her eyes. "Your turn." She leans forward again, "what's your secret?"

Shit, I was hoping she would have forgotten.

Taking in a large breath, I blow it all out in one long stream, stalling for time. I don't know if it's because of the beers—I'm not a big drinker and I've certainly had more than my normal tonight—or because she's so beautiful. Either way, I blurt out:

"Well, since we're sharing, my secret is I haven't slept with another woman since my wife died." There, that's my secret out in the open.

"Not one?" Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You?"

"Not one. No one turned me on until... recently." I stop talking. Taking a drink of my beer, I glance quickly at her.

"Wow, I thought you were going to say it was because you needed a pill or something." She looks at me, but her head is swaying back and forth. "I have to pee. Don't leave. We should talk more about little blue pills when I get back." Ruth stands, smooths down her dress, tosses her hair over her shoulder, heading in the wrong direction.

I reach out, grabbing her right above her left wrist.

"Huh?" She looks down at my hand, blinking. "Hi!"

"The bathrooms are that way." I point behind her as I move her wrist toward the right direction. "Turn around."

"Oh, when did they move them? Should leave them in place during an event. Otherwise, people can't find them." Her indignation is adorable.

Ruth turns around and heads for the bathrooms. I know how she's feeling. My head is going to hurt tomorrow. We probably should have eaten when the food was offered, but we were deep in conversation about my military years, and neither of us seemed to want to interrupt the flow. Hindsight: I should have insisted we eat.

Ruth comes back to the table, giggling the entire way.

"Did you see? Almost everyone is gone. Poof." She raises her hands, spreads her fingers, and makes a blowing up gesture. "Poof, gone." She sits down next to me on the same side of the bench. "Hey, did I tell you my secret?"

"Yes, you said your men have been bad in bed." I smile at her.

"No, not that secret, silly. My ooother secret, are you istenin?" She leans on my arm, bringing her hand under my arm so her fingers are around the top of my bicep. "Dang, strong." She pokes the muscle.

I tighten it, just to show off a little.

"Wow," she pushes on my arm with her finger. "I like a man with arms."

"That's your secret? You like men with arms? Well that gives you quite a few to pick from." I can't help but laugh, which she joins in on.

"No, no, no, I do like a guy with arms and muscles in his arms but." She puts her index finger to her mouth. "Shh, this is a secret. Promise not to tell?"

"I promise. That's what secrets are, not telling." I find myself leaning closer, drawn to her warmth.

The last of the other group that stuck it out tonight stands to leave when a van with an Uber sign in the window pulls into the parking lot. We exchange good nights. Then it is just Ruth and me, alone.

"I was going to tell you something, I think." She places her head on my shoulder.

"You were going to tell me your secret." I finished off my last beer.

"I was. Did you promise not to tell?"

"I did, even crossed my heart." I make the motion.

"Aww, you crossed your heart for me? That's so sweet, I would do the same for you I promise." She lays her head on my shoulder, her hand lazily tracing the vein in my arm. "I'm glad I told you my secret because it's true. I do think you are sexy, I have for a while now. I sees you and I think, now there is one sexy ass man. And in that uniform? Woof! Makes me melt."

I freeze in my seat. She thinks I'm sexy?

"And," she continues. "And, and, I've wanted to get to talk with you, but you were always so, so proper. I didn't want to not be proper. But I don't want to be proper with you."

As I turn my head, she raises her head off my arm. Our faces are inches apart.

"You think I'm sexy?" She closes her eyes and nods her head up and down.

When she opens her eyes again, I close the distance between our lips. Kissing her hard, she immediately opens her mouth, and our drunk tongues meet. I know I shouldn't, since we're both under the influence, but I can't stop myself. We sit there and kiss for what seems like hours, her hands tentatively exploring my chest, mine tangled in her copper hair. When we finally end the kiss she puts her head back on my shoulder.

"I feel like I've been kissing you for years. I like it." She yawns. "I'm tired."

Pulling out my phone, I use the app and request a ride. I'm told one will be there in five minutes.

"Come on, I have a car coming." After a couple of clumsy attempts, we stand.

"Where are we going? Wait, am I under arrest?" Ruth glares at me with mock suspicion.

"What? No, I called an Uber to give us a ride." I kiss the top of her head.

"Well, ok then." She giggles as she wraps an arm around me. "Did I ever tell you I thought you were sexy, 'cause I do."

"You did mention it, yes." We kissed again. Her body melding perfectly to mine.

"Hey, I had a birthday a couple of months ago. Why didn't you come to it? My thirty-fifth birthday."

If it's possible to instantly sober up, I feel like I just did. Doing the math quickly in my head means I am way older than her.

I can't be with someone who's that much younger than me. What will people say? What will my son say? Shit back in the day they could have dated. I'm the Sheriff. I can't be with someone so young. Don't do anything now. Both of you have had too much to drink. And you don't need an emotional scene. Maybe tomorrow she won't remember what happened.

The Uber car pulls into the parking lot, and I wave it over. After wrestling with the seatbelt, Ruth puts her head on my shoulder again. She gives her address. I'm closer than her, but I want to make sure in her state she makes it into her home.

"If you stay awake, I'll tell you another secret." I tell her, hoping she perks up.

"If it's that you are sexy, I already know that secret." Ruth sits up and looks at me. "Did you know that?"

"I did. You told me, remember?"

"Nope, I don't. Did you tell me I'm sexy?" She flops her head over and blinks in rapid succession.

"I am now. I think you're amazing." My hand runs through her hair, pushing a strand behind her ear. She closes her eyes and leans her face into my hand.

"OK, but don't tell the sheriff." Her conspiratorial whisper makes me smile.

Chuckling, I can't help but ask, "Why not?"

"Because, silly, I think he is hot, and I don't want to get arrested, because then he won't like me." She's still nuzzling my hand, moaning as she kisses it.

Hearing her moan, my betrayer of a dick swells again.

Reaching Ruth's house, I beg the driver to stay as I help her out of the car. She is half asleep, leaning on me as we walk over to her front door.

"No, back door. Can't get in here." She pulls us down the driveway. Opening the fence gate, I maneuver us through. Trying the back door, it's locked.

"Ruth, where is your house key?" I ask, noticing for the first time that she doesn't have a purse.

"The frog has it."

"What the hell does that mean?" I give her a little shake, "Ruth, where is your house key?"

"The frog has it." She points to the ground. There, on the ground by the door, is a planter with a large frog under a lily pad umbrella. I lean Ruth against the side of the glass door.

Looking over the planter, I don't see the key. I then move it and bingo! The key is laying on the concrete. Unlocking the door, I replaced the key.

"Ruth, where is Joey?" I'm worried the dog hasn't come running to greet us.

"Sleepin' with Auntie." Ruth mumbles. Her eyes are closed, and I'm sure I'm fighting the clock to get her inside before she passes out.

Using my foot to open the door wider, I lean her on me and step into her place. From the light outside, I can make out a large sectional in the corner opposite us. I head to it, half helping Ruth, half pulling her along. When we are almost there, she opens her eyes and sees it.

"I love my sofa." She flings herself onto it, her eyes close, and she is out. I take a moment to look at her, peaceful in sleep, hair fanned across a cushion. Gently, I lift her legs onto the couch and pull the throw blanket from the back to cover her.

I find myself reluctant to leave, wanting to make sure she's safe. Checking the house quickly, I fill a glass with water and find some aspirin in the kitchen, leaving both on the coffee table for when she wakes. Before I go, I write a quick note: "You're safe. Call me if you need anything. – Tobias"

Back in the Uber I feel like I've dodged a bullet, fifteen years. What would people say.

My phone buzzes again, jarring me back to the present. Holly is asking why I'm still sitting in the parking lot.

Three months since that night, and I haven't been able to get Ruth out of my mind. We never discussed it afterward—she was embarrassed, I was conflicted. Then came our charged encounter at her shop, and now Michael's escape and these break-ins.

I stare at the station building, my decision crystallizing. I can't send a deputy to warn Ruth about security. This is too important—she is too important, regardless of what my rules say. I'll go myself tomorrow morning. Just to talk about security systems, I tell myself.

Nothing more.