Page 14 of False Start

“Damn, yes,” Gerald said, flicking off his cap and scratching his head before dropping the hat back on. “My drill sergeants were nicer than you.”

“Yeah, well, they had weapons to keep you in line. All I have is fear.”

“Back in my day a woman used her feminine wiles to get what she wanted.”

“Back in your day, women couldn’t have credit cards without their husband’s signatures.” I rounded the counter, two coffees perched on my tray, and stopped between the two men, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks. “Now, be good while mama’s away.”

CAIN

Mayhem made damn good coffee.Strong, but not bitter. Nope. She saved the bitterness for the hostile glare she shot me when she set my plate of food in front of me.

Glancing over my shoulder as she left, I caught sight of Gerald creeping his hand toward Milton’s second helping of bacon. “God, some shit never changes. You got your cuffs ready?”

Sheriff Chase grinned. “Won’t need ’em.”

“If Milton catches him, Gerald’s going to be sporting a fork in his hand as a new accessory.”

“They’ll mind. Just watch,” the sheriff said, jutting his chin in their direction.

She had her back to them now, leaning against the counter, remote in hand, bringing up the local news. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she darted out her hand and caught Gerald’s as he crept in on Milton’s bacon.

“I know five-year-olds who have better manners than you,” she snapped.

Gerald shook his head with disgust. “Nasty little buggers. Pick their noses and eat it.”

“Yes,” she hummed in a sweet tone, “and what does that tell you?”

The sheriff chuckled as she slapped down the morning paper in front of Gerald. “I’ve got a juicy story for you on the front cover. Defense spending cut again. It’ll give you something to bitch about until your food’s done.”

A smile crept over my face again as I turned to face my mentor.

“I told you. She’s good with those two, not that she’d ever admit it. Tried to compliment her once and she got this pained look on her face. I swear she’d rather eat mud than have someone give her any sort of praise.”

“I don’t remember her. I guess she’s not local,” I said, feeling him out for information while I dug into my omelet.

“Not local. You were still in town when they arrived though,” he said, pointing at me with his fork, the sausage link bobbing on the end of it. “You might remember. Her mama was Daisy Flynn.”

“She had some sort of medical emergency, right? They didn’t get to her in time.”

“Something like that,” he said, lowering his voice, his eyes on the counter. “They found her slumped by the doors of the health center. Figured she must have been waiting for them to open, but it was too late. Diabetic coma. She died three days later.”

It happened on my first day back in town after my team won their first semi-final in Portland. But I still had two days off before I went back to work. By the time I’d clocked back in, the situation had been handled.

“Where’s her father?”

“Never could find him. Maisy doesn’t even know his name, so that didn’t help.”

“Other family?” I took a bite of the thick toast slathered with butter. Shit, I missed the food here. Not that Boston didn’t have good food, but good food meant crowds.

“None that we could find. They only landed here because this is where Daisy’s car broke down. She got a job over at the Beacon Motel and they gave her and Maisy a room to live in as part of her pay.”

Just a kid sleeping in a hole in the wall motel while her mom slipped away. Her mother probably hadn't woken her up to tell her she was running out.

The toast lost its appeal and I tossed it on my plate. “Where did she go after?”

“Where they all go at that age. Bay Wilderness.”

My jaw clenched so hard my temples throbbed with it. “But that’s for troubled youth.”

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