Page 14 of Love on the Run

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After talking to Ty and getting his desk in order, Jake walked back out to the truck and headed out to complete his rounds. It was his responsibility to patrol the rural streets as well as the county roads, and there was a lot of ground to cover. He’s been halfway through his usual rounds last night when he found Callie, so he decided to drive his route backwards tonight in order to cover what he had missed.

He drove through the spectacular Montana scenery without noticing it, his mind stuck on Callie’s story. It troubled him. Not that he didn’t believe Callie. Not exactly. But her story was a very tidy one. And he’d been trained to be skeptical about stories.

What Callie couldn’t know was that Jake wasn’t just a county cop. He’d been in the military for years, and then the US Marshals, before he abruptly turned his back on his whole life three years ago and moved back to his home state. He didn’t regret his decision, just the events that had lead him to it. But his unusual past meant that he had the training to assess stories like hers, and he knew plenty of people in a position to help him figure out exactly what details were true or not.

His route led him through Hazelton proper first. The streets were already quiet, but all the houses were lit from within, spilling gold out from dining room windows, or letting the flickering blue of a television screen beam out onto the front lawns. He drove slowly, scanning the whole scene with a practiced eye. Hazelton was a sweet little place. As a boy, he had felt confined by it, the small-town customs and old-fashioned sensibility which were totally at odds with what he saw on TV. Despite his friends and family all being there, Jake knew that he had to get out of Montana, at least for a while. The Army was the natural choice, especially as it let him go to college and then join the Marshals when he was ready to move on.

Jake’s eyes fell on the high school building near the east side of town. He tipped his head, listening. A long scraping sound and then a clatter; some boys must be skateboarding on the playground. He pulled over, then got out of the truck, heading toward the back of the school. He wasn’t trying to be sneaky, but he still made one of the kids jump in fright when he rounded the corner.

“Jeez!” a girl with two long blond braids yelled. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“Hey,” she called to her friends. “It’s the Man!” Then she turned back to him. “We’re being careful, Sheriff Brand. Honest.”

“I believe you,” Jake responded. “Though you all seem a little light on helmets.”

“Helmets are totally lame looking.”

“So are spattered brains all over the asphalt.” He nodded to the others. “Let’s go. What’s your name again?”

“Hayley,” she tossed her braids back as they walked toward the others, all boys. Jake knew most of them.

“You’re not going to make us go home, are you?” one of them said, in a voice close to a whine.

“You all have two choices. You can stay here if you put on the helmets that your mothers all bought you.” He jerked his head toward the pile of despised headgear. “Or you can go home.”

“Aw, man. The helmet’s dorky.”

“Mine slips,” another said, even as he grabbed his helmet. “Mom bought one that was too big.”

“Can’t you swap with someone?”

“Eww,” Hayley protested. “It’s got Cody’s sweat all over it!”

“I guess you’re out of the swapping, then,” Jake said reasonably. “Come on, get them on.”

“We’re just going to take them off again when you leave,” she muttered.

“I wish you hadn’t told me that,” said Jake. “Now I’m going to have to come back every hour, just to check on you. And if I see any of you without dorky headgear, you’ll get your board confiscated for a week.”

A chorus of groans greeted this announcement, but the kids all made a show of putting on the helmets. Jake put on his serious face and headed back to the truck, knowing they were watching. It was already nine o’clock, and most of the kids would be gone by ten or ten thirty. He had no intention of rechecking anyway. But he felt the threat was a good one. Kids were easy to work with. If only everyone was.

Once he got on the road again, though, his mind turned back to the more puzzling problem of Calista. Something about her story, about her, needled his brain. He didn’t know what it was, but it would bother him until he could put his finger on it. Jake knew that he didn’t necessarily have a lot of time, either. Callie would be better in a day or two, and then she’d be gone. He might never know what her real story was.

He shook his head. God, he was worrying way too much about this girl. She was a mirage, here one day and gone the next. It wasn’t his job to get involved with other people’s lives. Well, he amended, he was a cop, so that actually was his job. But that still didn’t explain why he was so curious about Callie.

Maybe it was her kiss, he thought, and promptly felt his body tighten in response. Forget about it, he advised himself. It was meaningless. She didn’t even know she did it. But, damn, for a second he wished she had meant it.

The sudden rush of a passing car, going far too fast, was a welcome distraction. Jake immediately hit the siren, glad of the new focus.

* * * *

The TV had over 500 channels, but Callie wasn’t interested in a single one of them. She sat on the living room couch, with Bruiser curled up at her feet. She idly flicked the remote, hoping for something that would distract her, or help put her to sleep for good.

She had tried to go to bed, but her schedule was way off, and she couldn’t close her eyes without summoning the image of the murdered man. It must have been the drug she’d been given by the doctor that let her sleep so deeply last night, because she now felt grit in her eyes. She wished desperately for some kind of oblivion. Bruiser’s presence helped a bit. Something about his doggish nature was naturally soothing, or perhaps it was simply that he could ask her no questions. It made Callie wish she had a dog of her own. Her lifestyle in California made owning a dog out of the question. But she knew her old life was a thing of the past now. Malcolm would make sure of that.

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