LITMIR.BIZ

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then blurted out, “I can’t read, okay?” His gaze lifted to her.

      “Whoa,” Jaxon said, but Sylvie warned her son with a shake of her head before he could say more.

      “You should have just said so,” she said to Ian.

      “I try to avoid being ridiculed whenever possible.” He looked away. “I have dyslexia. Words and letters make no sense to me. They’re all one big wavy line, moving around the page.”

      “We won’t ridicule, right, Jaxon?” Sylvie said.

      “No, man. I get enough of that at school to know it stinks.” Jaxon reached for the clipboard. “I can help you fill it out.”

      Sylvie’s heart swelled with pride to see her son jump in to help a complete stranger with no judgment. But she did wonder what her son meant by experiencing enough ridicule at school. He hadn’t mentioned anything to her before about it. And it couldn’t be for his academics. The boy excelled in every subject.

      Sylvie’s cell beeped with one of her lieutenants calling her. “Excuse me for a second,” she told the boys, but they didn’t seem to notice she’d said anything. The two were laughing about something Ian said was a ridiculous question on the sheet. She walked behind the curtain. “Preston, I’m glad you’re calling. I have a nonresident who’s been shot today. I need to get a report going.”

      “A GSW? Drug related?”

      Sylvie glanced at the closed curtain. “Possibly. The victim hasn’t given me much to go on, other than blaming it on the Spencers. I’m thinking he’s hard up for money, maybe owes someone. They retaliated by pulling the trigger. Anyway, I have the bullet. I’m bringing it in. I’ll need you to run ballistics.”

      “Got it.”

      “So, you called me. What do you need?”

      “Nothing so full of grandeur. Just that I think I’m right about Smitty and Reggie. I found a business card for an ecologist specializing in salt contamination in Smitty’s desk. You know I think Officer Smith has been instigating the picketers over at the salt shed. He wants Reggie back as chief.” A recent wave of protesters had sprouted up in town, vocalizing their disapproval about the state of the shed that stored the season’s road salt.

      “Reggie is retired from the force and doesn’t want to come back. Trust me. I’ll talk to the people over at the shed. I realize they’re worried about contamination of the river, but this is going to have to wait until I get home. Maybe even after Christmas. My son is injured.”

      “Is Jaxon all right? I heard that he was going to be okay.”

      “He is. But his leg is broken.”

      “Should I come down?”

      “Thanks, Preston, that’s nice of you to offer, but I need you holding down the fort.”

      I should be back in Norcastle in a few hours.”

      “What about Smitty and Reggie?”

      “Like I said, Reggie is retired and Smitty will be up for retirement this year. I’m not worried that they want my job. They’ve been on the force for over thirty years, and I think I have shown them they can pass the baton. My probation period will be up in two months, and the town council will approve my position as permanent. I need you to stop worrying and just follow my orders.”

      Preston huffed. “Right. Hold down the fort. It’s all you think I’m good for. I know others who would disagree.”

      The line went dead. Great, another ego she would have to console.

      After Christmas.

      Sylvie turned on her heel and plowed right into Ian’s wide, very hard chest. The guy did some manual labor for sure.

      “Is everything all right?” he asked. His piercing gaze saw too much...and sent a tingle up her spine.

      The effect baffled her.

      “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Her voice squeaked.

      Her voice never squeaked.

      She gave orders like a drill sergeant. Deep, loud, so there was no mistaking the fact that she was in charge. She snatched the clipboard from his hand.

      Ian Stone

      Construction worker for Sarno Construction

      Pasadena, CA.

      “Pasadena, huh? I thought money was an issue for you.”

      “It’s temporary. I live in a trailer on the construction site my boss is working on. We’re building a development. Homes that I will never sleep one night in. I just build them and move on.”

      She eyed him over the clipboard. Maybe Ian Stone was moving on to other ventures. Like setting up shop in Norcastle to sell drugs.

      If that was the case, he would quickly learn he’d picked the wrong town to target.

      And the wrong cop to dupe.

      * * *

      “I don’t need a shadow,” Ian stated against Sylvie’s plan for security detail. He pulled on his coat slowly. “I just need a ride back to my apartment.”

      She glanced her son’s way. “The doctor wants you to stay the night. Do you mind if I leave for a while to bring Ian to the station? I want to keep an eye on him to make sure no other bullets find their way into him. You okay with me leaving, Jax?”

      “No, but since when does that matter?”

      “Jaxon, we made a pact. Remember? I accepted the chief position, but only because we understood the sacrifices would be on both of us. A team.”

      Jaxon shrugged. “Yeah, I know what we said. It’s just...”

      “Just what?”

      Jaxon avoided his mother’s questioning gaze. “Never mind. It’s nothing. Just go. I’m tired anyway. I’m just going to go to sleep.”

      Sylvie hesitated at her son’s brush-off. Ian thought her frown expressed a bit of sadness about something going on between the two of them. But she quickly snapped back to her stoic self and patted Jaxon’s good leg. Whatever it was wouldn’t be hashed out tonight. “Okay, kiddo, they’re getting a room ready for you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

      Sylvie turned to Ian. “Stay by me.” She took the lead and Ian gave a single wave to her son.

      “Bye, Ian.”

      “Take care of my player, kid. It’s my window to the world.”

      At the exit they stepped out into the freezing night. Sylvie held an arm up to survey the parking lot. “Looks clear.”

      Ian stifled a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She was protecting him?

      If nothing else, Ian had to think Sylvie took her job seriously. He had to figure his previous concern to trust her had been unwarranted.

      Still his lips remained sealed.

      But so did hers. Something weighed on her mind, if her chewed-up lower lip was any indication.

      It wasn’t until they made it to the interstate that Sylvie broke the void. “All right, I want to know why you’re in town, and I want the truth. Are you here to sell drugs?”

      Now he did laugh. “What? Drugs?”

      “I want to help you, Ian. Please let me.”

      He sobered. How many times in his life had he hoped to hear those very words? Hearing them now put him in uncharted waters. What would happen if he accepted the offer?

      He decided to trust her and find out.

      “No drugs. But I am here for my cut.”

      “Cut of what? Somebody owe you something?”

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