Read Online The Honeymoon Cottage (A Pajaro Bay Romance) by Barbara Cool Lee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Cool Lee
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in the road.
~*~
Chapter 4
The county sheriff department's substation was just a little place in the center of town, tucked between Santos' Market and the modern art gallery. This month Santos' front window was advertising red fishing worms on sale, and the gallery, appropriately enough, had their front window full of abstract sculptures made from sinewy curves of copper pipe.
Ryan felt he should find that amusing, but he was in a foul mood. "Ever do something small that changes everything?" Camilla had said. Why was this woman getting to him? She was simply saying what he'd thought a million times himself. So why did it sound like an accusation coming from her? The weird part was, after seeing her with Oliver, after seeing the softness that sometimes came through in her eyes when she wasn't on her guard, he felt like she was one of the few people he could talk to about why he couldn't be a cop anymore....
There was a deep compassion in her, something rare. She was brave, and honest, and whip-smart, but the thing that made her different from everyone else he'd ever met was that unwavering kindness. She treated Oliver like her own child, though she could have dumped him into the system without a backward glance. The boy was difficult and moody, and he knew how to push her buttons, but she still treated him with that compassionate, gentle kindness. She was a rare person.
So why did that make him so uncomfortable?
He slammed the car door and stalked into the building.
The substation was already open. Ryan's deputy, Joe Serrano, always started his shift at eight.
Ryan hung up his hat next to Joe's on the coat rack by the door. There was a small waiting area, then four desks—Joe was on the phone at his, Ryan's own desk was piled with papers, and the two other desks sat pristinely empty, waiting for the reserve deputies who'd be assigned here from the county seat in June.
Ryan went to his own desk and looked over the stack of messages. Nothing important.
He listened to Joe on the phone trying to get a word in edgewise with whoever he had on the line. His deputy was going to be a good cop. He was young, and this was his first assignment, but he had good instincts. Ryan felt a deep responsibility to him. He had been brought up in the ranks by older officers who'd trained him well, going out of their way to make sure he kept safe and learned what he needed. He had wanted to pass that on to Joe. But he couldn't teach Joe everything he needed to know in the next two weeks.
He continued to watch Joe, noting that he wasn't being assertive enough with the caller. He would have to work with him about that. Being too polite could get him killed. He had to be able to take charge of a situation, especially with a belligerent suspect. Otherwise things could get out of hand quickly.
Joe hung up the phone after promising the person on the other end of the line that he'd get there ASAP.
"Farmer up on Pajaro Ridge," Joe quickly explained.
"What's his problem?"
"Some of his chickens have disappeared. He thinks it's a conspiracy. Wants me to come see the evidence."
Ryan nodded.
"I told him someone would be right out."
A drive to the top of Pajaro Ridge and back would take an hour over heavily rutted mountain roads.
"If you'd like to take it, Sir, I wouldn't want to overstep my authority." Joe's expression was angelic.
Ryan laughed out loud. Joe looked really surprised at that, and Ryan felt the surprise, too. Suddenly his emotions seemed to be closer to the surface than they'd been in a long time. He seemed to be smiling, laughing—and getting angry—in ways he hadn't for a very long time.
"I think I can trust you to handle it, Serrano. That's how you get the experience to make detective—working the tough cases."
Joe grabbed his hat and headed for the door.
"Deputy?"
Joe stopped and looked back. Ryan was tempted to go with him to make sure he handled things properly.
"Yeah?"
"Nothing, Joe. Radio me if you
~*~
Chapter 4
The county sheriff department's substation was just a little place in the center of town, tucked between Santos' Market and the modern art gallery. This month Santos' front window was advertising red fishing worms on sale, and the gallery, appropriately enough, had their front window full of abstract sculptures made from sinewy curves of copper pipe.
Ryan felt he should find that amusing, but he was in a foul mood. "Ever do something small that changes everything?" Camilla had said. Why was this woman getting to him? She was simply saying what he'd thought a million times himself. So why did it sound like an accusation coming from her? The weird part was, after seeing her with Oliver, after seeing the softness that sometimes came through in her eyes when she wasn't on her guard, he felt like she was one of the few people he could talk to about why he couldn't be a cop anymore....
There was a deep compassion in her, something rare. She was brave, and honest, and whip-smart, but the thing that made her different from everyone else he'd ever met was that unwavering kindness. She treated Oliver like her own child, though she could have dumped him into the system without a backward glance. The boy was difficult and moody, and he knew how to push her buttons, but she still treated him with that compassionate, gentle kindness. She was a rare person.
So why did that make him so uncomfortable?
He slammed the car door and stalked into the building.
The substation was already open. Ryan's deputy, Joe Serrano, always started his shift at eight.
Ryan hung up his hat next to Joe's on the coat rack by the door. There was a small waiting area, then four desks—Joe was on the phone at his, Ryan's own desk was piled with papers, and the two other desks sat pristinely empty, waiting for the reserve deputies who'd be assigned here from the county seat in June.
Ryan went to his own desk and looked over the stack of messages. Nothing important.
He listened to Joe on the phone trying to get a word in edgewise with whoever he had on the line. His deputy was going to be a good cop. He was young, and this was his first assignment, but he had good instincts. Ryan felt a deep responsibility to him. He had been brought up in the ranks by older officers who'd trained him well, going out of their way to make sure he kept safe and learned what he needed. He had wanted to pass that on to Joe. But he couldn't teach Joe everything he needed to know in the next two weeks.
He continued to watch Joe, noting that he wasn't being assertive enough with the caller. He would have to work with him about that. Being too polite could get him killed. He had to be able to take charge of a situation, especially with a belligerent suspect. Otherwise things could get out of hand quickly.
Joe hung up the phone after promising the person on the other end of the line that he'd get there ASAP.
"Farmer up on Pajaro Ridge," Joe quickly explained.
"What's his problem?"
"Some of his chickens have disappeared. He thinks it's a conspiracy. Wants me to come see the evidence."
Ryan nodded.
"I told him someone would be right out."
A drive to the top of Pajaro Ridge and back would take an hour over heavily rutted mountain roads.
"If you'd like to take it, Sir, I wouldn't want to overstep my authority." Joe's expression was angelic.
Ryan laughed out loud. Joe looked really surprised at that, and Ryan felt the surprise, too. Suddenly his emotions seemed to be closer to the surface than they'd been in a long time. He seemed to be smiling, laughing—and getting angry—in ways he hadn't for a very long time.
"I think I can trust you to handle it, Serrano. That's how you get the experience to make detective—working the tough cases."
Joe grabbed his hat and headed for the door.
"Deputy?"
Joe stopped and looked back. Ryan was tempted to go with him to make sure he handled things properly.
"Yeah?"
"Nothing, Joe. Radio me if you
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