“Mad?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said casually.
She bit her lip. “Um...I don’t think I’ll tell Jeremy about this. I mean, it would just hurt him. Right? So I won’t say anything.” The plea in her voice was clear—And you won’t either, right?
He swam to the rocks and hoisted himself out of the water, watching as her eyes scanned him. That’s it, rich girl. Heterosexual male. Enjoy. He walked over to her and stood very close. “You know, I always did think you were ditzy and spoiled and irritating,” he said in a low voice. “But before today, I never thought you were a tease.”
With that, he made his way back up to their adorable little picnic area. The dog woofed at his approach and again offered its belly, but this time, Levi ignored him. Instead, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, picked up his brown bag and headed back to work for the Lyons, walking through the Holland fields in the bright light and hot sun.
Faith, he noted, didn’t return.
That weekend, Jeremy called him, his voice its usual bouncy tone. “How you doing, bud?” he asked. “Wanna hang out?”
“Sure,” Levi said. Whatever guilt he’d felt about kissing Jeremy’s girlfriend he’d managed to ball up and toss into the dirty laundry area of his conscience. Hell, he told himself, he’d have kissed just about any female under the circumstances. It had just been a bad case of...whatever. “How was California?” he asked.
“It was great,” Jeremy said. “And I have some good news. Faith and I are back together.”
“Not surprised,” Levi said. Like she was gonna dump the golden boy. The star quarterback. The future doctor. The heir to the Lyons’ vineyard.
Levi saw Faith at school, of course. Jeremy’s angelic girlfriend, who couldn’t tell the difference between a guy who wanted to bang her silly and a guy who didn’t.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MOST OF THE CALLS Levi had to respond to were pretty mild, and he liked it that way.
This call, however, was one of the livelier calls they’d had this week. On Tuesday, he’d sat out with a radar gun after Carol Robinson had complained about the speed on her road at 2:40 when the high school kids got out of school. Yesterday, he talked to the third-grade class about why drugs were wrong. There’d been a call from Laura Boothby, because she couldn’t reach a vase on a high shelf of her flower shop and didn’t want to fall by using her stepstool, which her no-good son had promised to fix and hadn’t, and would Levi please come over and get it for her? (He had. Figured it was better than finding Laura with a broken hip three days from now.) Last night around eleven, there’d been another call from Suzette Minor—third this month—who’d heard suspicious noises and wanted Levi to come check her house (especially her bedroom). He had, though not with the results she wanted. The whole red swishy nightgown thing, the “Officer, please help me/I’m frightened/My, but you’re strong” didn’t work on him. He’d been hired to protect and serve, and “serve” did not mean “service.”
Most of the calls to the Manningsport Police had more to do with being a good neighbor than any true police work. It didn’t hurt that he was a local and, being a decorated veteran, someone who’d become pretty much universally loved. History had a way of fogging over when you were given a medal or two... Ellis Mitchum seemed to have forgotten the time he’d told Levi that his precious Angela wasn’t going to get knocked up by some trailer trash like Levi. Now, Ellis loved nothing more than buying him a beer and reminiscing about Vietnam. (Angela, for the record, had gone on to get knocked up by a kid from Corning their senior year.)
Nope, Levi was no longer trailer park trash; when the time had come to hire a cop to help out Chief Griggs, the town council, including old Mr. Holland, just about fell over themselves to accept his application. One year later, the chief retired, and Levi got that job, too. He now presided over Everett Field, his deputy, and Emmaline Neal, the administrative assistant with a penchant for analyzing him. It also meant that Levi earned ten grand more a year, and since his sister was in college, that was welcome.
But, as chief, he had to go on almost every call, too.
“Oh, Chief, please!” Nancy Knox wept. “He’s going to kill my baby! Please help!”
“Okay, okay, let me take a look,” he said. He crouched down and looked. No murders yet. Everyone looked very calm. Even a little sleepy. “Everett, go to the other side of the porch in case he makes a run for it.”
“Yes, sir, Chief. You bet. Going to the other side of the porch right now, roger.” Everett paused. “Uh, is that the south or the north side, sir?”
“Just go around the porch, Ev,” Levi said, trying to curb his impatience. “Don’t let him get away.”
“Roger that, Chief. Going to the other side, won’t let him get away.” Levi heard the click as Everett snapped open his holster.
“Put your gun back!” Levi barked. “For God’s sake, Everett. You’re gonna hurt someone with that someday.”
“Oh, my poor baby! Is she still alive?” Mrs. Knox said. “I can’t look! I can’t!”
Levi looked back under the porch, where a dog and a chicken were eyeing each other. “She’s alive, Mrs. Knox. Don’t worry. Come here, pooch. Come on, fella.”
The dog wagged and grinned but didn’t move. If Levi wasn’t mistaken, that was Faith Holland’s dog, judging by the size of his enormous head and neon-green plaid collar. The Knoxes lived about a mile down the Hill from the Hollands, and they kept chickens that made up about seven percent of Levi’s calls...they were free range, which meant they often wandered onto the road and had once caused a kid to veer off into the ditch. People were always calling to complain.
The chicken seemed just fine—the dog seemed delighted with the bird, which cocked its head and made a funny, burring noise. The dog wagged and panted, covered in dirt.
“Come on, Blue,” Levi said. “Come on, buddy.”
The dog smiled again. He was a great-looking dog, and dumb as a box of hair. Not that the chicken was Stephen Hawking, mind you. It could’ve walked out from under the porch at any time.
“Please, Chief. Please save my little baby.”
Levi sighed. The Knoxes needed to have kids or cats or monkeys or something. “Okay, I’ll go under.”
“That dog is vicious.” Mrs. Knox wept.
“Want me to call for backup?” Everett asked.
“No, Ev,” Levi said. “The dog’s fine.” Levi had to belly-crawl, using his elbows to pull himself along. His drill sergeant at basic had loved making them do this. Four tours in Afghanistan, and Levi had never once had to crawl. But here it was, coming in handy.
His cell phone rang. All police calls to the station were transferred to his cell if he was out on a call. “Chief Cooper,” he said.
“It’s me,” his sister said. “I’m home. I couldn’t take it another second.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Is it Baby! Is she dead?” Mrs. Knox shrilled.
“She’s not dead,” Levi called back.
“Where are you?” Sarah demanded.
“I’m working. Why are you home? School started three weeks ago, Sarah, and you’ve already been back six times.”
“I’m homesick, okay? I’m sorry I’m such a pain in your ass, but I hate it there! I need a gap year.”
“You’re not having a gap year. You’re in college, and you’re going to finish. Now, I’m busy, so we’ll talk when I get home.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m rescuing a chicken.”
“I am totally tweeting that. My brother, the hero.”
He hung up. Gap year, his ass. She’d go back to college; he’d drive her back tonight...okay, maybe tomorrow morning. And she’d stay in school, she’d do great, and she’d thank him later.
About five more feet of crawling through the dirt—which appeared to be fertilized by the Knox chickens, so, yes, this really was a chickenshit job at the moment—till he could reach the dog. But apparently, the chicken decided there was nothing to fear, because it plunked itself down right against Blue’s chest. The dog seemed quite pleased about that, resting his chin on the chicken’s back. “They’re cuddling,” he called.
“What?” Nancy shrieked. “Did you say killing?”
“Cuddling!” Levi shouted back.
“Chief!” Everett shouted. “Are you in danger? I have drawn my weapon! Do you need assistance?”
“Everett! Put that gun away!”
“Roger that, Chief.”
Levi sighed. More days than not, he imagined that he would die at the hands of Officer Everett Field’s general ineptitude. Alas, Everett was the only child of Marian Field, Manningsport’s mayor, and basically had a job for life. He wasn’t a bad kid, and he had a wicked case of hero worship where Levi was concerned, but he drew his weapon roughly six times a day.
“Blue, old buddy,” he said, “I’m gonna relieve you of this bird, if you don’t mind.” Blue wagged again, and Levi took the sleeping chicken in his hands, then reverse-crawled out. He was filthy. His shift was almost over, at least. Not that he stopped working; there was always something else to do, which suited Levi just fine these days.
“Here you go,” he said, handing Mrs. Knox her chicken. “Think about an enclosure, okay?”
“Oh, Chief, thank you so much!” she said, beaming at him. “You’re wonderful! What about that dog, though? He’s evil! He should be locked up!”
The dog whined from under the porch, probably missing his little buddy. “I’ll speak to the owner,” Levi said.
“That was a great save, Chief,” Everett said, coming over as Levi brushed himself off as best he could. “You did an amazing job. Wow.”
Levi stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Thanks, Ev. Listen. You draw that gun again, and I’m taking it away from you.”
“Roger that, Chief.”
Levi bent down and looked at the dog, who looked quite morose. “Wanna go for a ride?”
The dog flew out from under the porch, then streaked over to the cruiser, dancing eagerly.
“Maybe you should’ve said that first,” Everett pointed out. “Then you wouldn’t have had to crawl under there. You got really dirty.”
“Thanks for pointing that out. Why don’t you close up the station tonight, Ev?”
Everett’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Sure.” Levi would go back and check it afterward, because Everett always forgot something. Besides, the police station was forty-five seconds from where he lived. Plus, he’d be on the town green, anyway, as there was yet another wine event today. Every weekend, there was something going on, and it was fine. Good for the town, good for job security.
But for now, a shower. He looked at the dog. It didn’t feel right to bring a huge, filthy animal into Mr. and Mrs. Holland’s house, where he’d heard Faith was staying. Dog-washing. Another thing to add to his job description.
Since his wife dumped him a year and a half ago, Levi lived in the Opera House apartment building. Sharon and Jim Wiles had both spent and made a fortune on converting the building into the only apartment complex in town. A month after Nina had casually informed him that married life wasn’t for her after all and reenlisted, Levi’s mother had been diagnosed with a fast and furious pancreatic cancer. She’d died six weeks later. Sarah, then almost finished with her junior year in high school, had moved in with him.
He’d done his big brother shtick, putting his arm around her and letting her bawl, making her grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, like Mom had done. He missed their mother, too, but he’d been away for eight years. One thing combat had taught him was that in order to handle some of the awful shit they’d dealt with, feelings had to have the cuffs slapped on them, so to speak. He’d shed a few tears at his mom’s bedside, don’t get him wrong, but when real memories crept in—the time she took him to Niagara Falls when he was in fifth grade and she was pregnant with Sarah, so they could have one last day of it being just the two of them...how she sobbed when he came home for good...well, Levi tried to think about something else.