Shattered Justice (13 page)

“This one’s unconscious.” A trooper stood with his fingers pressed to the passenger’s throat, seeking a pulse. Better call an ambulance.”

Dan turned the driver around, pulling his hands behind his back and slipping the cuffs in place. Then he turned the kid back to face him. “What did you take, son? Same thing as your buddy?”

The boy didn’t answer. Just kept looking all around them, ducking his head as though trying to hide.

“Forget it, Deputy.”

Dan looked over his shoulder at the trooper.

“He’s gone. It’s gonna be a while until he can even hear you, let alone answer you.” He fastened his gun back in his holster. “You’d think kids in an area like this would have better things to do than meth, wouldn’t you?”

“Nah.” This from a second trooper. “It’s everywhere. City, rural, doesn’t make a difference. You can’t get away from it.”

Maybe not, Dan thought as he led the boy to his cruiser, but he was going to do what he could to keep it out of Sanctuary.

He only hoped it wasn’t already too late.

The sun was just about overhead by the time Dan made it into the office.

“Mornin’, Chief. Or afternoon, I guess.”

He glanced over his shoulder as he hung his hat on the wall peg and fell into his almost daily mantra. “Jasmine, I’m not a chief.”

She leaned her elbows on her desk, snapped her gum, and nodded. “Oh yeah. Right. I forgot.”

Dan sighed. That should be Jasmine’s middle name:
I forgot
.

She eyed him, brow crinkling. “So how come you carry that hat with you when you never wear it?”

“It’s part of the uniform.”

“But you never wear it.”

“But I always have it with me.”

“But—”

“Jasmine!”

Her ceaseless gum chomping actually ceased as she clamped her mouth shut for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever.”

Dan sighed and went into his office. He was glad Jasmine was here. He never could have handled this job alone. Besides, the two of them made a good team, for the most part. She’d actually become his right-hand man. Er … woman.

Whatever.

He was even getting to the point of accepting her constant gum chewing and snapping. And that her memory was worse than his mother’s used to be.

“Anyways, Chief—”

Make that his grandmother’s. But that was a small obstacle to overcome to have an employee who was responsible, eager to learn, and as reliable as a prize coon dog.

He stood in the doorway of his office. “Not
chief
, Jasmine. Not
sheriff
, or
boss
, or
grand high poobah of law and order
. Just
deputy
. Or
Dan
. But not
chief
, okay?”

Pop! Snap!
“Sure. Anyways, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

She twisted a strand of purple hair around her finger. “We just got two calls in a row.”

Dan’s brow lifted. “Two, huh?” Figured. The one day he
was late, trouble put in extra time.

“The first was another break-in.” She handed him a slip of paper with the details. “One of those nice homes just up offa Highway 62. The lady who called in said they got a bunch of stuff: laptop computers, CD players, TVs—”

“All things you can grab in a hurry. And sell almost as fast.”

“Right.” This affirmation was accompanied by a loud pop of her gum.

Dan eyed her. How did she do that? Talk and pop at the same time?

“Second call came right after. It was a crazy kind of call from ol’ man Brumby. Sheesh. That guy’s a total grump. Did you know Ruby said her sister told her that—?”

“The call?”

“Hmm?”

Dan closed his eyes. One of these days, he was going to get her to focus. “The call. From
Mister
Brumby.” Stress on the
Mister
. A subtle hint she should be a bit more respectful.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Well, once he got done bein’ mad that you weren’t here to answer the phone, and then telling me how I was too young to work in the sheriff’s office and how I dressed like some kind of freak—”

“Jasmine.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Chief.”

He didn’t even correct her. No point putting another distraction in her path.

“Okay, so anyway, ol’ man Brumby—”

Dan sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. So much for respectful.

“—says someone blew up his outhouse this morning. Blew it to ‘heckamy and back,’ he said.” The pop of her gum echoed off the walls like a gunshot. “He talks funny, you know? Real colorful.”

“Yes, I know.” Dan straightened. “Okay, I’ll check out the break-in.”

“And the outhouse, right? ol’ man—”

He gave her an exasperated stare.

“Okay, okay,
Mister
Brumby wants you to stop by and investigate, see if you can catch the—get this—
hoodlums
who did it.”

Dan held out his hands. “Hey, I live to serve.” He headed for the door, grabbing his hat on the way. “Break-in first, then I’ll take a run out there. Let me know if you get any other calls, okay?”

“Will do, Chief.”

Dan paused then pulled open the door.

So he was wrong. Even his grandmother’s memory wasn’t
that
bad.

Shelby Wilson hadn’t planned to end up in Deputy Justice’s arms. She especially hadn’t planned for it to happen in broad daylight, in the middle of town. It was simply a twist of fate—and some pretty phenomenal timing.

She’d been walking down the sidewalk, reading through a pile of reports, not watching where she was going, when a door suddenly flew open in front of her. She dodged, missing the door—her reflexes had always been good.

Everything would have been fine if not for the darned rocking chair on the sidewalk. She was so busy dodging the door, she didn’t see the chair. Her foot caught, and she pitched forward, her papers flying up and raining down on her. But instead of kissing the boardwalk as she expected, she found herself caught in a very capable pair of strong hands.

“Whoa! Careful, there.”

She grabbed on to the arms supporting her, letting her forehead rest for a second against her rescuer, then tipped her head back and saw Dan Justice smiling down at her. He righted her, keeping his hands on her arms.

“You okay, Miss Wilson?”

She stood there, staring at him, her tongue suddenly glued
to the bottom of her mouth. Her head was spinning, and she’d give anything if it had been because of the near fall. But it wasn’t.

It was, and this embarrassed her to no end to admit, because of the feel of his strong hands on her arms. Of his strength beneath her fingers.

And because those blue, blue eyes were closer than she’d ever expected them to be.

“Miss Wilson?” Dan peered at her.

“Shelby,” she corrected automatically, then could have bitten her tongue.

He lifted one brow. “Shelby, then. Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She realized she was still gripping those muscular arms and jerked her hands away, wiping the warmth off on her jacket. “I’m fine. Really.”

He bent to gather her papers, and she knelt next to him, waving him off. “Oh, no. Really, don’t bother.”

His face right next to hers, he angled a look her way, and a smile eased across his lips. “It’s no bother, Shelby.”

She’d always liked her name. Thought it was unique, pretty. But she’d never liked it as much as when Dan Justice said it, with just a hint of teasing.

Shelby couldn’t stop herself. She smiled back. “Thanks, Deputy.”

“Dan.”

Quick heat in her cheeks sent her gaze scurrying to the papers on the boardwalk. “Dan. Thanks.”

He gathered the last of her papers, stood, and held a hand out to her. She slid her hand into his, let him pull her to her feet, then accepted the papers he held out to her.

“It was my pleasure.”

As he walked on down the boardwalk, Shelby had the most ridiculous desire to fan herself with the papers.

Oh no, Dan. No it wasn’t
. She turned and headed on her way.
The pleasure was definitely mine
.

THIS DAY WAS GOING FROM BAD TO WORSE
.

First, he’d spent twice as much time as he’d anticipated with the woman whose home had been burgled. Situated several miles outside of Sanctuary, the clearly custom-built home sat down a long, paved drive, in the middle of ten acres tucked way in the national forest. As Dan followed the immaculately dressed woman from one elegant room to another, writing down all that had been stolen, he got an earful.

“We moved out here to get away from crime,” she sputtered. “I thought this was supposed to be a safe, quiet area! Honestly, what is law enforcement for if it can’t protect our homes?”

It was useless to point out that no area was safe from some kind of crime or that an expensive home this remote was a prime target for thieves. One look at the place was all it took to
know it would be full of treasures just too tempting—and easy to sell—to resist.

Nor did he point out that most everyone in the area knew that two kinds of people gravitated to the remote regions of Oregon: Most were folks who loved simple living, smaller communities, wildlife, wilderness, and nature. But others were far less desirable. People who came out to the boonies to do drugs and other illegal activities without worrying about the law.

Which was why it was such a good thing that they were finally able to have a deputy in Sanctuary again. They’d done their best before that, patrolling this area along with the rest of Jackson County, but it was so much better to live here.

Day to day, he saw who came and went; he got acquainted with the pillars of the community—and with the pits. In the process, he’d run into pretty much every kind of folk, from real live mountain men, complete with scruffy beards, knee-high moccasins, and clothes fashioned from animal pelts; to artsy folks who looked like transplants from the sixties; to those wealthy enough to buy acreage and build million-dollar log homes.

The woman he saw this morning fit in the latter category. And she was far from pleased that her “rustic retreat” had been invaded. When Dan asked what kind of alarm system they had in the house, her manicured hand went to her throat, and she peered down her nose at him like he was three-day-old shrimp. “Alarm system? Good heavens, Deputy, I never
imagined
needing such a thing out here.”

Dan took down all the information, then gave her his card and the card of a reliable alarm system supplier.

After an encounter like that, Dan was not looking forward to dealing with James Brumby.

The old codger had lived just outside of Sanctuary for as long as anyone could remember. No one knew for certain how old he was, but Dan figured he was eighty if he was a day.

Brumby, who’d never been married, believed in keeping to himself and letting everyone else do the same. He just worked his place, cut enough wood to last the winter, and even hunted anything that could grace his table—in and out of season, though Dan had never been able to catch him breaking the law. Brumby only called into town when there was trouble.

Like today.

He was one of a kind, Brumby was. A fact for which Dan was immeasurably thankful.

Of course, a man like Brumby lived as far up the mountain as he could get. And the road to get there was as inhospitable as the man. The rutted dirt logging road was worse every time Dan drove it. With all the recent rain, it was slick as well as bumpy. After one particularly jarring bounce that sent the cruiser sliding from one side of the road to the other, Dan put on the brakes and looked in his rearview mirror.

Nope. He was wrong. No matter what it felt like, he hadn’t left his kidneys back there in the road.

Thank heaven he was almost to Brumby’s place. Of course, that wouldn’t be any more fun than the drive. Because once there, Dan would have to deal with Brumby’s security system: four very large, very vocal,
very
unfriendly dogs.

Dan parked the cruiser next to the fence surrounding Brumby’s property and opened the car door. He’d no sooner stepped out of the vehicle than the dogs were at it, barking and snarling and doing their best to shred the thick wood fence between them and Dan.

“Nice doggies …” he muttered, watching the beasts try to reach him. “Nice big, ugly doggies.”

Since he’d been to Brumby’s a few times before, he knew to call and let the man know what time he’d be arriving. Even so, the old fella took a considerable amount of time to get from the house to the fence.

Brumby aimed ineffectual swats at the dogs as he shuffled up to the gate. “Hush up now, boys! It’s Deputy Dan. He’s a friend.”

He started to open the gate, the yapping monsters at his side, their eyes gleaming as though already anticipating how Dan’s leg would taste. Dan grabbed the gate and jerked it shut again. “James, would you please put the dogs inside?”