The Accidental Sheriff (2 page)

Neil almost felt sorry for her. Almost. He could see his own five-year-old daughter Zoey as a teenager, trembling from head to toe, waiting for the ax to fall. Unfortunately, Briana had been driving without a license and, from what he could determine, had caused the accident. And while it had occurred on private property, the ranch parking lot was accessible to the public.

The choice of whether or not to issue her a citation was Neil’s.

Jake listened to an account of the accident and, despite his obvious anger, did an admirable job of maintaining his cool with both his daughter and Carolina. Not that Neil figured
she took any guff from her cousin. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“Can my wife and I leave now?” the major asked when Neil was finished taking statements and collecting contact information.

“You folks drive careful,” he warned them. “Traffic can be congested this time of day.”

“Thank you again for coming to the wedding.” Jake shook the major’s hand. “I know Corrine really appreciates it.”

“I wish we could have stayed longer,” the major’s wife gushed. “You have a beautiful place.”

Neil agreed. The spectacular scenery and quiet country living were the main reasons he’d picked the Payson area in which to settle down. Other than the occasional drunken brawl and dispute between neighbors, not much happened here in the way of crime. Quite a change from Manhattan’s Upper West Side, where he’d spent ten years on the force—the last one in a daze, struggling to cope in the wake of his wife’s death.

Four years had dulled the pain but not the guilt.

He shouldn’t have listened to her, shouldn’t have done his duty. Maybe then, she’d still be alive.

Neil retrieved his sunglasses from his breast pocket and put them back on.

“If you need anything, you have my number.” The major and his wife returned to their rented SUV after saying goodbye.

“Look, I know the accident was Briana’s fault.” Carolina moved to stand beside Neil. “But is there any way you can cut her some slack?”

“What are you suggesting, Ms. Sweetwater?”

“A warning?”

“Carolina,” Jake interrupted, his tone clearly telling her to butt out.

In truth, Neil
was
inclined to cut Briana a little slack, but not because of her father or Carolina. His instincts told him
Briana was a good kid, if not a good driver. And as scared as she was at this moment, she’d definitely exercise more caution in the future.

“You committed two violations.” He ignored everyone else and addressed Briana. “The first was failure to yield the right-of-way, and the second was driving without a valid license.”

She nodded resignedly.

“Today—and only today—I’m going to let you off with a warning.”

“No way!” Her jaw dropped, and her eyes bugged.

“If I’m called out again to an accident in which you’re involved, rest assured I’ll throw the book at you.”

“I promise. I’ll be really, really careful from now on. I’ll check both ways three times and never go over thirty miles an hour.”

“Just practice reasonable caution.” Neil made a few more notes, then wrote up Briana’s warning. “That’s all I ask.”

He received three thank-yous. Briana’s was relieved, Jake’s appreciative and Carolina’s accompanied by a flirty smile. Oh, boy.

Neil wasn’t a recluse. He dated once in a while, but not seriously and not with the intention of remarrying. He liked it that way. From what he’d heard around town about Carolina Sweetwater, she subscribed to a similar philosophy. It should be a perfect match.

But he had no interest in finding that out.

What Neil saw when he looked at her was a woman he wouldn’t mind getting to know a whole lot better. And when he linked her name and the idea of remarrying, his stomach didn’t turn to stone. For those two reasons, he diligently maintained a safe distance from her. His job was dangerous. It had cost him his wife and his child her mother. He refused to put another person he cared about in danger, the way he
had Lynne. Avoiding serious involvements seemed the easiest solution.

“Is that all?” Briana returned his citation book after signing the warning. She was doing her best to gnaw her bottom lip in half.

“For now.” He tried to sound stern. Inside, he was chuckling. “Good day, everyone.” Touching his fingers to the brim of his hat, he took his leave. “I trust I won’t see any inebriated wedding guests on the road this evening.”

“Absolutely not,” Jake assured him.

Neil’s exit was delayed by a soft, feminine hand on his arm.

Carolina’s.

“Would you like a piece of cake for the road? And maybe one for your daughter? I could pull a few strings and arrange for an icing rose to be on it.”

She smelled nice, the scent light and floral. He remembered it from the night they’d double-dated, when he realized his interest in her was more than casual and not at all appropriate for someone his coworker was taking out.

“Thank you, ma’am, but no.” She had yet to remove her hand, and Neil could feel a slight warming where her fingers pressed into his skin.

“Okay,” she said smoothly. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Maintaining that safe distance was a lot harder when she was standing three inches away and touching him. Neil slipped up.

“I’m looking forward to it, Carolina.”

“Me, too.”

He returned to his car before committing a second blunder, taking her floral scent with him. The last thing he saw before pulling out of the ranch parking lot was Carolina climbing the
stone walkway, the setting sun gleaming off her lime-green dress. It was a sight he wouldn’t forget.

He had no sooner reached the highway when a call came in on his radio.

“Hey, Neil, you’re needed back here on the double. We have a ten-twenty-four.” Miss Emily was one of four dispatchers and his favorite. Perhaps because she reminded him a little of his grandmother.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a ten-thirty-five.”

Miss Emily wasn’t much for protocol and had been with the department too long to frazzle easily. Which was why her urgency and use of official codes concerned Neil. “Be there in twenty,” he told her.

“Make it sooner.”

Neil accelerated. In the eighteen months he’d been on the job, not once had he been called back to the station for an emergency, much less a confidential one. He couldn’t imagine what was wrong.

The Gila County Sheriff’s Station was located off the Beeline Highway, which ran through Payson. Weekend recreationists were visiting the town in record numbers, triple-digit degrees in Phoenix driving them north to the much cooler parts of the state. Growing increasingly frustrated at the constant slowdowns, Neil switched on his flashers. Traffic magically parted, and he sped the remaining distance to the station.

After parking at the rear of the building, he entered through the side door. The central room was vacant, which was almost unheard-of. Voices carried from down the hallway, loud and panicked. Neil headed in that direction. Nearly a dozen individuals were crammed in the sheriff’s office, among them three other deputies, only one of whom was in uniform.

Neil scanned their worried faces. One person was noticeably missing. “Where’s Sheriff Herberger?”

“That’s just it.” The county commissioner came out from behind the sheriff’s desk to meet Neil. “He’s at the Payson Regional Medical Center.”

“Is he all right?”

“We hope so. He’s had a heart attack.”

“How bad?”

“Right now, he’s stable. The doctors will know more later tonight after they run additional tests. But they say it’s likely he’ll require bypass surgery.”

That explained the worried faces.

“What do we do?”

“The first order of business is to appoint an acting sheriff.” County Commissioner Daniels placed a firm hand on Neil’s shoulder. “That, my friend, is you.”

“Me?”

“The City Council members and I are all in agreement. There’s no one better suited to fill in for the sheriff than you.”

“Excuse me, sir, but there are other deputies with more years in the department than me.” Two of them were standing a few feet away and glaring at Neil.

“None with your experience in law enforcement.”

“If it’s all right with you—”

“Enough, Neil. We’ve made our decision. Congratulations.” The county commissioner tightened his grip.

Neil had the uneasy sensation of being trapped.

“We’ve arranged for you to do an interview with KPKD,” the man continued. “Tomorrow morning, nine a.m. sharp.”

“So soon?”

“The people of this county need to know everything’s status
quo and that they have someone competent to rely on during Sheriff Herberger’s recovery.”

What they had, thought Neil, was an acting sheriff who didn’t want the job.

Carolina arrived at work twenty minutes early, as was her habit. She liked getting a jump on the day, though lately she felt there wasn’t much for her to get a jump on. While grabbing a cup of coffee in the staff lounge, she contemplated various program ideas and tried to formulate a new approach with her boss. Being shot down seven times in a row had only increased her determination to take on a greater, more respected role than that of morning traffic director.

Step one in her life-redirecting plan.

Cup in hand, she headed toward the cluster of cubicles, one of which she shared with her counterpart, the evening traffic director. A friendly voice stopped her. “Morning, Carolina.”

“Hey, Adrian.”

The techie—Carolina wasn’t sure of his exact title because he did a little of everything—fell in step beside her.

“How was the wedding?”

“Wonderful. Perfect. The happy couple are leaving today for a ten-day cruise of the Caribbean.”

“I heard you smashed your new car.”

“My niece did, actually. It’s not too bad.” At least that was what she kept telling herself. “I have an appointment at the body shop after work.”

“Hey, listen.” Adrian turned suddenly shy. “My brother
scored a couple extra tickets to the jazz concert at the casino October sixteenth. You want to go?”

Carolina flashed him a wide smile, hoping it would help ease the letdown. “Sorry, Adrian, I can’t.”

“Other plans?”

“Yeah.” Her plans didn’t involve a date but rather step two of her life-redirecting plan.

As recently as last week, she might have accepted Adrian’s invitation, despite the six-year age difference. Carolina wasn’t bound by convention and had dated men both younger and decades older than her.

Today, however, marked a change in policy. Henceforth, she refused to go out with anyone who didn’t genuinely appeal to her—which made Neil Lovitt the only candidate.

Until yesterday she’d considered him a lost cause. But then he’d smiled at her and told her he was looking forward to seeing her again. Carolina recognized interest when she saw it. Whether Deputy Sheriff Lovitt would act on it was another thing.

Not that she was planning to wait and see. Carolina had every intention of eliciting another smile from him and finding out how far it would lead.

Her boss, the news director, poked his head around his cubicle. “Carolina. Good, you’re here. I need to see you.” His head promptly disappeared.

“Catch you later, Adrian.”

“Sure.” He lumbered off, eyes glued to the carpet, the bounce gone from his gait.

For an instant, she regretted her actions. Maybe later she’d offer to bring him back some lunch. That should help restore his good mood and reestablish that their relationship was strictly platonic.

“What’s up, Ward?” She sat on the visitor chair squeezed into a narrow space between her boss’s desk and the cubicle wall.

“I need you to pull double duty today. Melanie called in sick.”

“Oh, okay.” Carolina periodically covered for deejays. While the position was considered senior to hers, she didn’t think it was anywhere near as enjoyable or challenging as the one she had in her sights—roving announcer. No being shut in a control room four hours at a stretch for her.

“We have an important interview this morning. You’re going to sit in with Rowdy.”

Rowdy Rodgers was the station’s popular morning show host. He’d been lured away from one of Phoenix’s big five in an attempt to boost KPKD’s ratings and steal the number-one slot from their closest competitor.

“No problem.” Carolina perked up. Coanchoring an interview with Rowdy wasn’t exactly the meaty assignment she longed for, but it was a darn sight better than reading traffic reports. “Who’s the guest?”

“The new acting sheriff for Gila County.” Ward stared at his computer monitor while he talked, clicking his mouse and scrolling through Web pages. “We have an exclusive, so this is huge stuff.”

“What happened to Sheriff Herberger?”

“He had a heart attack.”

“No!”

“Yes. I want you to head over to the hospital the moment he’s allowed to have visitors and interview him.”

Carolina barely noticed she’d gotten her first big break. “Will he be all right?”

“That’s the latest. He’s having surgery today.”

She made a mental note to call her cousin Jake. The family would want to send flowers.

“Who’s taking his place?” she asked.

“Neil Lovitt.”

“Really!”

“He’s here now. They’re prepping him.”

Carolina suppressed the small thrill that coursed through her at the prospect of seeing Neil again so soon.

“I’ll get right over there.” She stood. “Thanks for the opportunity, Ward.”

“Let Rowdy handle the interview. All I need from you is backup.” Her boss looked up from his monitor. “Don’t get carried away.”

She raised two fingers in a pledge. “Scout’s honor.”

“Yeah, right.”

His sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on her, and she left his cubicle wearing a grin.

N
EIL LOOKED
so uncomfortable and out of place, Carolina had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She doubted he could sit any straighter or clench his jaw any tighter.

Without making a sound, she slid into the chair beside Rowdy. He was currently pitching a local restaurant owned by the station’s newest sponsor. Without missing a beat, he pushed a sheet of paper across the table toward her. She quickly scanned the questions they would ask Neil—make that, Rowdy would ask Neil—and soundlessly set the paper down. Then she sent Neil her warmest smile.

He didn’t respond. In fact, he was so focused on the microphone in front of him, he hardly acknowledged her. A line of perspiration dotted his brow, and his left hand was balled into a tight fist. Funny, she’d always thought of him as oozing confidence. It was odd seeing him so nervous.

Rowdy announced Sheriff Herberger’s illness and Neil’s appointment as acting sheriff, doing it all with his usual just-this-side-of-silly style.

Carolina utilized the twenty or so seconds left to study Neil and abruptly changed her mind. He wasn’t nervous but rather…angry? No, uncomfortable and unhappy. And she got the feeling it wasn’t because of the interview.

“Welcome to KPKD, Deputy Sheriff Lovitt. Or, should I call you
Sheriff
Lovitt now?” Rowdy opened the interview with the ease of a well-practiced professional.

“Thank you for having me.”

Carolina noticed Neil didn’t answer Rowdy’s question.

“First off, how’s Sheriff Herberger doing?” The deejay motioned for Neil to move closer and speak directly into the microphone. “I know everyone out there is concerned.”

“He’s doing well at the moment. His surgery is scheduled for this morning.”

They went on to discuss the sheriff’s prognosis. Neil’s responses were clipped and to the point, demonstrating none of the skills required to make it as an on-air personality.

“Do you have any plans for the position over the next couple months?” Rowdy switched topics, a trick deejays used to keep listeners’ attention.

“No.”

“None at all?” Rowdy chuckled.

Neil remained stubbornly silent.

“Come on, Sheriff. This is your big chance. You could maybe wipe a few laws off the books, or how ’bout relax the dress code? Those uniforms have got to be itchy.”

“I don’t have that kind of authority.”

“It was a joke, Sheriff.”

Neil didn’t so much as blink.

Rowdy shot Carolina an I’m-dying-here look.

She ignored the sheet of paper with its questions and asked one of her own. “Sheriff Lovitt, I understand you served with the NYPD for ten years. Can you tell us a little about that experience?”

His knee suddenly jerked. Coincidence, or had her question triggered the involuntary response? She decided to find out.

“I’m sure our listeners would enjoy hearing about your work in New York and how it differs from Payson. Is it anything like the show,
NYPD Blue?
And what brought you here, practically to the other side of the country?”

Another knee jerk.

She’d definitely stumbled on to something.

“The crime rate is higher in New York,” he finally said.

Since Rowdy didn’t seem to mind, Carolina continued with the interview. “What exactly was your position?”

“Homicide detective.”

“Thank goodness we don’t have much need for that here,” Rowdy interjected.

“Yes.”

Neil’s carefully guarded control was puzzling, and Carolina liked puzzles.

“Did you ever have to shoot anybody in the line of duty?”

“Yes.” The muscle in his jaw flexed.

“Often?”

“No. Just once.”

Rowdy wiped imaginary sweat off his brows. “Whew! That’s good to know.” He signaled Carolina that he was taking back the interview.

She resigned herself to sitting quietly.

Ward’s head and shoulders abruptly appeared on the other side of the glass. Because of her position, she was the only one who could see him. He pressed a sheet of notepaper to the glass. On it was written “Ask him if he’s ever been shot at.” When she raised her eyebrows, Ward shook his head and rolled his hand in a hurry-up gesture.

Strange, but Carolina wasn’t in a position to question her boss.

“Has anyone ever shot at
you?
” she interjected during the next pause.

Neil’s knee jerked again, hitting the underside of the table.

Several seconds of dead air space followed, which wasn’t a good thing in radio.

Rowdy gave her an annoyed look and jumped in. “Sorry, folks. Slight technical difficulty. I think we’re good now.”

He pointed a finger at Carolina then placed it on his lips. She hitched a thumb at the window, mouthed
Ward
and shrugged one shoulder. Neil stared curiously at them, obviously not understanding the byplay.

“How does your daughter, Zoey, like Payson?” Rowdy read from the list of questions. “She’s five, right?”

“Yes. Six next month.”

“Is she in school?”

He nodded.

“The folks can’t see you, Sheriff,” Rowdy joked. “You have to actually talk.”

“Yes, she’s in school.”

Ward held up another paper instructing Carolina to ask the question about being shot at again. Rowdy didn’t give her a chance.

“How does she feel about her dad being appointed acting sheriff?”

“She hasn’t said,” Neil replied.

Ward wiggled the paper.

Carolina threw up her hands, indicating she was helpless. They’d moved on to a new topic. It made no sense going back to the old one.

All at once, Neil swung around.

Ward immediately yanked the paper down. Carolina wasn’t sure if Neil had seen it or not. When he turned back around, his gaze locked with hers.

Yeah, he’d seen it all right. There was no mistaking the anger blazing in his eyes.

Rowdy conducted the rest of the interview, which lasted another two minutes, keeping it light and mildly informative—which was a credit to his talent, considering Neil didn’t make it easy for the deejay.

After the interview, they went right into a song.

“Good luck, Sheriff.” Rowdy shook Neil’s hand. “Appreciate you dropping by today.”

“No problem.” Neil didn’t hide his desire to get out of there as fast as possible.

Carolina tried to detain him outside the door. “I’ll be interviewing Sheriff Herberger later this week. Any chance I can do a follow-up interview with you?”

“Afraid not.” He inclined his head. “Have a nice day, Ms. Sweetwater.”

No sexy slight curving of his lips, no murmuring her first name.

She watched him walk away, thinking she’d liked him a whole lot better yesterday.

Ward materialized from nowhere and barked in her ear, “My office, fifteen minutes!”

Good. She had a few things to discuss with him, too. Like what the heck he’d been doing waving those papers at her?

“W
ELL
?” W
ARD ASKED
.

Carolina once again occupied the visitor chair in her boss’s office, squished between his desk and the cubicle wall.

“It’s compelling reading, but so what?” She handed him back the pages he’d printed out, copies of articles that had originally appeared in the
New York Times.

“This is news.”

“Actually,
old
news. And not necessarily relevant.”

“The people of this county are entitled to know about their
new acting sheriff. The man responsible for their safety and well being.”

“Know what? That his wife died tragically, the victim of a stray bullet?” Even as she said it, Carolina suffered a stab of pain. How truly awful that must have been for Neil. Not to mention his poor daughter.

“A bullet that was fired by the man he was attempting to apprehend,” Ward said. “That raises some serious concerns in my mind about whether or not he acted appropriately. Whether he’s the right man for the job of acting sheriff.”

“According to the article, he was investigated by Internal Affairs and found innocent of any wrongdoing.”

“The story is newsworthy, and it’s our job to present it.”

“When did KPKD get into the investigative reporting game? We’re not a twenty-four-hour news station. People tune in to us to be entertained. ‘Information is a perk delivered in small doses,’” she added, quoting him from a departmental meeting the previous month.

“Management wants us to raise the quality of our news segments in order to compete.”

“By exploiting Neil Lovitt’s personal tragedy?”

“By informing the public of a situation that concerns them.”

“Surely he passed a rigorous background check when he was hired as deputy sheriff. If there had been anything irregular or questionable, he wouldn’t have been hired.”

“People lie.”

Neil didn’t strike Carolina as the lying type. “Why didn’t you bring this up with me before the interview?”

“I just happened to do an Internet search on him.”

She couldn’t help gaping at Ward. “And you happened to do this
during
the interview, not before?”

“It was an afterthought. A good one.”