AGENT COOPER

I must admit, I am impressed with the 1876 Manor at Mount Mansfield. The Inn is exceptional, Vermont is beautiful, the people are friendly and the coffee is extraordinary … even the coffee at that little café across from the police station. I admit I do have an intriguing curiosity about the town’s new sheriff though. All his records are in order, his background is impeccable but his way of doing things is most unusual. He seems completely baffled by the fact that he has a female officer on staff, almost old fashioned about it. But all in all, I like the man. He’s charismatic and smart as a whip. I should know by now that small town sheriffs are a bit different. Time will tell how he’ll do for Stowe. For now, he’s doing all he can to assist in my investigation and I do appreciate it. A case always moves smoother with overall cooperation.

My research on the victim is as interesting as this town. Robert Sawicki was a sterling undercover expert. He’d dedicated eight years of his life to getting as deep as possible. During his time in Stowe, the little town was bohemian and a hotbed for drug trafficking. He’d manage to break three of those rings unnoticed before he met his demise. Or … was it unnoticed? The most fortuitous part of all this is that most of the people living in Stowe during those years are still here, if not them, their children or grandchildren. Such familial longevity among any small town population breeds wonderful opportunities for information … but also many reasons for secretiveness. I’ll need to assert myself more within the community to get as comfortably accepted as necessary to dig up the truth, most likely buried far deeper than poor Agent Sawicki’s body was.

I do have two very distinct curiosities about this place. The first is Ms. Daisy, an LA bartender who came to Stowe with her significant other, young Cory White. The woman has a direct line to the strange energy that supposedly permeates this Inn; ghosts, if you will. According to Ms. Daisy, the ghost of Bob Sawicki is still very much in contact with her. My difficulty is convincing her to ask the apparition to assist in his own case. She tells me he refuses. Can’t say that I blame him, after all, he’s done doing his job, now it’s my job.

My second curiosity is a New York lawyer by the name of Richard Roberts. He’s done nothing to make me leery of him. It’s just a bit odd that a man of his skills and talents would choose to remain in a sleepy Vermont town indefinitely. He certainly isn’t suspect of anything, just interesting to me.

For now I am looking forward to breakfast here at the Inn, always an extravagant and delicious experience. And of course, there’s the coffee. Damn good coffee. Then it’s off for another day with Sheriff Ben Wade.

JOHN

Ben kept Gerry Kennedy in jail over night again but I just couldn’t sleep over it. The guy was facing hell, facing it alone and trying to figure all this shit out in a cell. I went and got him early this morning and brought him home. My idea was to offer him our guest room for a few days until he got his footing, learned the truth of things and maybe started to get a grip on it all, but God sakes, who knows how long that’s gonna take. I wasn’t feeling any kinship toward him. Of course, I never feel a kinship with the new arrivals at first, even if they’re Crowe created. But this dude worried me a little.

We walked in and you’d have thought Riley was seeing a ghost.

“Uh … Riles … this is –”

“Oh … my … God! Gerry Kennedy? OhmyGod.”

“Ma’am,” he said politely and ran a hand down his wrinkled shirt, obviously a bit embarrassed.

“Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat. It won’t take more than a few minutes,” she squeaked. Damn, she was all flustered. Maybe keeping him in our apartment wasn’t such a good idea after all. I shot her a glare.

“No, thanks,” Kennedy groaned.

“Riles, just some coffee … then we’re gonna talk.” She nodded like a puppet, eyes wide as saucers. “Alone,” I added and she finally blinked.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Let me get cups and bring the coffee.” She rushed into the kitchen and returned in the blink of an eye with a tray; mugs, sugar, cream, a thermos carafe of coffee and a plate of cookies. She set it on the coffee table. “Um ... okay then … um … I’ve got things to do anyway. Nathan,” she called and our son toddled out on his sturdy little legs.

He grinned wide and walked right up to Kennedy, wrapped his arms around the man’s tree stump leg and said, “Hi!”

“Hi there, little one,” Kennedy smiled and rubbed Nathan’s hair.

“Hi, daddy.” The kid then gave my knee a hug and I looked down.

“Why don’t you go on with mommy, Nathan. We’ll go down to the pond later.”

“Come on, bubby. Let’s go hang out with Marla for a while.”

“Marla! Marla! Marla!” he skipped out the door and Riley barely caught his hand before she turned to me.

We shared a kiss and she looked into my eyes, mouthing, “Gerry Kennedy?”

I shrugged.

“What are the Portals doing?” she whispered.

“Dunno.”

“You gonna be okay handling this alone? He’s a big guy, John.”

Okay, that ruffled my feathers but I looked back. He was a big guy. “If I need help I’ll call Pullo or Antony. It’ll be fine. Just give me a few hours, baby.”

“Absolutely. Be gentle, John,” and I got another kiss, a really good kiss that time.

I closed the door and groaned. Did I really wanna be doing this? I turned. “Mr. Kennedy, why don’t you have a seat? We need to talk.” I poured coffee and cleared my throat. Where to start?

“Look,” he said, not even touching his mug. “I appreciate your … kindness, but I don’t know you, John Biebe.” His brogue was thick Scottish, not thick Irish and I recalled an interview Gerard Butler once gave where he apologized to the people of Ireland for botching their accent so badly in that film.

“Well,” I approached the subject carefully. “I know you.”

“How do you know me? You ever been to Ireland?”

“No.” Not Scotland either. “Listen,” I sighed. “I know you’re confused and I’m thinking maybe I can help you. See, you’re not alone in all this.”

“In all what?” His brow shot up and voice rose dangerously. “I died. I’m tellin’ ya, I died. It was painful and it was heartbreaking and I bloody died!”

“Many of us have. Some of us didn’t. We just … woke up … here.”

“In Vermont?” he hissed.

“In this world. I know you aren’t gonna believe me, so I’ve got something for you to watch.” It wasn’t hard to find, one of Riley’s favorite DVD’s and right near the top of the stack. I popped P.S. I Love You into the player and turned to a substantial scowl.

“You gonna try to sell me somethin’? ‘Cause I ain’t in the market. I gotta get home to Holly and let her know …”

And the film started, Gerry chasing Holly along a New York street and arguing all the way into their cramped little apartment. All I could do was cope with the sappy chick flick and wait. Gerry was speechless for over two hours. Now the hard part was going to begin for me.

KIM

I got to work early, wanting to build up the right frame of mind before facing Emmie. Everything’s moving so fast right now that it’s hard to focus on one thing; the discovery of the body buried here at the Inn, the jump in reservations that’s only going to increase as the season moves into winter, feeling a bit alienated and out of sorts as I try to settle in to a guest bedroom that’s the size of a shoe box, and knowing that Riley will hang me out to dry if I don’t follow through and fix the situation that I pretty much created. Yeah, I’ll take responsibility for my part of the fiasco; I should never have brought PonyGirl back to Emmie’s apartment. Seriously bad call, Barrett.

Deciding that I might as well end my ordeal as quickly as possible I decided to wait for her inside the gift shop, letting myself in with a set of duplicate keys that we keep in the office. It just seemed like a good idea to approach her on her own turf; I had a feeling that she would have just ignored me if I sent a message asking her to meet me in the office. Knowing that she liked to arrive to the shop early before the other clerks, I was hoping to have the element of surprise and privacy on my side when I made my offer. The last thing I needed was another round of rumors making their way through the employee break room.

EMILY

As I unlocked the gift shop doors, I had a funny sensation that something wasn’t quite right. The aroma of chocolate hazelnut coffee brewing was the first give away, but at first I simply thought that one of the girls might have forgotten to turn off the coffee maker before heading home the night before. And then I smelled a familiar men’s cologne and I just knew … Kim.

He sat on a stool behind the front counter, looking handsome as ever. Damn it, just what I needed to see first thing in the morning.

“G’mornin’, Emily.”

The sound of his voice was almost enough to make me cry, but I forced myself to remain calm as I walked past him. “Um, is there a reason why you’re here?”

I went into the storeroom and tucked my purse away along one of the cubbies. I heard him get up and follow after me.

“As a matter of fact, there is.” He leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets and maybe I was imagining it, but he looked kind of sad. “I wanted to apologize for firing you, and if you say no, I’ll understand, but I want to ask if you’d consider taking your former position back?”

Kim Barrett apologizing?

I turned to face him, forcing my eyes to meet his and praying that I could keep my voice and expression calm. “Are you serious? Do you really think that either one of us could handle working so close together after … well, you know.”

His jaw visibly tightened, leaving me with a hollow sense of satisfaction as he looked away. He seemed to consider his answer before responding. “Emmie, the Inn needs you.  You’re the only one who can handle all the housekeeping staff. The client’s prefer dealing with you because you’ve developed a professional relationship with them and they trust you, and I need someone I can depend on to help keep things running smoothly.”

“So this is merely a professional offer, right? Because I might as well be up front with you and say that there can’t be any more personal matters coming between us if this is going to work; you have your life and I have mine, and what happens there is off limits.”

His face lit up with what looked like a relieved smile. “Oh, definitely. Strictly professional all the way.”

I reminded myself that I handled his obnoxious behavior before we’d started dating, and I could certainly do it again. “When do I start?”

“This morning? By say, ten?”

“Okay, on the stipulation that if things don’t work out you give me the customary two weeks notice and severance pay.”

“Severance pay?”

Hey, after being fired by two separate employers in the same week I’ve learned a thing or two. “I want it in writing before I report to the office. Take it or leave it.”

For a moment I thought I might have overplayed my hand, but Kim seemed to see the logic in my demand. Either that or else I had him by the balls.

“Okay, then. Be prepared to deal with the vendors from Quebec and it’s also going to be your responsibility to field any dealings that might come up with that FBI bloke, Agent Cooper.”

I grinned as I brushed past him and went back out front to pour myself a cup of coffee. “Okay, deal. Now, I like to have a few minutes to myself before the other clerks arrive so I’m going to ask you to lock the door behind you.”

He gave a look of surprise, perhaps not expecting to be so casually dismissed. I felt the tension building again, but then he merely shrugged and went towards the door.

“Um, I guess I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

I watched as he left, not daring to breathe until he locked the door and moved out of sight.

BEN
           
Nine AM and I rolled over, reached for Tracy again and she laughed.

“Damn, Ben. You really don’t want to go in to the station today, do you?”

“That ain’t it, darlin’. Just wanna do this one more time. Come on. Again, sweetheart.”

“You’re crazy and you’re avoiding. What are you so afraid of down there?”

“I ain’t afraid of nothing’,” I grunted, sat up and pushed back my hair. Why do women know so much? Dammit. I dropped my head back. 

“Is it Officer De La Croix? Or is it the murder investigation? Or is it Agent Cooper?”

“That one. That goddamn Cooper’s drivin’ me crazy.”

“He’s investigating a thirty year old murder.” She nuzzled close and I hugged her. “He’s just doing his job. He can’t expect you to know much, he knows you haven’t lived in Vermont that long. Even if your records say you did …” she beamed a wicked grin. “Maybe we should tell him who you really are. He might back off if he knew that a real, bonafide nineteenth-century outlaw was running Stowe.”

“You’re a wicked little one, Tracy Pinkerton. Speaking of that, we gotta do somethin’ to change that name of yours.”

“Marry me,” she sighed, licking the corner of my lips.

“How about Saturday?” It was a running joke, we been playin’ it for two weeks now and finally this Saturday was gonna be the day. Me, tyin’ the knot. We didn’t tell no one, decided to do it quiet, just the two of us and the judge. But knowin’ this town, the news will reach Riley before we even get back to the Inn. “You got some time Saturday mornin’ darlin’?”

“I think I can manage that,” she purred like a cat.

I reached over for a handful of delicious breast when there was a knock. Pulled on my britches and stomped to the door.

“Sheriff Wade. Would you and your lovely lady care to join me for breakfast this morning?” It was that damn Agent Cooper, smilin’ and looking like a fuckin’ undertaker. He looked at my bare chest and cleared his throat. “That is, if you’re not too busy. I can just meet you at the station. Ten sharp.”

I thought he’d leave but Tracy piped up from the bedroom. “We’d love to have breakfast with you, Agent Cooper. We’ll meet you in the dining room downstairs in ten minutes!”

“Wonderful!”

I closed the door on his face and turned. “Now why’d you go and do that?”

Tracy just giggled and I used my ten minutes real good.

DAISY

Cory sat at the edge of the bed trying to comfort me. “Babydoll, you’re doing everything you can. The ghost of that dead narc will leave you alone as soon as this thing is solved. Trust me, it’s how they work.”

I sniffled and shrugged.

“Maybe I can get Granddad to give us some advice. He’s gotta know this dude, after all, they’re both living on the same astral plane, right?”

“No!” I grunted. The last thing I wanted was the Bad Ass Bud White messing with me now. I had my hands full with Agent Cooper demanding I ask Bob questions … and Bob just laughing at me, telling me it’s Cooper’s job to figure it all out. I’m not sure which one of them I’m more pissed at!

“Alright, I won’t ask Granddad. But honey, I gotta go, you know. I’ve got some filming to do down in Middlebury.”

“I know, I know. I’m fine. Go do your filming, don’t worry about me.”

“But I do worry about you, doll,” he tightened his vintage, hand-painted tie and plopped that hat on his head. My fifties guy was back and I felt that tingle in my belly.

“Do you really have to leave right now?” I offered with a sultry lilt and batting eyes.

“Ain’t you had enough?” he smacked my behind and grinned. “Just have to take real good care of you later. I’ll be back by dinner.” He lifted his keys and tossed them with a jungle, catching them in his hand before he gave me a wink and walked out the door.

I sighed, there are times when the fifties Cory really gets to me. Man, now I needed a cold shower.

I climbed from the shower and planned my day. I figured to run into town for a few things, maybe grab a bagel at the coffee shop then get back and check in the new bar inventory. I ordered more beer mugs. Someone’s been breaking the damn things. It wasn’t me or the day bartender, so my suspicions ran toward either Brian or Bob.

“Ain’t me,” I heard Brian’s voice and quickly wrapped the towel around myself.

“Get out of here!”

“I’m not looking. Promise.” And he chuckled. I could hear his voice drift away but I still dressed as much as possible under the big towel. Why can’t I have a normal life like everyone else, dammit?

Purse in hand I opened the door, gasped but didn’t get it closed fast enough. Agent Cooper was standing at Ben’s door and he’d just turned with his patented FBI charming smile.

“Ms. Daisy! How are you this fine Vermont morning?”

“Just peachy.” I tried to get past him in the narrow hall. Damn old buildings.

“Please, join me, Sheriff Wade and his lovely Tracy for breakfast.”

That’s when it hit me. This poor guy was far from home, all alone and dealing with a really tough case. What would it hurt to have breakfast with him? “Sure.”

The meal was pleasant but sure as hell, slipped toward Bob. “Have you asked the … spirit of the dead man … for assistance, Ms. Daisy?” Agent Cooper asked then sipped and groaned with delight. “Mmmm, damn good coffee.”

“Um … I asked him again last night. He still says it’s your job.”

“Perhaps you can ask him to guide me if I’m close?”

I shrugged. “Like if you’re hot or cold?”

“Exactly.”

“I can try.”

“And Sheriff Wade,” he turned his attention to Ben who gulped and glared.

“Yeah?”

“Perhaps today we can get someone to pull all the arrest records from the years in question.”

“Sure, De La Croix can do it.”

Tracy shot him a glare and I grunted. “Not a good idea,” I said but Ben let it slide. He’s got some serious learning to do before he’ll ever understand female cops.

“Well, we should get to it. Time is valuable.” Cooper gulped the last of his coffee and stood, walking out the door and we all looked at each other.

Ben huffed. “What’s the rush? The man’s been dead for over thirty years.”

“You’ve been dead for over a hundred,” Tracy giggled and I joined in. But I gotta say, I’m not so sure who’s feeling more out of place these days … Ben … me … or Agent Cooper.

RILEY

Nathan was settled and happy with Marla at the front desk … he’s always so good for her … so I did my rounds. First a meeting with my chefs. The kitchen was running like a well oiled machine, Andy at the helm managing everything; Chris happy as a clam to be running the staff; and Monica pleased with her duties. Everything was flowing perfectly and it looked like the food and beverage department was fit and ready for the influx when the new rooms were finished. We were booked solid through May of 2009; at least I had nothing to worry about where my kitchen was concerned.

My next issue also seemed to be solved before I even got down to Kim’s office. Emily was sitting at her desk where she belonged and that department was humming. Those two even seemed comfortable … in a strained yet controlled sort of way at least. It would work itself out. My meeting with them proved that all the other elements of opening the addition were right on schedule too, even with the construction which lost two days during the shut down to exhume a body, God sakes. Furniture and window treatments were arriving on time, additional linens had been ordered as well as every amenity the other rooms carried. Housekeeping was staffing up for the larger load and Clari had accepted the promotion for Housekeeping Manager. Another thing off my mind and I was beginning to feel a glow of success.

I trotted up to the kitchen to steal a few of Monna’s cookies then suddenly remembered what John was upstairs doing. Concern shot through my chest and I felt like I needed air. Grabbing Chef Chris’ hoody, I slid into it and ran outside. I gulped air and walked the lovely, flower lined paths. Autumn was waning, the leaves dropping fast and the spindly trees looking a little forlorn.

My mind wandered to Gerry Kennedy. What was he doing here? Although the Portal’s activity seemed random, our last dilemma where John disappeared taught me one thing. Activity might seem random but the Portal’s intentions never were. Whatever was going on was for a reason. We were supposed to help Gerry Kennedy … or he was supposed to help us. Maybe we’d never know. But I was proud of John, taking on the difficult responsibility of helping the man adjust. Life always had its twists and turns and our lives certainly had more than most. I glanced back at the Inn, looking up at my living room window on the top floor and hoping it was going well for John.

Then I realized how our family was growing in leaps and bounds. Pullo and Antony’s arrival …Max Skinner joining forces with Pullo for a vineyard here in Vermont … Maximus’ lovely Sophia giving birth to little Lucy … Lachlan and Jessie soon to have their baby … Cory and Daisy and Richie sticking around … Egan arriving with his son. And now Gerry Kennedy. Good Lord, what a wonderful large family I have.

Then I got an idea. The Inn belonged to the guests, but my apartment was my and John’s home. Maybe it was time to break through the walls and expand? Take over the whole top floor? After all, we’re planning another child and with all this family growth, I certainly needed a larger dining room for holiday get togethers. I was so excited I could hardly wait to tell John.

My phone rang and I assumed it was him, calling to tell me it was safe to come back home. I grinned and answered. “John?”

“Um, no. Riley, it’s Egan.”

“Oh, hi!” I stepped up into the gazebo, sat and tightened the hoody around me. “How are you?”

He was silent.

“Egan? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. Bloody hell, Riley … this is the toughest thing I ever did … and I’m less than twenty-four hours into it.”

I sighed. “Okay, okay. Start from the beginning.”

I heard him groan. “I signed all those papers this morning and took Jacob from that place. Riles it was terrible. The poor little bloke had nothin’ but the clothes on his back. I took him for some things, shirts, britches, underwear … a toothbrush. He had nothin’. Packed up the car and … well … we didn’t get so far.”

“Where are you?”

“Barely crossed the boarder into Oklahoma. I’m thinkin’ this may take a lot longer than expected.”

“Just take your time, Egan. There’s no hurry.”

“It’s not the time that’s got me … mental. It’s Jacob. He won’t talk to me. Won’t let me touch him. He won’t eat anything unless it comes out of a bloody MacDonald’s Happy Meal box. Jesus, Riles. Maybe I did the wrong thing. Maybe it would’ve been better to let someone more equipped adopt him.”

“Egan, let’s just think this through, alright? Jacob’s seven years old, right?”

He grunted a yes.

“You know as well as I do, at that age it won’t be easy for them to find him adoptive parents. It would be a long line of foster homes. That’s not what you want for him, is it?”

“Hell no. I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

I tried to chuckle encouragingly, my heart aching for him and his situation. “Egan,” I sighed. “None of us know what we’re doing. Raising a child is a work in progress, buddy. I have a son, you know. He came without clothes, too … of course, I didn’t need to get him a toothbrush but you get my drift, right? We all just do the best we can.”

I listened to his sigh.

“Poor Jacob has been through a lot. I don’t think he’s used to being safe and loved. It’s gonna take some time. Just do your best. When you get here you’ll have help. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. You just be gentle and patient. He’ll come around.”

“Ta, love. You always know the right things to say?”

“Hell no. Ask John. I’m a work in progress too. We can’t wait to see you. Be safe and take all the time you need. We love you both.”

JESSIE

I’ve always loved the autumn, and although some would argue that southern California only has two seasons, I never realized what I’ve been missing until we moved to Vermont. The air has a certain crispness and a lingering scent of something that I can’t quite put my finger on; if I had to describe it, I’d have to say that it evokes the images of a roaring fireplace, grinning pumpkins, caramel apples and warm peanut butter cookies.

Last night Lachlan put the finishing touch on the nursery, installing a beautiful antique doorknob made of faceted green glass. It perfectly matched the color scheme; the nursery walls are painted in pastel hues of green and yellow, with a border of dancing bunnies and teddy bears along the ceiling line. The curtains and bedding are made from matching fabric, and last week my mother ordered the delivery of a beautiful wicker rocking chair. Everything seems to be coming together so effortlessly that I actually have to find things to do to keep myself busy during the day.

Last weekend I had Lachlan repair the old clothesline in the backyard and started using it to air dry our linen bedding. I’ve taken to planning evening meals on a weekly basis; casserole on Monday, spaghetti on Tuesday, meatloaf on Wednesday, macaroni and cheese on Thursday, pot roast on Friday and lasagna on Saturday. On Sunday evenings, it’s either shepherd’s pie or grilled chicken. When I’m not cooking, cleaning or doing the laundry, I’m clipping coupons from magazines and the newspapers, ever watchful for a new and interesting recipe for ground turkey or a new way to make tuna casserole. If I’m fated to be a housewife, I may as well embrace it with both arms.

Problem is … I’m having trouble accepting this new phase of my life. I mean, okay, so Lachlan wants me to be a stay at home mom, and while I kind of liked the idea in the beginning, I can see the long stretch of my days before me, boring, predictable and mundane. Our child will be beautiful, but I’ll end up getting fat and serving on the local PTA, organizing bake sales, growing more and more distant from my husband until one day the only thing we’ll share in common is our address and combined genes. I try to explain my fears to Lach, but I might as well be talking to the wall.

I kind of lost it during dinner. The guys were sitting around discussing their plans for the new business; who were the most reliable contractors, the upcoming house auction, issues surrounding various local code compliances … you know, construction things. I tried to participate in the conversation, adding a suggestion here and there, but they continued to talk over me. I didn’t like the feeling and I pushed away from the table and the conversation only stopped as I headed upstairs to the bedroom.

A few moments later, Lachlan came after me.  “Sweetheart, is something wrong? Aren’t you feeling well?”

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him, feeling the frustration well up inside of me. “I may not know much about drywall or contract bids, but I’m not a complete imbecile, you know.”

A look of surprise came over him. “I don’t recall anyone suggesting that you were.”

“Then why don’t you include me in your conversation? You’re perfectly happy to let me cook and clean up after you, but heaven forbid I might have a suggestion or question about all the plans you’re making.”

“Jess, what are you talking about?”

“You all ignored me! I live here too, you know. Just because I stay at home and don’t get to work doesn’t mean that I’ve become invisible. I don’t like being treated that way!”

Damn hormones got the best of me just then and I started to cry. Lachlan gave a sigh and sat down beside me, taking my hand in his.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry that you ended up feeling that way tonight. Dinner was wonderful as always, and I really appreciate all you’re doing. I know you miss working, but in a few weeks you’ll be too busy to do half the stuff you’re doing right now, and I won’t expect you to. You’re being too hard on yourself.”

I leaned into him and he placed his arm around my shoulder. “You really don’t have to cook dinner for us every night, you know. You’re spoiling us rotten. We’re all perfectly capable of taking turns cooking dinner or fending for ourselves. We could even order out if you’d like for a change.”

“Really?”

He chuckled softly and leaned in for a kiss. “Really. Now you just lay back take it easy for the rest of the evening. The guys and I want head out to Old Maulder’s for a pint and to talk shop, and when I come home, I’ll rub your shoulders and we can make plans for the weekend, just the two of us.”

“To do what?”

“Anything you’d like.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

I smiled and gave him a big hug. So okay, maybe there are a few perks to this housewife thing after all.

SAMANTHA

I found it strange how Sheriff Wade panicked when he was asked to accompany Agent Cooper to the crime scene. Granted, there’s always a bit of rivalry between local law enforcement and the Feds, but this went beyond the normal discomfort; I may be out of line in suggesting this, but it seems as if the Sheriff hasn’t much of a clue about a lot of things where his job and this department are concerned. I’ve come across a few narrow minded individuals with definite opinions about a woman’s place in law enforcement, but it’s mostly been at the hands of my peers. To serve under a man who’s as unfamiliar with basic legal protocol as Ben Wade fills me with some grave concerns.

But I was willing to overlook yesterday’s discomfort and arrived at work filled with confidence. After all, I had pretty much fielded the most pressing questions from Agent Cooper, saving the Sheriff the embarrassment of looking as if he wasn’t properly equipped to do his job. Surely I’d be rewarded with something a little more challenging for the day’s assignment; traffic detail perhaps?

Only my name wasn’t on the assignment roster. So okay, this was simply some kind of mistake or oversight, but when I questioned the Watch Commander, he shrugged his shoulders and pointed his thumb towards the Sheriff’s office.

“Yer gonna have to speak to the boss about it.’

Fine. Roster clenched tightly in hand I marched over and planted myself in his office doorway.

“Sir, I need to discuss the matter of this assignment roster. It seems that …”

He didn’t let me finish. “Oh, mornin’, Officer De La Croix. Do you suppose you could go and fetch me a cup of coffee?”

I was dumbfounded. “Sir?”

Just then his phone rang and he waved me off before reaching to answer.

I stood there for a moment longer, still too stunned to move or speak. Okay, if he wanted coffee, then I’d get him coffee.

Served black, with sixteen packets of sugar. When I came back to his office he had finished his phone conversation and I grabbed my chance. “Sir, I’ve noticed that I’m not on the duty roster this morning. I’d like to request traffic detail.”

He stood up and came around to face me, smiling as he reached for his coffee. “Do you think you can handle something like traffic detail all by yourself? From my experience, women get a bit excitable when handling that kind of pressure.”

What happened next is still a little hazy, but suffice to say, I sure do love my steel toed service boots. I don’t think Sheriff Wade was feeling quite as fond of them, however. He was still limping at the end of the day.

LACHLAN

The pub; a place of refuge for married men when they need a temporary break from domestic bliss. Kim seemed surprised when we asked him to come along, but I reckoned he could benefit from a bit of male bonding after his fiasco with Emily and the now infamous PonyGirl. We spotted Richie Roberts over towards the back of the pub and he waved us over to join him.

“Mate, did she really wear a saddle?” Mitchell let go a giggle and Barrett closed his eyes as if in pain.

“No, she wore a black catsuit and the saddle was, well, for me.”

“No shit?” I tried to imagine a visual but only ended up choking on my beer. “And I suppose the riding crop was simply for encouragement? Where did you meet this sheila?”

Mitchell giggled again. “He found her online.”

Kim groaned. “Oh bloody hell.”

“Well, that’s a relief of sorts. I was beginning to think that Stowe was being overrun by an S&M crowd,” I teased.

Richie shook his head, eyeing one of the barmaids who kept glancing over our way. “That doesn’t necessarily have to indicate a bad thing.”

Antony joined us from the far corner of the bar, beer in hand he dragged a chair close and grunted. “Salvo, friends. What are we talking about?”

“Women with saddles,” grunted Matt.

“Ah, equestrian beauties?”

“Not quite,” I laughed. “Barrett hooked up with a woman wanting to saddle him, ride him hard and put him away wet.”

The Roman general snorted. “In my day, a woman with a saddle was bringing it to me, polished, buffed and ready for battle.”

“Not today, now they mount and whip a man, right Kim?” Richie laughed.

I pressed for more details. “So, was it any good?”

Matt grinned. “This from the happily married newlywed.”

“Hey, I’m just conducting some informative research. I may be married, but I’m not dead.”

“Taking notes for when you get home tonight?”

Everyone laughed and I had to chuckle along with ‘em. “I’ve no complaints, gentlemen.”

Mitchell picked up where I left off. “So spill, Kim. Was it all it was cracked up to be … I mean, the mess that came afterward and all that?”

We all waited, but were unprepared for Kim’s answer.

“Nothing happened.”

Richie groaned.  “Get outta here.”

Kim looked around as we leaned in closer. “I was too drunk to … you know.”

I had to know. “Would you have gone through with it if you hadn’t passed out?

Kim shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t seem to matter either way.”

A voice called out to us from near the entrance of the pub and we all turned to look.

“Hey, there’s Biebe. Who’s that tall bloke that’s with him?”

Kim squinted. “He looks kinda familiar.”

Bloody hell; it couldn’t be. No, considering all the crazy things that have happened over the past several weeks, it seemed that the Portal was sending yet another newcomer for us to look after. I remembered this bloke from a movie Jessie made me watch a couple of nights ago. The fella with a Scottish accent who was born and raised in Ireland …

JOHN

“Well, would you lookit this!” I laughed as I led Gerry into Old Maulders. The guys all looked at us and I dragged chairs close. “Gerry, meet your brothers.” I ordered beers and relaxed. This was good for Gerry. He needed to see that we’ve all survived the same thing he will, poor dude.

“So, what’s new at the Inn, mate?” Mitchell grinned and I shrugged.

“Fuckin’ Riles … what?” They’d all broken into laughter.

“Griping about women is the theme of the evening,” Richie snorted. “What’s the lovely Queen Biebe done now?”

“Whoa!” Lachlan warned. “Don’t let her be hearin’ ya call her that. What’s she done?”

I rolled my eyes, took a deep gulp of beer. “She wants to break out the walls, take over the whole top floor.”

“How many kids is she planning?” Kim gasped. I can’t believe everyone knows we’re planning another baby.

“It’s not that. She’s worried about entertaining this family. She wants a dining room big enough for a custom made table that seats twenty, God sakes.”

“Sounds like a bloody ballroom,” chuckled Mitchell

I snorted. “You know Riles. She’s looking forward to those big holiday dinners with the family … which keeps getting bigger and bigger.”

“Sorry,” Gerry grumped and the table again exploded with laughter. How long have they been drinking?

“Don’t worry about it,” I said as my cell started ringing. The readout said Terry and I stood before I answered, heading further away from the noise, almost to the back door. If I had to, I could slip out into the alley to hear him. “Terry, how are you?”

“John, I got some bloody bad news, mate.”

“O’Brien?” Visions of a mangled car on the racetrack soared through my head.

“No. There’s been a fire … in Maine. It’s bad, John. I need you like now. We’ll fly up to Maine together. They’ll need us both.”

“Jesus Chirst,” I rushed back toward the table. “How bad?”

“Bad, just get to the private airstrip near the Burlington airport. I’m climbing onto the Cessna right now.”

“On my way.” I slammed the phone shut and swallowed the rest of my beer. Fuck, I needed it.

“On your way where?” Lachlan asked.

“There’s trouble … in Maine. Terry and I are flying up there. Richie, get Gerry back to the Inn.”

“Will do.”

Antony stood and followed me. “I’ll come with you, John.”

For some reason, that was really comforting.

Driving to Burlington I took several deep breaths and dialed Riley. “Baby, something bad has happened, I don’t have the details but I’m going to Maine with Terry.”

“Oh dear God.”