Page 1 of Homicide in Water Creek

Chapter One

The pounding on her bumper rattled Jacks’s teeth before she came to a stop. She jumped out of the car, her arms making the universal sign for ‘what the hell?’

“Can’t you see I’m driving here?” she yelled at the guy honking his horn. “You almost ripped my bumper off!” She checked the back of the car and sighed. Her left taillight was busted out, and the bumper was smashed in. At least both sides matched now.

“Get a move on it!” Mr. Harvey yelled, his words slurring slightly. “You kids and your damn phones in your pock—”

His words were cut off when she climbed back into the car and made the right turn she’d been waiting to make when Mr. Impatient had started his bump-and-honk routine. Mr. Harvey was a menace on the roads. She should drive straight to the sheriff's department and tell King to arrest him, but she wasn’t going to do that. It would require her to talk to King, something she wasn’t keen on doing any day of the week.

“Another average day for Jackson Miles,” she muttered.

Her friends called her Jacks, and her granddaddy called her Jackie. She considered herself an open book, even though she knew that wasn’t true. The truth was, she drove a car from her mother’s era, spent her days roping cattle, and occasionally warmed the bed of a guy twice her age. What? As a twenty-eight-year-old woman, she had needs. Those needs occasionally involved doing the horizontal mambo with a guy who had passed forty a couple of years earlier. Was she aware they were using each other as an emotional crutch to avoid putting themselves out there again? Yes. Was it healthy? No, but neither was getting her heart broken again.

The next question? What did her sex life have to do with where she was headed? It had everything to do with it, as she turned left into Boone’s Boneyard. A girl didn’t drive a 1972 Chevy Nova without a good mechanic. Little Suzie Green Pea was pea-soup-colored and equally smelly, but Boone kept her purring like a kitty. Occasionally, though less often lately, he managed to get under Jacks’s hood and tinker until he convinced her engine to purr, too. Boone was easy on the eyes, knew what she liked in bed, and didn’t demand they use words like ‘mutually exclusive.’ Yeah, he was the forty-something dude she’d been referring to a moment ago.

All in all, she enjoyed her life in Water Creek, Wisconsin. Just the thought of the town’s name made her shake her head. “It’s like naming a town ‘Drafty Air,’” she muttered sarcastically.

There was a creek, a few eating establishments, and a whole lot of ranches. The men of Water Creek wore Stetsons, and a few even took them off during sex. Those cowboys were a rare breed, though. All of that, along with a long line of screwed-up families, drug houses, ranches full of wannabe cowboys, and more horses than cars, summed up Water Creek. As a kid, she swore she’d leave the day she turned eighteen, but here she was, ten years later. Why did she stay? For her grandaddy. At least that’s what she told people. The real reason was far more complicated.

When Jackson Miles Senior bought a ranch in Water Creek about nineteen years ago, he had no idea he’d be bringing an extra farmhand along. At the ripe old age of forty-five, he was tasked with raising a nine-year-old girl who didn’t know where her mother had gone or why she didn’t get to go with her. When given the choice between living in Water Creek or entering the foster care system, she couldn’t climb into her grandaddy’s truck fast enough. Granted, she’d only met him twice in her life, but that was more than she’d met any of the foster care families. Sure, there were some great foster homes, but at nine, her life hadn’t been so great, so she decided to give her granddaddy a shot at it. By the time she graduated from high school, she’d changed her mind about leaving Water Creek in the rearview mirror. Instead, she and her granddaddy became business partners and turned the Double J Ranch into a million-dollar operation.

The last ten years hadn’t been a walk in the park, but she was proud of what they’d accomplished at the Double J. Despite everything that had happened, Jacks was convinced that her mother had wanted to give her a better life than she could provide. Abandoning a child while they were at school may not have been the best way to do it, but in the end, it had worked out for Jacks.

Shaking away the memories of her former life, she parked Little Suzie and swung her Levi-clad bottom through Boone’s front door. “Boone! I need another taillight!”

A man slipped between two cars, wiping his hands. “What did I tell you about yelling, Jacks?”

“Not to do it,” she answered, leaning her hip against his toolbox.

“Yet, you did it anyway.”

“Old habits are hard to break.”

He grunted and went greasy hands on hips. “Ain’t that the truth. Then again, you’re a habit I don’t want to break.”

“Don’t even think about touching me with those hands,” she said, jutting her chin at his appendages, which were more grease than flesh.

He didn’t lift them off his hips. “Why do you need another taillight? We just replaced one.”

“We did, and then Mr. Harvey decided to ram me from behind.”

“Lucky guy,” he said, eyeing her well-filled-out tank top.

“Focus, Boone.”

“Oh, I am.” He nodded appreciatively, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Men. They were like Pavlov’s dogs when a boob showed up. Wait. Did that make her a boob? Considering how her life had gone, probably.

“How much will a taillight cost me?”

“Less than a new car.”

That was always his answer. She had money, but she didn’t want to spend it on a car. She was a terrible driver and would probably total it in a week. Little Suzie already had so many dings that a few more only added to her character. She was also made of metal, not plastic. They just don’t make cars like they used to, so she didn’t want to give up a good thing. Man, she was starting to sound like she was 78 instead of 28.

“How long until you can fix it?” She threw her thumb over her shoulder toward the door. “I don’t want the sheriff after me.”

Boone snorted and rolled his eyes. “You kidding me? The sheriff has been after you for years. How bad is the light?”

“Let’s just say we should probably order another one if we’re running low.”