AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Bad day,” she said, and bent down to pet the excited yapping dog. Cisco’s tail was wagging in a blur, and he licked Pescoli’s cheek as if he hadn’t seen her in years rather than hours. Sturgis, Dan Grayson’s black lab, climbed out of his bed and stood at her feet as well, his tail moving side to side, his dark eyes looking up at hers as if he understood. “I’m sorry,” she said, scratching him behind his ears. “Oh, buddy.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve got bad news.” Sturgis’s long tail slowed and he stared straight into her eyes as if he understood. Her heart fractured and she felt near to tears.
Hormones, she told herself... and grief. Sniffling, she straightened and found her son staring at her.
“Then it’s true,” Jeremy said. “About the sheriff?”
“Yeah, it’s true.” She cleared her throat. Willed her tears away. “He passed today.”
“Shit. I mean . . . damn . . .”
She didn’t bother saying anything about his language.
“I can’t believe it!”
She nodded in silent understanding.
Jeremy’s expression grew dark and he swore again, under his breath. Then he leaned hard against the counter where the remains of breakfast—two empty bowls and a half-eaten piece of toast left on a napkin—had spent the day.
“That bastard really killed him?” His jaw was set, reminding Pescoli of her first husband, Joe Strand, Jeremy’s father. As her son matured, he looked more and more like his dad and the funny thing was he even displayed some of Joe’s mannerisms, though he’d never really known his father, surely couldn’t remember him. They shared the same build, though Jeremy topped his father’s six-foot frame by about two inches and his features were still slightly softer than she remembered Joe’s were, but the way he threw a ball, or looked over his shoulder? Pure Joe Strand. That part didn’t bother her. No. The bad news, at least in her opinion, was that Jeremy had decided to follow in his father’s footsteps by becoming a cop. Just like his dad. Even though his father had lost his life in the line of duty.
Don’t blame Joe. You’re on the force, too. A cop’s life is all your son has ever known.
Some of the blame definitely rested on her shoulders.
Though Pescoli loved the fact that he was enrolled in school again and was thrilled that he finally seemed to have some direction, she hated the idea of him becoming a member of the police force after seeing what the dedication to protecting and serving had done to their own family.
How often had she rued her vocation? Yeah, she loved being a cop, but she’d be a fool if she didn’t admit that the stress and long hours of her job hadn’t taken their toll on parenting her kids.
And now there’s going to be another one. Oh, Lord.
“But didn’t you say he was improving?” Jeremy asked. “How could this happen?”
“I guess he was more fragile than anyone, the doctors included, realized. The doc in charge, Zingler, he’s double-checking everything,” she said but didn’t add that what really bothered her was that there were two patients who had flatlined about the same time. The first, just seconds before Grayson, happened to a patient named Donnerly who had over thirty years on Grayson. But he’d survived. Of course, he hadn’t suffered the same kind of attack as the sheriff, but Pescoli couldn’t help but wonder if the heart stoppages had happened in the reverse order, if Grayson flatlining had been the first emergency, would the hospital staff have been quicker to respond? Would he have survived? It just didn’t sit well with her.
“So, what happens now?” Jeremy wanted to know.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It’s not good down at the station. Morale is at an all-time low, and that’s saying something.” She hung up her jacket on the hall tree and noticed the snow on her boots was already melting, making puddles. “Everyone’s upset. Even Joelle isn’t interested in decorating for Valentine’s Day, which is probably a good thing, because Blackwater definitely isn’t into it.” She scowled remembering his recent edict about keeping the offices spotless and professional at all times. That would be a trick considering the drunks, suspects, informants, criminals, and general scum of the earth who were dragged through the hallways of the Pinewood County Sheriff’s Department on a daily basis. “Hopefully he’s only temporary.”
“You don’t like him because he’s taking Grayson’s job,” Jeremy pointed out.
“That’s not it. Well, not all of it.”
“I don’t think he’s all that bad.”
She glared at her son as if he’d uttered sacrilege, which he had. “You’re only there part-time. Very part-time. As a volunteer. You don’t really work for him.”
“Yet.” Jeremy caught his mother eyeing the dirty dishes on the breakfast bar and actually picked up the two bowls and placed them into the sink with the stack of ever-mounting pots, pans, and plates. Of course, he couldn’t quite seem to find the dishwasher, but, Pescoli reminded herself, baby steps.
Not that long ago, her son was adrift, playing video games all day, smoking weed on the side, and che
wing tobacco. Things were improving. He was growing up. Yeah, he still chewed. And of course, he continued to play video games, but even that had slowed down a bit and she thought his pot smoking had abated. Thinking about it, she unconsciously crossed her fingers.
As far as she could tell, Jeremy’s general “hanging out” with some of his suspect friends had tapered off and his steady girlfriend of the past few years had moved away, thank God. It had only been a few weeks, but without Heidi Brewster as a distraction, Jeremy already seemed more focused.
His job at Corky’s Gas and Go coupled with volunteering at the station kept him busy and he was talking about moving out with a friend. Again. So far, he’d bounced back after a couple half-assed attempts at living on his own. She’d already suggested that he move into the room over the garage in Santana’s new home, but Jeremy had balked. Residing in any building attached to his mother’s place of residence obviously didn’t qualify as “moving out.”
Considering her own rebellious history as a teen, she wasn’t about to argue.
He saved your life.
