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Then he slams the door open and marches outside. There’s a palpable sense of relief from the deputies. They start talking to each other while I watch him walking across the parking lot. The wind doesn’t seem to affect him. He climbs into a sleek powerful-looking black sedan but he doesn’t drive away. He just sits there, face hidden behind blacked-out windows.
“What can I do for you?” the sheriff asks from the other side of the counter. “Earth to Chloe. You in there?”
I turn to face him. “Sorry, miles away. I was wondering if I could have a word if you’ve got the time?”
“Sure, come on through and take a seat.” He’s talking to me but his eyes are fixed on the car outside. I could be wrong but the look in his eyes still looks a lot like fear to me. Fear that he’s trying his best to hide. I feel like he’s forgotten me entirely.
The phone rings behind him. He jumps at the sound. That breaks the spell and he manages to look at me again. “My turn to be miles away,” he says, managing a weak smile. “Come this way and let’s talk.”
4
CHLOE
* * *
The sheriff opens the gate to let me through and I follow him to his desk, my mind still stuck on the moment that guy tucked my hair behind my ear. Why did he have to do that?
I was perfectly happy hating him for being a criminal and then he went and did that. Doesn’t help that it was the most physical contact I’ve had from a man since Gareth Bickford in fifth grade. And he was only touching me to get me out of the baby swing I’d somehow managed to wedge myself into.
The sheriff sits bolt upright in his chair, grabbing his World’s Best Sheriff mug and taking a long drink from it. I get the smell of coffee and no small amount of bourbon in the mug. I notice his hand’s shaking as he puts the mug back down.
My seat’s still warm from that guy sitting on it. I get a tingle when I realize that. A tingle I don’t want. I hate the asshole. Or at least, I’m trying to.
He acted like he had the right to look me up and down like I was nothing more than an object, a statue he was considering buying.
“You’re not busy, are you, sheriff?” I ask.
“Call me Walter,” he says, taking a pencil and turning to the next clear page on his pad. I get a sudden insane idea that he’s about to start marking me out of ten.
“Walter, you’re not too busy?”
“Always got time to help the townsfolk, as Pappy used to say when he was sheriff. That’s the job.”
“That man you were talking to, who was he?”
“None of your concern.” He says it abruptly, like a door slamming shut. I can tell I’ll get nothing else out of him. “Why?”
“He tried to steal my purse last night.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“What makes you say that? You weren’t there, were you?”
“Don’t need to be an eye witness to know that Enzo Lauria wouldn’t stoop to that level of petty crime. Not after he’s taken such a shine to you. I say what he did with your hair. You want to stay away from him.”
“Is that his name? Enzo?”
He nods. “I hear the way you’re talking about him, Chloe. Take my advice, seriously, you stay away from him.”
“I wasn’t talking any kind of way.”
“He’s a bad guy, trust me on that. I know he seems all smooth and mysterious because he’s from Chicago and you’re just a small-town girl but don’t go getting all starry-eyed. You do not want to get involved with a man like that.”
“What he’s doing here?”
“That’s confidential but take my word for it when I say you want to stay away from him. I hear you’re going on a date with my Andy tonight. He’s more your kind of kid. Stick with your own age.”
“I am?”
