too tired to stand. Then this last week… okay, I whined, not to Miles, to Dr. Raines-my good friend Sheila-in Jessborough. She can take it. She told me lots of things that just depressed me more. She just ended up telling me to be patient, that it’ll take time to settle in, and metaphorically patted me on the head.
“As you know, I’m on a leave of absence from the Jessborough Sheriff’s Department. And that puts Wade temporarily in charge, and that’s okay, don’t get me wrong, but-” Katie shrugged, sighed, and continued after clearing her throat once, then again. “Sorry. Of course, both kids started back to school a week and a half ago. Sam was a hero to his classmates. Unfortunately, Keely’s a year behind Sam, but she appears to be doing okay. She misses her friends in Jessborough, but she has Sam and that makes up for it. Sam’s included her with all his friends, and since he’s the big dog among the first-graders, she’s in. It’s still early, we’ll see. That leaves lots of hours in- between to fill up, hours I never before even dreamed existed.”
“Katie-”
“Okay, okay, don’t hit me. Here’s the bottom line for me, Sherlock: I’ve got to do something real, something worthwhile-”
“Now you’re going to preach to me about compromise.”
“Fact is, you’ve got to compromise to have a good marriage, and sometimes that’s so sucky I want to yell.”
“Yeah, yeah. All right, I’ll talk to him about it, but not yet. He’s working really hard right now.”
Sherlock nodded. “Tell me what else Dr. Raines said.”
“Wade is doing fine as acting sheriff. She says everyone misses me and asks when I’m coming back. All I can say is ‘ We’ll see.’ ”
Katie started shaking her head. “I was even studying a cookbook yesterday.” She sighed. “It’s so stupid really, but I never thought about what would happen two weeks after we got married, or a month, or a year, or anything. It was just the right thing to do and I didn’t consider, you know, what exactly would come after the wedding. I never once wondered how it would be not to have the sheriff’s job, to be living in a place I didn’t know, not the streets, not the shops, not the people.
“Sorry, I’m whining again. Damn, sometimes it’s really hard to be an adult.”
“That’s the truth,” Sherlock said. “No honeymoon in sight?”
“Miles has been working his butt off at the plant. He says there’s lots to be done, what with contract issues still unresolved, design problems with the helicopter guidance system, stuff like that. He’s missed dinner three times this past week.”
“Hmm,” Sherlock said again. “Katie, you guys are going to have to talk about this, you know. Oh, quick, look at that Frisbee throw Miles just made to Sam.”
Katie twisted about to see the Frisbee floating toward Sam, watched Sam leap a good foot into the air and snag it. She heard Miles and Dillon laugh. She wondered what they were talking about. Was Miles talking about her to Dillon? Saying the same things about his life that she’d been saying to Sherlock?
Savich was saying to Miles as they both watched Sam leap into the air and curl his fingers around the edge of the Frisbee to bring it in, “I’ve just about given up on the Redskins this year.”
Miles said, “Yeah, it’s hard to even turn the games on anymore, it’s so depressing. I have this gut feeling about the Raiders, though, we’ll see. Wasn’t that catch something? Sam’s nearly Olympic with the Frisbee. I’ve been playing with him since he was three.”
“I thought I’d start Sean in six months or so. I’m also thinking the Patriots might make it to the big game. Does Katie like football?”
“You know, I don’t have the foggiest idea what my wife thinks about football. That first Sunday we just relaxed, what with no Beau or Clancy to worry about, took the kids for pizza and ice cream and fell into bed at nine o’clock. We’ll see if she perks up at kick-off time tomorrow.”
“Hey, Sean, come back here!”
Savich was off, scooping up his son, swinging him over his head, letting his shrieks of laughter flow over him.
Miles said to Savich once he’d trotted back, Sean under one arm, “I sure like the sound of your Porsche engine. You get it tuned up recently?”
“Oh yeah. God’s creation gets checked if it hiccups once. Sounds really good, huh?”
“You know it does. Sherlock was telling me that Sean loves that car, that you’ve promised to give it to him when he’s eighteen.”
“Yep, I did.”
“By that time the Porsche will be in a museum.”
Savich grinned. “How about that? Hey, all you’ve got left from McCamy is just a faint line down your cheek. It looks like it just might stay with you.”
Miles touched his face. “A good thing. It’ll fit my image.”
Savich smiled. “How’s Cracker dealing with your marriage?”
“Oh, she’s fine with it. She’s always a brick. No problem at all.”
Savich wondered if Miles really didn’t have a clue as to his sister-in-law’s feelings for him, or if he was just in denial. He sincerely doubted that Cracker was a happy camper with another woman in the house and this one Miles’s wife.
Suddenly, they heard a shot, sharp and clear in the still air, not at all close. It was up ahead, near Katie and Sherlock.
For a brief instant they both froze, then Miles whirled about. “Oh, damn! What’s happening?”
Savich yelled, “Sherlock, Katie, gunfire! Hurry, get down!”
“Savich, get Sean behind that tree! I’ll get the kids!”
There were two more shots in rapid succession, closer to them.
Savich would swear that he felt the heat of that second bullet as it tunneled past his head before he dropped to his knees behind a huge oak tree, Sean clutched against his chest. Sean was crying and his father was shaking so badly he couldn’t do anything except rock his boy, holding him close, trying to cover every bit of him with his body.
He saw Sherlock crouched down behind a square garbage receptacle some thirty feet beyond them, looking all around, waiting. Katie was on her hands and knees, her cell phone out.
He heard a car door slam, but couldn’t see where. He whispered nonsense to Sean, heard his boy sob, felt his small body heave, pressed very tightly against his father’s body.
God, that bastard could have shot his son. He called out, “Miles?”
Miles’s voice was out of breath. “I’ve got Keely and Sam. We’re down, about twelve feet behind you. Is Sean all right?”
“Yes, just scared to his bones, like I am.”
Savich heard voices, lots of them, some screams. Not all that many people in the park, thank God, but enough.
Savich was sitting on the ground, his back against the oak tree, rocking Sean back and forth in his arms, holding him as close as he could.
Not thirty seconds later, Sherlock was in his arms, Sean sandwiched between them, and she was whispering against his chin, “Thank God you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, sweetheart.” He sounded all calm again, but he didn’t let her go.
Savich heard Katie say, even as she clutched Keely tightly against her, “Hey, Sam, that was the sort of excitement I’d hoped we’d seen the last of in Jessborough, wasn’t it? Did you dive behind a garbage can?”
“There sure are lots of bad guys, Katie,” said Sam, who was plastered against his father’s side, and blinked at her. He shook his head, “There wasn’t a garbage can close. Papa grabbed up me and Keely. We were over behind that big tree.” He paused a moment, his forehead wrinkled. “Who’s after me this time?”
“Someone who heard you were bad,” Keely said, and, bless her heart, she reached out and punched him.
