It was Irish statesman Edmund Burke who said, โThose who donโt know history are destined to repeat it.โ Spanish philosopher George Santayana is likewise credited with saying, โThose who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,โ and letโs not forget Winston Churchill, who wrote, โThose that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.โ
Iโm familiar with each of those quotes, but Iโll be the first to say that Iโve never applied any of that to today. After all, itโs history, and, being born and raised in Canada, a country where Iโve never had to fight for my freedom, Iโve honestly taken my and my childrenโs freedom for grantedโuntil two weeks ago. I realized there is too much I do not know about history, but one of the beautiful things about being free is that youโre never too old to learn. So my nighttime reading lately has been history. Likely not the best thing to read to have a peaceful nightโs sleep, but education is imperative.
So where do I start? First, there are the residential schools, an atrocity perpetuated at the hands of the government against First Nations people. The horrors of those schools were exposed in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission reports, the recommendations of which have yet to be implemented. Then, in early 1942, the Canadian government detained some 21,000 Japanese Canadians under the war measures act, and those living in British Columbia were forced to live in internment camps for the rest of the Second World War. Their homes and businesses were sold by the government to pay for their detention.
If someone showed up at your doorstep to take everything you had and shove you and your family in an internment camp, what would you do? Unfortunately for Japanese Canadians, it wasnโt until 1988 that then Prime Minister Brian Mulroney apologized on behalf of the Canadian government for the wrongs it had committed against them. Apologies are good, but being able to forgive is a personal decision. Iโve always admired greatly the strength of those who have suffered and then had the ability to forgive the very people who stood by silently and did nothing to help them, the powerful people who hurt them so badly.
Iโve thought about this especially as of late, with the craziness going on, the continual shifting of the goalposts, and the narrative changing on what seems like a daily basis. Look at how easy it was for the government in history to take something that wasnโt theirs. Were the Japanese Canadians ever compensated fully for what was stolen from them? Not many will say this, but I will. It was theft. Itโs a horrible part of history and a reminder of something I heard from someone who immigrated to Canada over twenty years ago, โCanadians are wonderful, kind people, but they have one flaw: They trust their government.โ
Is history something everyone should know? Absolutely. We should all know about the atrocities of the past so they canโt happen again. We should also ask the hard, important questions no one is asking about how and why those atrocities happened to begin with. To say this has been a crazy week would be an understatement. Iโve witnessed dissension, anger, viciousness, and violations of rights that I never would have believed I would see violated in my lifetime. This mob mentality couldnโt happen without mainstream media fueling it. One of the scariest things for me is how much has changed in a very short period of time. I once stood on an overpass with other mothers, fighting for funding from the government for medically necessary autism treatment for my child. But today, if we fought the way we did then, weโd likely be arrested.
One thing I did learn from my years of fighting, sitting on the opposite side of the desk from government officials, pounding on doors, getting petitions signed, and advocating and fighting with schools, was how not to curl up in a ball and cry at all the doors that had been slammed in my face. I was not going away, was not taking the no dished out again and again at me by government officials. I learned also to ignore the friends and family who didnโt want me to stand up and make noise, because I was supposed to just be quiet, say nothing, do nothing, not bring any unwanted attention to myself or stir up, as someone said, โnonsense.โ If a group of parents hadnโt set out on that six-year legal battle together, facing all those high personal costs, my son wouldnโt be where he is today. I advocated and fought and didnโt go away and I did it for my child, for my childโs future, going up against a goliath. Someone once said you can never win against the federal government, as they have the resources to bury you. But thatโs only if you go it alone.
I was reminded repeatedly over this last week about the Canadian Constitution and the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, documents I should know inside and out. The Canadian Constitution prescribes which powersโlegislative, executive, and judicialโmay be exercised by which level of government, and it sets limits on those powers.
Iโll leave you with something Malcolm X said: โThe mediaโs the most powerful entity on earth. They have the power to make the innocent guilty and to make the guilty innocent.โ Media has the power to influence the minds, ideas, behaviors, and attitudes of the masses.
“Really Hits Home!…a powerful message that will provoke feelings of outrage and despair over a very broken system of injustice.” โ โ โ โ โ Catlou, Kindle Customer
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Sometimes I wonder where my son comes up with stuff. He asked me not long ago if I was aware that the guy running the country here, and weโll leave his name out, is trying to pass a law so that the government can basically take and use the money in your bank account. I guess this is called a bail-in law. My response was to stare at him, wondering if heโd lost his mind and was messing with me. โYeah, thereโs no way,โ I replied. โAnd why would they do that?โ
He pointed out to me that this is already in Greece, and other countries are following. So I stared at him, wondering why he drops these little bombs on me at timesโlikely because he figures heโs smarter than me. After thinking about it a little too long, I told him I would look into it. I know very little about the massive legislation than can happen with the flick of a pen behind the scenes. You know why? Because Iโm writing books, marketing them, and doing the tons and tons of work that goes into selling them so I can make money to feed my kids and keep a roof over our heads! It basically comes down to trust, not wondering what harebrained thing is going on behind the scenes. I assumed it was โfake news,โ a term I hear from too many places and have found myself unfortunately assuming as a go-to as of late.
But on looking into what my son had said, I discovered a lot more than I wanted to know. There it was, sure enough:
With a bank bail-in, the bank uses the money of its unsecured creditors, including depositors and bondholders, to restructure their capital so it can stay afloat. โฆ A bank can undergo a bail-in quickly through a resolution proceeding, which provides immediate relief to the bank.
In other words, bail-ins will not add to the governmentโs deficit. It will simply allow banks and financial institutions at risk of failing to take some of your deposits to bail themselves out. โฆ If they become insolvent and a disaster strikes, it would trigger orderly liquidation authority โ essentially a bail-in.
And here is another fact: Governments have a history of needing more than their citizensโ tax money to pay their bills, and if the situation is bad enough, they donโt shy away from targeting your personal assets.
Does that leave you with a warm and fuzzy feeling, as it did me? It certainly had me saying a few choice words as my son walked away, having brought me out of my happy place with the thought that my money, which Iโve worked my ass off for, could just be taken. It left me with a really uncomfortable feeling. Anyone who knows history, and Iโll be the first to admit that thereโs too much I donโt know yet should, knows that history teaches us that unprecedented causes lead to unprecedented consequences.
Speaking of history, who should be your go-to, your parents, your grandparents? I had a conversation with my elderly mother yesterday about the 1930s, the depression, and asked her, โHey, what really happened during that time?โ One thing many have forgotten is that in the 1930s, the US president confiscated everyoneโs gold savings under penalty of imprisonment and heavy fines. He paid everyone $20.67 per ounce of gold he confiscated. Then, after all the gold was collected, he immediately increased the price to $35, dropping the purchasing power of all Americansโ cash holdings by nearly 40% literally overnight. Then gold was illegal to own or possess until the early 1970s.
During this chat with my mother, she replied, โOh, yeah, I guess that did happen.โ But then, my grandparents had a farm and six children, and they grew their own food and raised pigs, chickens, so they were okay. If you didnโt have your own farm and werenโt self-sufficient, it was a hard time.
With all the crazy shit going on everywhere, on top of the little bomb of information my son dropped, I found myself going back to a blog post I wrote a few years back. Remember the blog โWhere focus goes, energy goesโ? People fear what they donโt understand and hate what they canโt conquer, and let me tell you, it is so easy to go to the doom and gloom when the world is focusing on that. Take one thing at a time, and focus on that one thing when you feel yourself getting overwhelmed.
When I wrote that post, I had an incredible amount coming at me, and right now, with the craziness going on and what seems to be a mob mentality and panic taking over, I think itโs more important than ever to look after yourself and your family first. Remember that if you allow yourself to listen to hysteria, panic, and the big picture of all the problems out there, you can spend your day so wound up, terrified and filled with the poison of anxiety, worry, and fear. What comes out of fear is anger, and it is human nature to be angry at someoneโyou know, to play the blame game.
Dial it in and keep your focus forward. Work on what you can fix and do, and remember to look after yourself first before you help someone else. When you keep your focus forward, thatโs where your energy goes. Either you can become a product of the negative mob mentality environment or you can take that negative and make it a positive. As for my son, Iโm sure next week heโll toss out something else, but if thereโs one thing I do know, itโs that history has taught us a lot, and we need to learn from the mistakes of the past so we donโt repeat them.
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Happy weekend, all! It’s Preview Friday, and I’ve got your sneak peek at the next Billy Jo McCabe mystery, THE STRANGER AT THE DOOR! This upcoming title will be released at the end of the month, but you can pre-order your copy AND read the first five chapters here today. Enjoy & have a wonderful weekend!
โYou given any thought to redoing this office and really making it yours? You know, putting your own stamp on it?โ Billy Jo was sitting in a padded old chair, her bare feet in flip-flops up on his desk, and he thought she wore pink nail polish on her toes. Something about the bellbottom blue jeans and light peach blouse she wore, which even hinted that she was a girl, had him wondering what was different about her as of late.
He looked around the glassed-in office, with its old desk covered in papers and files, the cabinet behind him, and the computer, and he gestured from where he lounged in the black swivel chair, which had once been the chiefโs. โItโs just an office, Billy Jo, and it is mine. I donโt need anything fancy.โ
She shot him a look from across the desk, where she seemed to fit so well, lounging. They had settled into a routine that was both welcome and expected, with her stopping in after work every day. โWell, at least paint it,โ she said. โWhat are all those plaques up there on the wall? Is that a baseball back there? And those old photos, Mark, youโve got to take those down.โ She gestured to them, unsmiling. This was the snarky side of Billy Jo that came out when she had something to say.
He had to fight the urge to smile. She was so familiar. He didnโt turn around to see the black and white photos on the wall of the young chief, then a new cop, standing with the old chief heโd later replaced and the council. Heโd personally never met any of them. He stood up and reached for one, seeing a smile on the face of the old chief, one he never remembered seeing, and looked over to Billy Jo, taking in her blue eyes. He was doing his damnedest to figure out where to tread with her and how this thing he couldnโt put a name to worked between them.
โFine. Iโll box this up, but Iโm not painting. You want to do it, be my guest. Since youโre just sitting there, take a look at these.โ He reached for a pile of applications and resumes for the new deputy position and dumped them on the desk in front of her with a thunk. In the bullpen outside, Carmen, who wore blue jeans and a faded black T-shirt, was really pulling double duty since they were down to just the two of them. He missed having Gail to answer the phones and do all she had done to keep the station running.
โSo what are these?โ Billy Jo reached for the pile of papers as she dropped her feet to the ground.
He realized, as he looked at her brown hair, that it appeared the layers had been freshly cut. Something about her seemed so different, so not the girl hiding behind frumpy clothes. He walked around the desk, watching the way she thumbed through the papers, the way her brow knit when she was focused, reading and absorbing something, the way she never hesitated to jump in. She was so damn smart that her opinion on everything mattered to him more than he could have explained to anyone.
โResumes, applications for the deputy job, someone to answer the phones and do everything Gail did. The top of the pile there was sent over by the council, and see all the ones with a red star marked on top? The council has pretty much ordered me to hire one of them. The ones on the bottom are the ones I found and came across.โ
She flicked those blue eyes up to him, reading between the lines and knowing what he was thinking without him having to say another word. This was the comfortable relationship they were morphing into.
He kept walking out the open door and over to the corner by Gailโs old desk, where a few boxes were stacked for recycling. He took in Lucky, who was curled up, asleep, before he reached for a box and walked back across the bullpen. Carmen was hanging up the phone, and
her chair squeaked as she stretched and started closing up files. She lifted her gaze to him, her wary dark eyes tracking him, and he found himself stopping beside her desk.
โYou get todayโs report finished?โ he said.
She opened her laptop without a word and gestured to the screen as if she expected him to check her work. He didnโt look at her screen, not pulling his gaze from her, still holding the box and waiting, so she pulled in a breath and said, โWas about to email it to you. Theft at the pharmacy of a bunch of back-to-school supplies, some drinking in the park, public indecency, and a lot of nuisance crap that would seem to indicate an alarming rise, except it seems most troublemakers were used to the times Chief Shephard had me run the same route, so that tells me everyone had their watches set to when I would be making the rounds like clockwork, and it was only the idiots who were getting caught. Now I canโt drive anywhere without seeing something, and there isnโt enough of me going around to do anything. Then there are all the noise complaints, parties, loud music, neighbors fighting, and the bylaw crap still tossed this way, from illegal camping to people living in their cars, and where am I supposed to tell them to go?โ
He could see her frustration. โDo what you can. Itโs a judgement call. Send me the report, and Iโll see what I can take off your plate until I get a deputy hired in here.โ
She sat up and swiveled her chair around. โWell, wonโt be soon enough for me, Markโsorry, Chief.โ
There was something odd about being called Chief. He wondered if heโd ever get used to it.
โClock out and go have some dinner,โ he said. โIโm going to be here awhile yet.โ
Carmen yanked her desk drawer open and pulled out her keys, and Mark walked back to his office, where Billy Jo was reading through the stack of applications. Damn, she was too perfect. He had to remind himself how easily he could sabotage the good things in his life.
โYou look nice, in case I forgot to mention it,โ he said as he rested the box on his desk. โYou did something new with your hair.โ
She suddenly stilled. Right, she didnโt take compliments at all. From the way she flicked those sharp blue eyes to him, he could tell she was uncomfortable, and he waited for her to toss something snarky his way.
โHere. You picked the ones on the bottom?โ she said. Okay, so she was going to ignore the compliment. That was one way not to handle it. She pulled out two papers and held them out to him, and he reached for them, seeing two names, Mike Schneider and Georgette Hunter.
โThat was quick,โ he said. โWhy these two and not the starred ones favored by the council?โ
She neatened the pile of papers and then leaned back in the chair, balancing them on her lap. โWell, for one, it would take a fool not to see that of the council picks, most are either their friends or relatives or, as with these first two, have more experience than you, so the council is likely looking for your replacement, someone who is going to do exactly what they say, report to them, and take all their directions directly. I happen to know that after every weekly meeting you have with the councillors, a few of them criticize you, complaining and commenting that youโre going to ruin the policing on the island.โ
He stared at her as he pulled the black and whites off the wall and tucked them into the box. โExcuse me?โ he said. What was she hearing that he wasnโt? She didnโt even smile, and he could see she was dead serious. โAre you shitting me? Who in all hell is talking out of turn? What goes on in the council is confidential, yet now youโre telling meโฆโ
โYouโre stepping on toes, Mark.โ
He straightened and could feel the alpha fighting inside him. His first instinct as he took in the seriousness staring back at him was to walk out the door and knock on the door of the head of council, Mary Jane Trundell, or maybe Hal Green or Herb Walker, so he could go toe to toe with them and find out what the fuck they thought they were doing, sharing anything about what went on in the council.
โI can tell by your face that youโre ready to go a round with one or all of them,โ she said, โbut that would be a mistake. Iโm not sure how many are furious, but I know Herb Walker has been the most vocal, and I heard Hal Green was talking about how you donโt play ball with the Rotary Club. Several have said Mary Jane isnโt happy with you and the fact that youโre going all cowboy with your policing.โ She lifted the stack and settled them on his desk as she leaned forward.
His jaw slackened as he rested both hands on the edge of the box and squeezed, then lifted his hand and dragged it over his jaw roughly. โAre you sure? They said I was a cowboy, seriously? Is that because I outright refused to allow the council to dictate to me which crimes to ignore and which to put my focus on? Did you know we currently have more than three dozen people sleeping in their cars on the island because they canโt put a roof over their head? The council has ordered me to make sure they know they canโt park anywhere overnight, which means basically kicking them off the island.
โThen we had three driving without a license. One was a young mother who couldnโt have afforded bail or the license renewal fee, and I knew that, so I let her off with a warning and told her to park and pay the fee, but the council ordered me to charge her and lock her up. If I do, she wonโt get out until she goes before a judge, and then sheโll be hit with another fine she wonโt be able to afford, so sheโll still be locked up, and her kids will be tossed in the social services system.
โOf the other two I stopped, one shithead had lost his license for driving two times over the legal limit, and he refused a breathalyzer, yet his lawyer had him out before the ink was dry, citing that he was on pain meds and wasnโt drinking. That was a load of crap, considering the alcohol on his breath could have knocked me over. He just so happens to be a cousin of Herb Walker.
โThe other was a snotnosed teenager who took his momโs BMW for a joy ride. The family is from Seattle, and the dad is some tech giant with a summer home here worth millions. You know that kid laughed when Carmen pulled him over? Heโd almost run down an elderly woman on one of those mobility scooters. When Carmen yanked him out of the car, he screamed at her to keep her dirty half-breed hands off him and said his dad would make sure she was fired and would pay for it.โ
Billy Jo said nothing. Mark had refused to back down when it came to how the council felt they could tell him to police this island: kid gloves with some and paramilitary tactics with others.
โYeah, I heard about that too,โ she said with a hint of a smile. โWasnโt it Mary Jane whose phone was ringing with a call from the dad, who apparently contributed largely to her campaign? He threatened that he had enough clout to redirect infrastructure funding from the island to another region and halt the upgrade of the water treatment plant, meaning the tax bills of every full-time island resident would be hiked to cover the cost. That would get Mary Jane voted out, so I heard she folded like a deck of cards under the pressure. And you did what?โ
โI charged the privileged little shit,โ he said, โalthough it didnโt do any good. The DA has already thrown it out, calling me and chewing out my ass. But I made it clear to good old dad, who showed up here, breathing down my neck, that heโs to keep his kid off the island, and if ever again we have a problem with him, a video of his racist diatribe will be all over the news.โ
She lifted her brows, leaned back, and crossed her feet on his desk, and he wasnโt sure if she was amused. โYou have a video?โ
He reached for the baseball and the plaques and shoved them in the box. โNo, but he doesnโt know that. Anyway, I ordered a body camera for Carmen, and sheโll wear it. The council will freak, mind you, when they get the bill, but Iโm not having her credibility shredded because of some privileged kid who gets a free ride and thinks he can do anything he wants without consequence. Because her word wonโt count against his if shit hits the fan.โ He knew he was shoving everything in the box a little harder than necessary. โAs far as Hal Green, I reminded him of all the tickets he had the chief write off for him over the years and let him know I have a copy of every one of them, including his emails to the chief telling him to take care of it.โ
Her expression was unreadable. โI thought you didnโt keep any of the chiefโs insurance, the dirt he had on the council,โ she said. โYou said you didnโt want to operate that way.โ
Mark shrugged, thinking of the files in the bottom drawer, the proof of how Herb Walker had dipped into the funding for the island homeless, the tickets for Hal Green, and the photos of the head of the council herself, Mary Jane, with Philip Maddox, the reason the chief was no longer the chief. โIf those running things actually played by the rules, I guess you and I wouldnโt be having this conversation,โ he replied. โDidnโt say I would use them, but Iโd be stupid to throw them out.โ
She nodded. โHeard you eventually paid the license renewal fee for Harley Peters, too,โ she said. โWord gets around that you canโt help being a good guy, Mark.โ
He only grunted. Aggressive prosecution against a woman who just couldnโt afford her license didnโt sit right with him. โSheโs got kids, no support, and her job barely pays her a living wage.โ
Billy Jo lifted her hands. โHey, you donโt need to justify it to me. I get it, Mark, and Iโm behind you. Iโm just saying that the council doesnโt like being backed into a corner, and they especially donโt like having a chief they canโt control, so youโll need to watch your back. Now, those two, you should call them.โ She gestured to the two resumes sheโd pulled out, Georgette Walker and Mike Schneider. One was from Salem, the other from Olympia. โAnd Iโm starving, so how much more do you have to do?โ
He took in the box, the girl, and the resumes on his desk. โTons, but itโll keep.โ He reached for the pile of resumes and tossed them on top of the box. โFor dinner, how about steak?โ
She shrugged and stood up. โYouโre cooking?โ She reached for her bag, and he took in the curves she was no longer hiding.
โYeah. Iโll throw steaks on the grill, and you can go through the rest of these resumesโฆโ He lifted the box and started out of his office, following her.
โAnd the box?โ She gestured back to him as he flicked off the light with his elbow and whistled to Lucky, who was now up and striding to the door.
โIโll drop it off at the chiefโs,โ he said. โAs you pointed out, these are his things.โ
She pulled open the door.
โLock it, will you?โ he said. โThe keys are in my pocket.โ
She hesitated only a second before reaching into his pocket, a touch he hadnโt expected, and she pulled the keys out. He strode to his Jeep and opened the back to stuff the box in, then grabbed the papers and pulled open the front door.
Billy Jo tossed him the keys, which he caught one-handed, before starting to her new Nissan Rogue. She would just follow him to his place, he knew, and he considered for a second this relationship theyโd fallen into. Her place or his place didnโt matter. It was always dinner, talking, and then he or she would leave. Maybe tonight he could figure out a way to change her mind and get her to stay.
Chapter 2
Mark turned the steaks on the grill and sprinkled on more seasoning. Billy Jo was carrying on a conversation with Lucky, and he couldnโt help smiling at how his dog listened more to her than him at times.
โHere, put this on and heat it up,โ Billy Jo said, handing him a small skillet with broccoli and butter to sautรฉ. He wondered where that had come from, but then, his fridge seemed to be stocked more and more with real food he knew she was responsible for. โThose potatoes done?โ
He used the tongs to turn two baked potatoes wrapped in tin foil. Cooking was something he didnโt normally do, and all he could think was that his domestication had come out of nowhere. โShould be. So, you give any thought to what we talked about?โ
She stood right beside him, and he looked down at her, taking in how cute she was. She never flirted with him, ever, and he didnโt think sheโd even know how if she tried. She just stared at him and gestured to the broccoli sizzling in the butter. โDonโt let that burn.โ
He flipped the broccoli and moved it around the frypan on the grill. She was still standing there. โYou know, Billy Jo, itโs not lost on me that when youโre uncomfortable about something, you just donโt want to talk. Youโre about the worst when it comes to talking things through. Instead, you ignore me and say nothing. But this, with us, only works if you talk.โ
She pulled her arms over her chest. โYou get that tattoo scheduled to be removed yet? Because I told you I donโt want to be looking at your ex-girlfriend every time you take off that shirt.โ There she went, changing the subject again.
โYou know, Lucky and Harley will get along great,โ he said. โYouโve seen them when heโs at your place, no fightsโฆ Iโm thinking this is more about your comfort level. Harley would do great over here with Lucky. Look at all the outdoors heโd have to wanderโฆโ
She was still looking up at him, breathing in and out, her chest rising. โHeโs a three-legged cat. He doesnโt wander outside. He stays inside or sits on my deck. He couldnโt protect himself if he wandered. You want a beer?โ
She was already walking back into his small one-bedroom cabin. He gestured after her with his tongs, fighting the urge to wrap his hands around her neck. She was the only woman he found himself completely off kilter with, unable to reason with.
โOpinionated, stubborn, difficultโฆโ he said under his breath, maybe because she still hadnโt answered him. He wondered if this was where guys learned to toe the line.
โMark!โ she called out to him, holding up a beer from the open fridge.
He gestured with a sweep of his tongs. โNope. Carmen isnโt on call tonight, and Iโm not about to give the council any reason to bounce me.โ
She shoved the beer back into his dated old fridge with a clatter. โThen how about water, or do you want this lonely can of orange soda?โ she called out.
โNothing, Iโm good.โ He shook his head, flipped the steaks again, and turned off the grill as Billy Jo walked his way with an empty plate and a glass of wine. She handed the plate to him in comfortable silence. She seemed to just know what he needed, and it left him wondering why they were still dancing around each other. He was trying to figure out how to navigate this maze, treading carefully, recalling his history of screwing up every good thing heโd had.
โSo can we talk about how you avoid answering by changing the subject? Iโm serious, Billy Joโฆโ He let out a rough laugh, trying to dial back his frustration. โYou know how I feel about you. Is it about this place, sex, or what? I feel like Iโm having to force the conversation when I would rather not talk, but if I donโt, seriously, Iโm starting to think dancing around is all weโll ever do. Are you scared of me, of this between us? Is that why I feel as if youโre one step forward and two back all the time? And donโt think I havenโt noticed your subtle change from baggy comfortable clothes to looking more like a girl.โ
He took the plate from her a little harder than he meant to, and she narrowed her eyes, her mouth tight, her posture stiff. He put the steaks and baked potatoes on the plate and reached for the hot skillet using the mitt Billy Jo had held out without a word. He shook his head as he walked around her with dinner, seeing how she held the wineglass, still saying nothing.
He stopped beside her and leaned down, so close. โAnd here you go again, suddenly mute.โ
She flicked her gaze up to him and let out a frustrated breath, and he made himself keep moving because he could feel the edge of her anger. He would gladly have reached out and shaken her if he thought it would do any good.
โFrustratingโฆ. Like, what the hell am I doing?โ he said under his breath as he put the plate down with a clatter and set the skillet on the stove. He rested his hands on the counter and gave his head a shake before reaching for two plates on the open shelf, which he realized had never looked this neat and organized.
He heard the door close and sensed her walking his way, so he held out a plate to her as she appeared quietly beside him and put her glass of wine down.
โJust FYI, Iโm not scared of you, Mark,โ she said. โItโs me Iโm scared of. You want to have this conversation, then fine, letโs have it. Weโre friendsโฆโ
โWeโre more than friends and you know it,โ he snapped, cutting her off, forking one of the steaks onto a plate. She rolled her shoulders as he reached for a baked potato and unwrapped the tinfoil.
โSo weโre dating,โ she said.
โNot dating, either. Dating is getting to know someone, testing the waters to see if a committed relationship is possible. I told you Iโm not dating. You got under my skin. This, here, is dancing around, and thatโs all you, baby.โ He knew he sounded like an asshole, but he was tired of this, and he wondered when heโd found himself seeing her as the one.
โIโm not afraid of sleeping with you, Mark, or sex, so letโs get that straight. But you have issues, one of which is the tattoo of your former girlfriend that you should have removed by now. So letโs talk about dancing around, shall we?โ
โI called and booked an appointment for a week Thursday, but it has to be done on the mainland, and thatโs if I have a new deputy trained and here to help Carmen so I can leave the island. So no, I havenโt blown it off, but with the shitstorm that went on here with the chief and me taking over, you know I canโt just hop on a ferry and leave right now.โ
He had her backed against the counter, so close to her that he settled his hands on either side of her so she couldnโt move. She looked to one side and then the other until she was forced to look at him. He knew he was in her space, touching her, pushing her. He could feel the pull of her breath, see the way she reacted to him.
โYou really booked it?โ she said.
He angled his head without stepping back, and she flicked her gaze to his lips. He didnโt wait for her to say yes before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips, easy, soft, and let it linger. Her hand on his arm traced the skin up to the edge of his faded T-shirt, and he settled his hand on her hip, over the curve of her waist, and up her back, then slipped his arm around her and pulled her right against him as he deepened the kiss.
She pressed against his chest but didnโt push him away. It was instinctive and natural as he lifted her, resting her on the edge of the counter, pressing a kiss to her neck, the soft skin at the V of her open blouse, and he heard her hiss. Just then, the dog barked, and Mark jumped. There was a knock at the door.
He pulled back, still holding her as she slid down, mourning the interruption, the loss. He stepped away, his hand on her for another second, and he angled his head, unsure what was staring back at him.
โDammit, always something.โ He hadnโt meant to say it out loud. โLucky, come here!โ he called out as the dog barked again. He made himself take one step and another, glancing once to his open bedroom door and his holstered gun sitting on the dresser.
He walked to the door and pulled it open to see a woman with light hair, slender, wearing a loose blouse. โHi, are you lost?โ he said, taking her in. He figured she had to be about five foot five, maybeโyoung, pretty.
โSo sorry. Youโre the chief, right?โ she said.
He didnโt step back, feeling uncomfortable. The young woman looked up at him, and he couldnโt help being a little pissed. Billy Jo stepped up behind him, and he set a hand on her arm. โSorry, can I help you?โ he said before pulling in a rattled breath.
Heโd been so into Billy Jo, that kiss, and having her one step from under him, that he hadnโt heard a stranger arrive. He stepped away from Billy Jo, his hand lingering a second on her to keep her behind him, maybe from the fear of everything that had happened around him.
โAre you the chief?โ she said, her voice soft. She appeared in her early twenties, if that.
โI am. And you are?โ he replied. Lucky was growling behind him, and he turned back to the dog, seeing Billy Jo with her arms crossed, looking intently at the woman. Lucky growled and barked again. โLucky, come over here,โ he said. โBilly Jo, can youโฆ?โ
He didnโt have to say any more, as Lucky warily came over to him, and he grabbed the collar Billy Jo had bought for him and pulled him back. Billy Jo reached for him, making him sit, as Mark took in the open door to his bedroom and the gun still sitting on the dresser. He didnโt know why he was feeling so on edge.
He stepped closer, standing in the open door right in front of the woman, and he could hear Billy Jo talking to his dog behind him. Her expression was off, maybe from the way the dog had reacted to her.
โYou didnโt tell me who you are. Is this a police matter?โ he said. โYour coming out here is unusual. Weโre kind of in a crunch right now with staffing down. I havenโt been on the island that long, so I havenโt had a chance to get to know everyone.โ He gestured to her, looking over her head to see a sleek silver Jaguar Coupe, likely why he hadnโt heard her pull in.
She squeezed the silver chain strap of her purse over her shoulder, her mouth tight. โI apologize for intruding, and yes, I hesitated in coming to you. In fact, Iโve sat outside the stationโwell, just on the road, with plans to walk in and talk to you, but Iโm afraid I chickened out. I didnโt want anyone to see me, because then there would be talk, and then heโd know.โ
Her eyes were deep blue, and Mark found himself lifting his hand to invite her inside. โOkay, come in. Why donโt you have a seat?โ He gestured to the old leather sectional and glanced back to Billy Jo, shooting her a puzzled look. She didnโt let go of Lucky, who, he realized, wasnโt letting the woman out of his sight. He couldnโt remember ever seeing his dog act that way: wary, watchful. Hmm.
She took a step inside and over to the sofa, running her slender hands over her deep blue jeans. She wore makeup, thick mascara, and her lips were full. Her identity was still a mystery.
โSo why donโt we start with your name?โ he said, his hands going to his hips.
The woman seemed to track him with just her eyes. โAnd it wonโt get back to my husband?โ
He made himself shake his head. โThis is just us here. I canโt help you unless you tell me what it is. Are you in trouble, scared? What is it?โ
Odd, he thought as she nodded, glancing past him to Billy Jo before looking back at him.
โMy name is Sunday, and Iโm not sure where to start. Did you know child marriages are legal in this country? Iโm not old enough to vote, buy a house, join the military, or drink alcohol, but Iโve been married for three years.โ
He didnโt have to look to know that Billy Jo was now standing beside him, and Luckyโs nails scratched on the old hardwood as he lay down behind him.
โYouโre married. How old are you?โ
โIโm sixteen, old enough to drive now. I have two children, my first when I was fourteen, the second when I was fifteen. When I had my babies, the hospital knew, and the school I went to knew, and the courts knew where I was married before a judge.โ
Billy Jo hissed beside him, or maybe it was the sound in his own head. He knew he was staring like a fool, trying to wrap his head around what she was saying. Maybe that was why the woman opened her purse, pulled out her wallet and driverโs license, and held it out to him.
He found himself staring at her before reaching for the license, seeing a photo of a woman free of makeup, appearing much like a young girl. He took in the year, the birthdate, and the name Sunday Byrd, then flicked his gaze right back to her. The makeup she wore made her look older. Yeah, there it was, the same image. He could see it now, how young she was. He held the license out to Billy Jo and let her take it, maybe because he didnโt know where to begin.
โI can see by your face that either you donโt believe me or youโre having trouble wrapping your head around this,โ Sunday said.
Billy Jo tensed beside him, and he dragged his hand over his face. He couldnโt figure out what to say, because he knew that her being married, as sick as it was, was legal in too many places.
โIs that why youโre here?โ he said.
She shook her head. โNo, Iโm here because the man I was forced to marry killed my family.โ
Chapter 3
โCould you excuse us a second?โ Billy Jo said, still holding the license. She dragged her gaze over to Mark, who appeared tense and quiet. She was beginning to read him so well, his many moods, right down to the way he had to fight the urge to wrap his hands around her neck when she went toe to toe with him and stepped on his male egoโthough, to his credit, he had a restraint she hadnโt expected. Then there was the way he became quiet when he was completely rattled and thrown, like now. She reached for his bare arm, feeling the warmth, the strength, and pulled.
โWhat are you doing?โ he said, but he went along with her, letting her lead him and the dog, whom she grabbed by the collar and shooed into the bedroom, where he jumped onto the unmade bed.
She glanced back once from the bedroom to Sunday, who was sitting on the sofa, staring at her, saying nothing. โWeโll be right back,โ Billy Jo said before closing the door.
Mark paced, unsettled, and dragged his hand over his face, likely still getting his head around what the very young woman had said. He wasnโt happy she had pulled him out of the room, but the way he always humored her was another point in his favor.
โWell, I donโt want to talk in front of her, so Iโm pulling you aside so we can discuss this,โ she said. โDo you see this? Sheโs just a kid. If this is true, itโs likeโฆ Oh my good God, Mark. Two kids? She was just a child, having a baby, two babies.โ She had to remind herself to keep her voice down, as she could feel the magnitude of what she was imagining as she stared at the license, the photo. The girl had shown up at Markโs door and shut down any chance of anything happening between them. Maybe that was why she was so rattled.
โIllegal, is that what youโre going to say?โ He inclined his head, those blue eyes flickering with passion and anger as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle.
โYeah. I guess Iโm looking for something that explains how illegal this is, but it isnโt. Yet he killed her family? This is so bizarre. I justโฆโ
He pulled those amazing strong arms over his chest. He wore a faded T-shirt and blue jeans that fit him too well, and his short red hair was unruly. She knew he was dangerous for her, but at the same time, his personality, the way he talked and listened, and even these complications that landed on his doorstep kept reeling her in again and again.
She knew deep down that Mark had never walked away from the kinds of problem a sane person would. Self-preservation didnโt seem to be something he operated from, and maybe that was why she had to be around him. Good guys apparently did show up, though not as the picture-perfect image she had expected. He was like a drug for her.
โLook, right now thereโs a strange womanโโ
โA girl, a teenager.โ She flicked the license she was still holding up to make her point.
โFine, a teenager who looks like a woman and who showed up at my door with a story I havenโt even heard the details of yet. I need to figure out whether a crime happenedโand, if so, and this is a big if, can I even do something for her? Whether Iโm disgusted or not is irrelevant, because unfortunately, this kind of shit happens in our country.โ
His hands were on his hips, and his gaze flickered with an anger she hadnโt seen that often. โYeah, Iโm aware that all the advocacy groups fighting against child brides in shithole countries should start looking right under their noses at home. Itโs legal, as sick as it is.โ
He raised his brows, likely because she couldnโt get her tongue to move, couldnโt come up with one argument. Apparently, he knew this part of the law well, as did she.
โDo you need another minute in here?โ he said. โBecause Iโd like to find out what the hell she wants and if thereโs something I can do. Unfortunately, on the child bride thing, thereโs zero, but on the murder thing, maybe.โ
He reached for the license and stood beside her, looking down at her, so close as he slid his hand to her hip and around. She could feel how pissed off he was, his passion, and damn, it only made her want him more.
โI can always tell, you know, when something treads on one of your no-go buttons,โ he said. His gaze lingered, and she wanted to run and hide, but his hand was still there, his arm across her. She had to fight the urge not to hold on to him.
โFine,โ was all she could get out.
He pulled his hand away, and she was immediately furious, because even now, with a strange woman in his living room, she couldnโt fight that pull toward him, and what bothered her more than anything was how well he could read her. Too well. She heard him pull open the door behind her, and when she turned, he was watching her.
โYou coming?โ he said, then dragged his gaze over to Lucky, who was still on the bed, tail wagging in expectation. โAnd you stay.โ He jabbed his finger at the dog.
Billy Jo followed him out to where Sunday was sitting. She was slender, dressed well.
He handed her license back to her. โSorry about thatโฆโ
โYou know, your walls are thin. Just FYI, I can hear everything youโre saying, so if youโre trying to save me any embarrassment or save face in trying to get rid of me, donโt bother. It only makes this situation even more awkward. You think I donโt know the statistics, the reality of how child marriage has been culturally accepted in the US? So many say the opposite, that itโs child abuse, but itโs not if a judge signs that piece of paper and weds you to a man whoโs old enough to be your father.
โYou think I havenโt looked for ways to get away from my husband? I even thought once, stupidly, that if the authorities only knew then Iโd be pulled out, and heโd be in jail, and Iโd be free of him. But that reality came crashing down when I called a lawyer one day when he was out only to hear that from 2000 to 2015, over two hundred thousand young girls in the US alone were wed legally to a man over eighteen. In too many states, I canโt even enter a shelter, or divorce him, or leave him at all, because Iโm a minor.
โI was screwed at thirteen, so you think I didnโt look for any loophole to get away? Thatโs why I sat outside your office for so long, knowing I couldnโt walk in because Iโd be seen, and youโre damn right that Iโm paranoid it will get back to him. I have a driverโs license now, the only freedom Iโve had since I was forced to marry him, but I canโt even run with my babies because thereโs nowhere to hide.โ
Billy Jo dragged her gaze over to Mark, who had pulled his cell phone from his pocket and was typing something in. He said nothing as she stepped over to him, and he held the screen out so she could see the title of the article heโd pulled up.
โAs of July 2021, last month, six states have banned underage marriage with no exceptions. But not here,โ he said to Sunday.
She glanced at the first line of the article and angled her head. The way she looked at Mark, even Billy Jo could see she wasnโt impressed, and all she could think was that for a sixteen-year-old, Sunday was unusually well composed.
โSunday, Iโm not sure what I can do,โ Mark said. โDoes he hurt you? You said he killed your family. When, how? Youโre looking for help from meโto do what? To get away from him? To leave him? You said there are kids involved. Maybe you can do a wellness check, Billy Jo?โ He looked over to her. She knew he was thinking over the options out loud.
Sunday cut in. โHeโs never laid a hand on the babies,โ she said.
Billy Jo flicked her gaze to Mark. โLetโs play devilโs advocate here. Say I did a wellness check. Then thereโll be a report, and letโs be real here. Sunday is only sixteen. The babies would be stuck in foster care. And thatโs not even addressing the issue of how I can suddenly get involved.โ
Mark stilled, saying nothing, his mouth open. He glanced up.
โYou know, I canโt be here much longer,โ Sunday said. โHeโll wonder where I am since I said I was going to the store.โ She looked at her watch, and it wasnโt lost on Billy Jo how calm she was, how this seemed like a game of cat and mouse.
โYou said he killed your family,โ Mark said. โStart there and tell me what happened.โ
Her eyes were dark blue, her slender legs crossed, her hands linked over her knees. The diamond on her finger flickered. It was impressive. Nothing about her hinted at poverty. โDo you think Iโm lying?โ
Billy Jo narrowed her gaze. This young girl was playing a dangerous game. โDonโt play coy! You showed up here, remember, at the door, looking for help, but all youโve done since you walked in here was toss us a crumb. Is this a game for you? How about doing us all a favor and answering the question the chief asked you? Or are you lying about this, telling a story to jerk his chain and stir up trouble?โ
Billy Jo felt Mark drag his gaze over to her, but there was something off about this girl. She couldnโt help thinking this was a game, a lie, something to mess with Mark.
โIโm not lying about anything,โ Sunday said. โMy husband, Ash Byrd, is a man people take their problems to. They tell him their problems, and he fixes them, and heโs paid for it. My mom was a problem. When he showed up the first time and told her how it was going to be, he said they could resolve things the easy way or the hard way, but either way, it was going to happen.
โWhen my dad came home, she told him. Iโd never seen her so scared. I donโt know what she did, but she wouldnโt stop even though I knew she was terrified. Next her tires were slashed, and her brakes were cut, and then the phone would ring and sheโd scream at whoever was on the other end to leave her alone. She called the police once, but nothing happened.
โI asked my mom what that man wanted, what sheโd done, and all she kept saying was that she was getting what she was owed. She worked in Hollywood for a producer. I heard her say once that the sharks in Chicago have nothing on Hollywood. Sheโd been fighting with actors, producers, managers.
โOne day, I went to school. It was a Thursday in June. When I came home, Ash was sitting in my parentsโ living room alone. My parents were both gone. He told me that because my mom wouldnโt do as she was told, and because she had gone to my dad and talked when she knew better, heโd had to take care of my dad as well. Then he said he had no choice but to make sure I couldnโt be a problem. That was three years ago.
โNext, I was standing in a judgeโs chamber with him in a sunny California courthouse, thinking it was all a bad dream. But he said this was going to happen. So here I am, sixteen now, legally married to a man who fixes problems for the Hollywood elite. Now can you help me?โ
Billy Jo couldnโt pull her gaze from Sunday. When she finally did, looking over to Mark, she thought this really did sound like a young girl messing around with the new police chief.
Mark shook his head, making a sound of frustration under his breath as he dragged his gaze from her back to Sunday. โIโm confused. You said he killed your parents, yet you came home and he was in your house, your parentsโ house. Did you see him kill them? Where were their bodies? Was there a crime scene?โ
Sunday lifted her purse over her shoulder and stood up, and Billy Jo couldnโt believe she was seeing what seemed like arrogance. โNo, there were no bodies, no crime scene. Heโs smarter than that, and it wasnโt the first time heโd taken care of a problem. Iโm married to the man, so I know that when he takes care of something, it goes away for good. No evidence will be found unless he wants it to. He has people working for him, from former cops to industry experts who understand the game.โ
Mark dragged his hand over his face, and she reached over and touched his arm. He looked right at her.
She just shook her head and said, โYou should look into her parents, at least, see if any missing persons were reported.โ
And then he could call her out on her bullshit story, she thought, though she kept that part to herself. She didnโt quite understand what it was about Sunday that rubbed her the wrong way.
Mark only groaned, then pulled his hand over his head, something he did when he didnโt have an idea where to start. He didnโt answer Billy Jo, just shook his head as he looked down at Sunday. โYou probably already know what Iโm going to say.โ
โYeah, that you canโt help me. No body, no crime, and thereโs no way it could be true. I can already tell she doesnโt believe me,โ she snapped, gesturing to Billy Jo, which only angered her more. This girl was playing with fire, and it seemed she wasnโt beyond taking a shot at her. โSo thanks for nothing,โ she continued in a rather snarky tone, then started walking to the door.
โWait.โ Mark lifted his hand.
Sundayโs back was to him, her hand on the door, but she turned back and lifted her chin, all attitude. Billy Jo felt she was deliberately thumbing her nose at her. She knew she couldnโt have explained this to anyone, this feeling that there was something so completely off about this girl.
โThat wasnโt what I was going to say,โ he said. โIโll look into it, see what I can find out, and if there is something, Iโll see what I can do. But, one, if he killed your parents in California, itโs out of my jurisdiction, and, two, as far as your marriage is concerned, until the laws are changed, there isnโt a damn thing I can do about that. You live here, and he lives here too. Iโll be in touch.โ
She pulled open the door. โNo, please donโt be in touch. I drove out here because he canโt know I was talking to you,โ she said. Then she walked out the door.
Billy Jo took in Lucky, who was staring out at them from the bed, his tail wagging. Mark walked to the open door and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and Billy Jo strode over to him and slid her hand to his back, leaning close to him as they watched the strange young woman walk to her fancy car, the kind Billy Jo would never have tossed money toward. Mark lifted his phone, took a photo of it, and then looked down at her.
โYou believe any of that story?โ he said. From the way he was looking at her, she could see the edge of disbelief, and all she could do was shake her head. Sheโd thought for a moment that heโd believed it hook, line, and sinker.
โI donโt know,โ she said. โA pretty young girl shows up at your door with a crazy story? If itโs true, and Iโm not saying it is, but if so, I think youโd better ask yourself just how much you want to stick your nose into this. Because if he is who she says, you donโt have enough resources to investigate this, let alone go after someone like him. Problems you canโt even imagine could very well land on your doorstep, and people could come after you. Or, worse, you could be made to disappear.โ
Chapter 4
Something about the visit from Sunday Byrd had completely cooled off anything happening between him and Billy Jo. Over a cold dinner, he hadnโt gotten her to admit the parallels between her and Sunday, the many similarities. Heโd never seen Billy Jo display the kind of open hostility she had to the young lady whoโd knocked on his door. In the end, heโd slept alone with his dog at the foot of the bed.
Maybe that was one of the reasons he was feeling unsettled, off, and frustrated as he pulled up in front of the station in the early morning before anything else had opened and parked his Jeep beside Carmenโs cruiser, seeing she was already there and the light was on inside. He didnโt know where to begin in unraveling the tale of the girl whoโd shown up at his door.
โCome on,โ he said to the dog, who jumped down and out the door. Markโs hair was still damp, and he held his go-mug of coffee and took a swallow as he stepped up on the sidewalk. He opened the door to find Carmen at her desk, on the phone, gesturing with a pen to his office, where a man heโd never seen before was sitting, having turned the chair to watch him. He had neat short dark hair and was casually dressed, not pulling his gaze from Mark.
โBed, go,โ he said to Lucky, and the dog went right to his dog bed. Mark walked over to Carmenโs desk as she hung up the phone. โWho is that?โ he said.
She lifted her brows. โDonโt know. He walked in and said you were expecting him. Said youโd know. I sent you a text a second ago before the phone rang.โ
Mark pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at a text sent five minutes earlier: Some guy just showed up and is sitting in your office, waiting. Said youโre expecting him.
Carmen let her gaze linger on him, pissed off, as he glanced over to the man sitting there.
โYou two finished gossiping out there?โ the man said. โCome on in here, Mark. We need to have a talk.โ
Carmenโs expression darkened. He didnโt have a clue who the man was, but the way he spoke was unsettling. He heard the squeak of the chair and knew Carmen was on her feet behind him.
โYou want me to get him out of here?โ she said.
He shook his head. โNo, Iโll deal with this. Look, I sent you a text, a plate number. I want you to dig up anything you can on it, the registered owner, everything.โ
She was still standing there, her dark hair pulled back, looking at the man who was staring at them. He had to be forty, maybe, his hands linked over his belt, a thick gold ring with some insignia on his finger. He wasnโt smiling.
Mark didnโt look away as he said to Carmen, โI want to schedule a meeting later this morning with a couple of the possibilities to fill the deputy position and answer the phones here.โ
Then he started walking to his office, digging into each step. โYou seem to know me, yet Iโm at a loss. Have we met?โ he said, standing just inside his office, staring down at the man, who stared right back at him, unflinching, cold. Mark couldnโt remember ever looking into eyes so unfeeling before.
โAsh Byrd,โ the man said. โI can tell by your face that you already know why Iโm here. Figured putting a face to the name would help. Join me. Come on in your office and sit down.โ
He had to fight the urge to look back at Carmen. He wanted to tell this guy to get the hell out of his office, but he remembered Billy Jo and her warning to him. Heโd thought she was paranoid, but the memory now had him feeling like a fool. He was about to refuse and stand there, but something about this situation wasnโt sitting right. With what heโd heard the night before about this man, he wondered what the hell had shown up in his community and on his island.
He glanced back once to Carmen, who was on her laptop, before walking around his desk, feeling each step. He heard his door close, and Ash turned to face Mark, who rested his coffee on his desk and sat and leaned back in his chair. He could feel his sidearm as he took in the man, wearing a long-sleeved burgundy Henley and dress pants he knew werenโt from a bargain store. His face was clean shaven, with a scar on his chin.
โSo what can I do for youโAsh Byrd, is it? Youโve walked right in here and made yourself at home. Do you forget Iโm the chief of police?โ
The man didnโt smile as he pulled in a breath. โI know exactly who you are. You met my wife, Sunday, last night.โ
Mark was leaning back in his chair. He rocked a bit and didnโt pull his gaze. How the hell did he know?
โCan see you donโt want to answer,โ Ash said. โNot much goes on without my knowing.โ
Mark knew he made a face. โNow, why would you show up here and ask me that? What makes you think Iโve spoken with your wife?โ
The man didnโt flinch. Strength seemed to ooze from him. โYouโre new to the position here on the island, newly appointed, but good at what you do with the limited resources you have. The council here, though, doesnโt really have your back, and theyโre looking for any reason to replace you with someone they want. After all, having you step in was only temporary, and much of this office really is in flux. You ever ask yourself how Tolly Shephard managed to keep his job as long as he did, running things the way he did? You ever ask who made sure he was left alone? I think you know what Iโm talking about, given that bottom drawer of yours, which you havenโt cleaned out.โ
Mark stilled, a knot in his stomach. He had to remind himself to breathe, picturing the file the chief had kept on Mary Jane and the other councillors, the dishonesty, the hands in the cookie jar, the kind of dirt that would serve as his insurance to keep the politicians in line and off his back.
โSounds to me as if youโre alluding to something,โ he said. โYou help the chief out?โ
Heโd talk with Carmen, because how the hell did Ash have any idea what was in the bottom drawer unless heโd gone through it?
โNo idea what youโre talking about. Letโs talk about the other situation, the tale you were told. Youโre a smart man, so let me help you out so you can stay smart and keep your job. Sunday is known for her tales. Sheโs bored, and she finds you rather attractive, Chief, young and single as you areโฆโ
Ash had big hands, he realized, as he gestured toward him, not pulling his gaze. Mark knew when someone was aware of what was going on around him without even looking. This guy was good, and as he recalled what Sunday had said, he felt his hand had already been tipped.
โNot sure what this is, but Iโm not some wet-behind-the-ears rookie. Are you coming in here and threatening me? Because it sounds like youโre trying to warn me off. Threatening an officer, I could arrest you for that.โ
โWho said anything about threatening you? Weโre just having a friendly conversation, is all.โ
Mark pulled in a breath, very aware of what he wasnโt saying, being careful, giving nothing concrete. A smart man was sitting across from him. So that was how he was playing it. โYour wife, Sunday, an unusual name.โ
Ashโs lips pulled to the sides in an odd smile. โSure, young, smart, and troublesomeโฆโ He angled his head, teasing.
โHow young is she, again?โ Mark said. He knew he shouldnโt, but this man already knew that he knew. How, he wasnโt sure.
โYou know, the greatest thing about this country is that the laws havenโt caught up with me. Thereโs nothing illegal about marrying a minor where we are right now.โ
โThirteen is a kid, not a minor. Itโs child abuse.โ
Ash was shaking his head. โI know youโre not an idiot there, Chief Mark Friessen. That snippy little social worker you spend time with knows what Iโm talking about. Maybe you should have her fill you in on the legalese of a marriage document. Sheโs my wife, and therefore thereโs no crime. Now, Iโm coming here as a gentleman, all friendly, man to man. Because to hear that my wife is being entertained by another man, being shown interest by another man who just so happens to be the acting chief of police, well, I have to say I donโt like that.โ
Mark just stared at him, realizing he was serious. He could feel the slippery slope he was treading, with this added dimension that was far from the truth. His job was everything, and the politics were never anything he had considered, but they had become more and more of what his job was. โMr. Byrd, you come into my office, tossing out talesโฆโ
โNo, youโre not listening to me, so Iโm going to help you out so you understand. Thereโs the easy way and thereโs the hard way, Chief Friessen. Doesnโt matter which to me, but easier is better for everyone and for the community. Itโs never good for a police chief to be showing interest in a young girl. Sheโs my wife, but to you, sheโs a minor. The community is still reeling from the sudden departure of Chief Shephard, a long-time resident who could be forgiven for far more than a new young chief no one knows much about other than his lack of respect for authority. Imagine being fired by a small county for taking bribes, corruption, and just being a bad cop in general. Thatโs a bad way to go out.โ
The horror of what heโd said had Mark just staring at Ash as he stood up. He was of average height and weight, and he didnโt know why heโd pictured someone with a lot of muscle. Ash pulled open the door and let his gaze linger on Mark again.
โYouโre creating a tale about me, and thatโs dangerous for you,โ Ash said, unflinching, confident in a way that was unsettling. โYou think the truth is even relevant? You have a lot to learn. It was nice meeting you, Chief. Remember what I said.โ
Then he strode out to the door. Mark didnโt get up. He could see Carmen already walking his way.
โWhat the hell was that about?โ she said, gesturing.
Mark couldnโt remember ever having been this unsettled. There was Billy Joโs warning again. He leaned forward, taking in the way Carmen was staring at him, wide eyed, freaked out. He pulled his hand over his face.
โNot sure, but I figure that was a warning,โ he said, then pushed back his chair and stood up to walk around his desk, past Carmen and over to the window. When he looked out, he couldnโt see where Ash Byrd had gone. There were cars driving past, a few people here and there. Something about the warning made him feel a blindside coming.
โYou ever hear of an Ash Byrd?โ he said, turning back to Carmen.
She shrugged. โIs that who that was?โ
He turned back to the window, aware she hadnโt really answered. โHe knows the chief,โ he said. When he turned back to Carmen, he wasnโt sure he liked what he could see staring back at him. โHe may have done some work for him.โ
She fisted her hands and nodded as she pulled them over her chest. โI presume weโre not talking about the kind of work that would in any way be official.โ
Mark glanced back out the window. โNo, nothing legal, legitimate, or above board here.โ He dragged his gaze away, around the empty and quiet station, to his dog, who was looking at him from the dog bed in the corner.
โIโve never seen him before, but that doesnโt mean anything,โ Carmen said. โThe chief, you know, already had a way of doing things. But he also did business at the golf course, out where no one can hear you, where itโs just two or three people and a golf game. A whisper here, a deal thereโฆ The chief played a lot of golf.โ
He took in Gailโs empty desk, missing her more than he would admit. โGet me the details of that plate. It should come back as Ash Byrdโs. Then I want you to find out everything about him, and I mean everything: who he knows, what he does, where heโs from.โ Mark pulled his keys from his pocket and started to the door. โCome on, Lucky,โ he called to the dog.
โAnd where are you going?โ Carmen said.
โTo find out exactly what kind of problem is knocking at my door. You call me with anything,โ Mark said, then pulled open the door and let the dog out first, saying nothing else.
He walked down to his Jeep, unable to explain the odd feeling that someone was watching him. As he pulled open the door and let the dog in, he looked over his shoulder, but the problem was that he couldnโt see anything or anyone out of place.
Chapter 5
Googling Sunday Byrd and her situation only to come up with nothing should have given Billy Jo some peace of mind. But something about the girl, her face, and her story bothered her in ways she couldnโt have put into words. Worse, she was unsettled and furious because sheโd seen the way Mark had looked at Sunday, and she knew he didnโt see her the same way Billy Jo did.
She was perched on a stool at her small island with a coffee, her French press half full in front of her, Harley munching his kibble in a bowl on the floor, when she heard a vehicle. She was still in a T-shirt and pajama shorts, her hair a mess, but she heard footsteps on her stairs, so she closed up her laptop and slipped off the stool to walk barefoot over to the door just as he knocked.
She flicked the deadbolt and pulled the door open, staring up to see vivid blue eyes, red hair, and brooding lips. She remembered too well what those felt like pressed to hers, and she let her gaze linger. He took in her bare legs, her pajamas, and she could see he had something on his mind.
โI need to talk to you,โ he said.
She stepped back, and he walked right in, wearing blue jeans, a jean jacket, and cowboy boots, with the greatest ass sheโd ever seen. There was something about Mark. Being around him was the easiest and the hardest thing at the same time. She closed the door and swept back her shoulder-length hair, feeling the tangles. Mark was already in her kitchen, making himself at home, pulling out a mug from the cupboard as she strode back over to the island and slid back onto the stool. He lifted the French press and poured himself a coffee, and she waited, seeing the moodiness and how off he was.
โI hope this isnโt where youโre going to start in on me again,โ he said, still holding the French press. He filled her mug to the top, emptying what was left. His lips were tight, and he clearly didnโt want to talk.
โWhat was it you said, that Iโm like Sunday Byrd?โ she said. He put the empty French press into the sink without responding. โYou know, Mark, you have a blind spot when it comes to attractive women, and Sunday, though sixteen, is that and then some. You have any idea what itโs like to sit there and watch you just accept everything she said? You ever heard of a woman who knows how to spin it, to dial up the drama, to mess with you? Pretty sure that tattoo on your arm should be enough of a reminder of how nice, gorgeous girls can flash you a smile and tell you a story while lying through their teeth.โ
โDo you want me to say Iโm sorry?โ He rested both hands on the island, staring right at her. โI will if that will help, but just the same, Billy Jo, Iโm not going to start lying to you now. You want me to tell you what you want to hear, or do you want me to tell you the truth? I thought this thing here, with us, starts with no bullshit.โ He gestured at her.
She could feel this going sideways again. โDonโt be an asshole, Mark, or toss out cruel comparisons between me and Sunday, because there are no similarities between us, what I went through, and her showing up at your door.โ
โYeah, but one minute you want me to check into it, and the next youโre calling her a liar.โ
She fisted her hands, resting them on the island, wondering when heโd become so good at tossing attitude right back at her. โI never called her a liar, so youโre putting words in my mouth, but you think a young girl like that isnโt stretching the truth? Look at her. The only reason we knew she was young was because of the ID she offered rather easily. Then there was the game of sitting outside the station, not wanting to come in because sheโs afraid of it getting back to her husband. I have to wonder, is it even true? The cloak and dagger and drama are very indicative of a story from someone so young, and you fell for it. I could see how adept she was at reeling you in. Youโre telling me you donโt find her attractive in the least?โ
Sheโd never seen him look at her quite the way he was, with anger and fury flickering in those blue eyes.
โSheโs a fucking kid,โ he said. โSeriously, donโt turn me into a creep eyeing up a young girl. She knocked on the door looking for help, is all. Iโm the chief of police here. Youโre damn right Iโm going to give any woman looking for help the benefit of the doubt. Iโm surprised as all hell with you, Billy Jo. Youโre so quick to toss out her story and paint her as a liar. I wouldโve thought out of anyone, youโd have been in her corner, advocating, fighting. You know, you may not want to admit it, but she hit a nerve in you. I saw it last night. Whether itโs her story, her situation, or the girl herself, I could see it in the way you walked out on me. Even right now, youโre ready to go another round.โ
She wondered if that was the reason he appeared so pissed. โYou swallowed everything she said as if it were gospel. With her showing up at your door with that story, maybe some of itโs true, but maybe the whole thing is absolute bullshit. I could see the way you looked at her. Sheโs attractive, young. You were ready to bend over backwards for her, letting her lead you aroundโฆโ
โDonโt you fucking dare, not from you too.โ He slammed his mug down, cutting her off, and the coffee sloshed over the side. The cat jumped, and Billy Jo stared back at the flicker of fire in his eyes. She realized what heโd said.
โWhat do you mean, not from me too?โ
His mouth was tight as he reached for the roll of paper towel, ripped off a sheet, and wiped up the spilled coffee. โYou know, Billy Jo, suggesting I could seriously be eyeing up that girl is pretty low, even for you. Sheโs a kid. You think I donโt know youโre more scared of yourself and this bullshit relationship, this dancing around that youโre doing with me? Youโd rather paint me as a dirty dog because then you could say, โLook, I was right, see?โโ
She flicked her gaze to her coffee, feeling the slap and the embarrassment, then lifted her hands. โIโm sorry. I know you wouldnโt cross the line. But are you honestly telling me you didnโt find her attractive in the least bit?โ
He angled his head and narrowed his gaze, then let out a rude sound under his breath. โYou donโt get it. That suggestion is the kind of thing that could ruin my life, my career. Itโs not even funny, Billy Jo, and I canโt believe you of anyone would accuse me. Why would you even think so little of me? In all the time weโve spent together, are you telling me you really believe I would go around with another woman behind your back? You really believe I could do that?โ He could really be loud when he was pissed offโno, furious.
For a moment, she felt herself stumbling, trying to explain how she had to fight every day the doubts that plagued her. โNoโฆ Iโm sorry. I didnโt mean it like that.โ
โReally, then how did you mean it?โ
She pulled in one breath and then another. โLook at me and look at you.โ
He narrowed his gaze and made another rude sound as if he didnโt get it. โAnd what exactly are you trying to get at? Is this about me being a cop and you a social worker or what? Because youโve lost me.โ
She just stared and could feel her jaw slacken, wondering how he didnโt see that she wasnโt a supermodel, the typical woman he was drawn to, attractive, gorgeous, with curves. โI donโt want to fight with you, Mark. What did you mean when you said not from me too? You didnโt answer me.โ
He really did appear off. โI walked into the station this morning to find a man Iโd never seen before sitting in my office, waiting to give me a message. He walked right past Carmen, telling her I was expecting him.โ He pulled his hand over the back of his neck, and his jean jacket pulled back to reveal his firearm, his badge.
She knew she was pushing him away, and she didnโt want to. She wondered why she couldnโt just be happy. โWho was waiting for you, Mark?โ
He looked right at her across the distance sheโd created. โIt seems Ash Byrd knew Sunday paid me a visit last night. He was there, sitting in my office, making himself at home, waiting to warn me off. Yeah, sheโs married to him, so sheโs not lying about that, Billy Jo. I think he knows the chief and did some work for him, too.โ
She wondered what kind of odd look was on her face. โWhat kind of work?โ
He lifted his mug and downed his coffee, then walked over to the sink and rinsed it out before setting it there. She wanted to yell at him to say something, as she could feel her heart pounding. Sheโd never seen him this rattled.
โRemember the files the chief had to keep the council in line, the dirt on each of them in the bottom of my desk? Seems Ash may have been the one to collect it for him.โ
She didnโt lean forward but realized he was serious. โFor real?โ
He shrugged. โItโs why Iโm here. I plan to go see the chief and ask him outright who this guy is, but whoever he is, I know heโs the kind of guy I wouldnโt want to meet in a dark alley alone. You know he even went so far as to discredit Sunday? You know, saying sheโs a flirt, a storyteller, and it wouldnโt look good if people suddenly learned the chief of police on this island is messing around with someoneโs sixteen-year-old wife.โ
She knew her jaw slackened, and she stared in horror, now recognizing the look on his face. He was cornered, upset, scared. โHe seriously said that to you, accusing you of messing around with her? So heโs planning on tossing out a story about you to get you to back off. You told him what she said?โ
Mark was looking away, leaning against the sink. When he dragged his gaze back to her, it wasnโt filled with the same caring sheโd become used to. Why did she insist on pushing him away?
โNo, I told her last night I wouldnโt tell her husband, and my word means something, Billy Jo. I havenโt had a chance to look into her story. I gave the plate number to Carmen and asked her to dig up anything she could on Ash Byrd. But he knew enough. Whether she went home and told himโฆโ He gestured vaguely. โNevertheless, heโs right about one thing. If a story got out about me showing interest in a young girl, Iโd be run off the island, and it wouldnโt matter what I have on the council. My job would be gone. Thatโs the kind of thing I couldnโt run from. It would follow me. As youโve already pointed out, Billy Jo, with my history with women, it really wouldnโt be too much of a leap, now, would it?โ
She could hear the nastiness in his voice, and maybe she deserved that slap. She wanted to say people wouldnโt believe it, but she knew that wasnโt true. โIโm sorry, Mark. What are you going to do?โ
He sighed. โI donโt know. Go see the chief, have a word with him about Ash Byrd, find out who he is, what he does for people, exactly, and everything about Sunday.โ
Then he started walking out of the kitchen right past her. No hug, no kiss, no nothing.
โMark,โ she called out to him.
He stopped halfway to the door and glanced back to her.
โI donโt really believe youโd do that,โ she said. โItโs just my own insecurity.โ
He nodded. โI know, but there is a point, Billy Jo, where you can go too far, push too hard, lashing out to slap me down and push me away. I wouldnโt do that to you, not ever,โ he said.
Then he kept walking out the door, and she shut her eyes, feeling his words and knowing how right he was. As Mark went down the stairs, Lucky barked from where heโd evidently been left in the Jeep.
Billy Jo realized she needed to get her head right, or this thing with Mark would never go anywhere. Because he was right: She was pushing him out of her life because he knew too many of her dark and dirty secrets, and he could read her way too well, and that was the one thing that absolutely terrified her.
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“This is a wonderful heartwarming series built around strong family ties that involve some conflict, heartache, and plenty of drama…youโre not going to want to miss a single tale.” Catlou, Kindle Customer
The Parker Sisters: The Complete Collection includes the first five books in this heartwarming big family romance series
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This week has been crazy, with insane heat, smoke finally arriving from all the fires burning around us, two online meetings I forgot about, and a ferry I had to race to catch so I could attend a Saturday safety course I booked months ago.
One of the things everyone knows about me is that Iโm a really early morning person, but that does not equate to me going anywhere in the morning. For me, mornings are about getting up, drinking water and coffee, taking โme time,โ and writing, and the only things I want to hear are the birds and the quiet, nothing else. So what do you think happened when I received an email notifying me that the Saturday course I booked months ago was not in fact online and would instead be starting at eight a.m. sharp, and I would have to take a ferry to get there? The ferry I was planning to take would arrive at eight, which meant my son would have to pick me up on the other side and race across the island, leaving me fifteen minutes late. I can live with that, and in fact I thought it was doable. How much would I really miss? I even emailed the instructors so they werenโt left wondering whether I was a no-show.
But leave it to my son, who was booked in the same course, to point out that it would be better if we werenโt late, so how about taking the earlier ferry? I looked at him like, Seriously? The earlier ferry would leave at six thirty in the morning, which meant I would have to be up at like four thirty. That would give me very little me time, as I would have to race to catch a ferry that would arrive an hour before the course started. Of course, I thought about it, figuring that was what a reasonable person would do. I texted him backโbecause his current mode of communication is to text instead of callโand said, โOkay, look, if I wake up, Iโll be on the earlier ferry.โ Then came the scramble of wondering whether I would just wake up early after all, since I usually am up at five a.m. anyway. But because I donโt have an alarm, I suspected while lying there, staring at the ceiling, that this would be the one time I slept in.
The thing about ferries is that if you miss one, you have to wait for the next one, which means that five minutes of lateness turns into an hour. So at midnight I was still awake, and then one oโclock hit, and by that time I realized I was going to be in big trouble, so tired that it would make the all-day course miserable. Because I knew my daughter was still awake, I got up and said, โPlease set an alarm on your phone and get me up in the morning. I swear Iโll make it up to you. Whatever you want, itโs yours.โ Could I have done it on my old cell phone, which doesnโt even upgrade anymore, and its few apps donโt work because the memory isnโt big enough? I wouldโve had to give it to one of my kids and ask them to figure it out. What about an actual alarm clock? Iโm still not going to buy one.
Nevertheless, knowing my daughter would wake me up was apparently all the peace of mind I needed, because I fell asleep. At four fifty-five a.m., I woke up, climbed out of bed, had somewhat of a morning, and said a quick thank-you to my daughter, who, having heard me get up, had shut off her alarm and packed me some cut-up fruit for breakfast on the ferry. That was really beyond thoughtful! I packed up, tossed a backpack into my SUV, and raced to the ferry for the six thirty sailing only to pull into the parking lot to find the ship hadnโt even left the other dock. I gave myself a quick โGood thinking!โ because when the ferry starts late on its first run of the morning, it often spends the entire day behind, one sailing after another.
In the end, instead of being super early or fifteen minutes late, it turned out I was right on time.
Audible has given me FREE audiobook codes to pass on to you for select titles in this series! In turn, please be sure to take a few moments after listening to leave an honest online review. Click the yellow button below to claim a code.
*Due to limited availability, codes must be redeemed within 48 hours or will be reassigned to another requester.
If you are not currently an Audible member, you can still sign up and claim a free code without signing up for a membership or subscription. If you have any issues, Audible’s Customer Care team is just one phone call away & are happy to help–you can reach them directly at (888) 283-5051.
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For those who live for the great outdoors, and I happen to be one of them, summer is about outdoor fun, camping, and being on the water, whether boating or visiting with family and friends. But this year it seems weโre continuing the trend of having no idea whatโs around the corner. The heat has been unprecedented, and even I succumbed to heat exhaustion this past week. I had it a few times in my teenage years and twenties, so I remember well how it can take you down. The temperatures have been unrelenting. Iโd likely be the first person to tell you how much I love the rain, but the dry, hot heat? No, thank you. Here we are in August, and the heat continues. Add in the forest fires and it seems thereโs no break. In many places in the province, the smoke is so bad itโs hard to see.
So what happens when you live in a community where fires are burning around you? Youโre put on evacuation alert and told to be ready to go at a momentโs notice. With fires burning out of control in too many places, people are being told to pack up and leave, but where are they supposed to go? Many of the hotels and places to stay are booked up with visitors holidaying. I read one article that said people are being told to either camp or stay with family, because commercial accommodations have limited occupancy. This leads to people not leaving when told to, which puts those at the heart of the fire in danger.
It would seem logical that if fire is coming your way, you pack up and get out, but not if you donโt have a place to go. Housing, and Iโve written so many blog posts about this, is the elephant in the room, an issue that has spiralled so far that no one wants to fix it, not really. One of the things that has really been spotlighted, particularly during the pandemic, is the number of people living in their cars, with no roofs over their heads. I donโt even want to think of how horrible that would be, but worse is what I heard a local cop say just last week, that you can park your car anywhere, just not with you in it.
I am a big advocate of basic human decency, but it seems that in too many places a huge divide has arisen between the haves and the have-nots. If you had no place to go, what would you do? Think about it. You have a vehicle, and youโre fortunate to have that, but you no longer have a roof over your head, so you must drive around, looking for a place to park for the night so you can get some sleep. But what happens if you park in the wrong place? When the police drive by a parking lot and see you there, they pull in and tell you to move on. Maybe you ask, โWell, where can I go and park? Could you help me?โ But their response is, โNo idea. You just canโt park here, so move on.โ
Youโre exhausted, and you need more gas, but you drive away, shaking, worried. Maybe your kids are in the car with you, so you drive somewhere more rural, down a quiet street, maybe a little pull-out where youโre not bothering anyone, hoping youโre out of the way enough. But then a property owner pulls out and sees the strange car parked there. Is that property owner empathetic and going to leave you be? Or does he see you and immediately feel angry, thinking he doesnโt want that kind of riffraff hanging around there, citing crime and break-ins and theft as an excuse. He makes one call to the police, who handle the bylaw infractions in many places, and they respond to property owners first as a priority.
Yet again thereโs a knock on your window, waking you up from the few hours of sleep you were maybe lucky to get, and you jolt awake, stiff and sore from trying to sleep in your cramped car seat. You roll down your window and see the cop standing there, with a badge and a holstered gun. You hear his radio, and maybe his flashing lights are flickering. You look up, weary, exhausted, panicked, and his speech to you is โA complaint was phoned in. It looks like youโre living in your car, so Iโm giving you a warning to move on. You canโt park and sleep here.โ Again, you receive no help, just a warning, and you feel the angry eyes of residents who want you out and off their street.
Now, some may say that would never happen to them. Maybe they own their own homes or have family they could go and stay with. But that is not the reality for a lot of people. Even in my area, during the pandemic and now, there has been an increase in people having to live in their cars. Because my daughter works as a server at a restaurant and doesnโt have her driverโs license yet, just her basic learnerโs, she relies on me to pick her up from the last ferry coming in at night, at ten p.m. As I drive to the ferry, I pass vehicles parked on the side of the road, in a pull-out surrounded by trees, in the dirt parking lots of hiking and biking trails, and even down at the ferry terminal, parked at the end, out of the way enough that they are not bothering anyone and hoping theyโll be left alone.
Think about it: If this were you, and this could happen to any one of us, what would you want someone to do? Instead of the police warning these people and telling them to move on, you know, out of sight, out of mind, how about offering the human decency of a helping hand? People need a place to go instead of hearing over and over that thereโs no room at the inn, and you canโt park here, so move on.
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New Release
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Are you a super fan of the Friessens, O’Connells, McCabes and more? I’m looking for eager readers to join my brand new Facebook street team to provide feedback and share your enthusiasm for my stories via reviews, social media and good ‘ole word-of-mouth. Interested? Click the button below to join the team.
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Can you think of anything more hurtful than someone using you as a scapegoat, accusing you of something you didnโt do, or lying about you and being believed over you because of who he or she is? Saturday was the release day for Broken Promises, which is about Reine Colbert, little Evaโs mom, who was granted parole and released from prison. Yet her release soon had her experiencing an abuse of power that happens too often to vulnerable people who donโt have the means to protect themselves, and it goes unchecked, flying under the radar, as the mainstream media donโt report on it.
A simple definition of abuse of power is the misuse of oneโs position of power to take unfair and unjust advantage of people. What happens to a person who finds herself at a disadvantage, subject to abuse, especially when she doesnโt have the financial means to hire a lawyer to protect herself? Reineโs voice was taken from her, and sheโd been stripped of any and all rights, being forced to follow a set of rules that would keep her from her daughter. Everything Reine did was because of Eva, whom she loves more than her next breath, and that left her with a burning anger that had only grown deeper, whether justified or not, toward Marcus OโConnell. Reine held him responsible for the shitty hand sheโd been dealt.
As well, Reine had to report to her parole officer, a man who was anything but honorable and decent yet could show up whenever he wanted to wield power over her. Basically, he was the gatekeeper to her freedom, dangling the fact that she was one step from being locked back up again over her head. When he hit her, she knew sheโd never be believed because of who she was. How often is the abuse of women by someone in a power position swept under the carpet or refused an investigation? Worse, victims are told that because of who they are, different rules apply, so reporting the abuse makes their lives only more difficult.
Credibility is everything, and so is the illusion of credibility given to a certain class of people, whether deserved or not.
Staying silent and keeping her head down was unfortunately Reineโs only recourse. She swallowed the hurt, the anger, the pain. Yet not longer after, she was accused of stealing from an old woman. According to her boss and the old womanโs daughter, who both pointed a finger at her, she had the opportunity to commit the theft, and the jewelry had been there before she was left alone with the old woman and was gone after. All it took for her parole to be revoked was the word of her boss and the old womanโs daughter, because they were seen as credible, a business owner and a property owner against someone who had nothing.
Unfortunately, someone of means can accuse someone of stealing based on as little as his or her word, especially if the person being accused doesnโt have the financial means to hire a lawyer for protection against that kind of assault, even when the evidence is purely circumstantial. Whether to charge is left up to the discretion of the police and the DA. Reine had too many strikes against her, having been released from prison on parole and already violated one condition when she showed up on Marcusโs doorstep. Her credibility was already in the toilet. Never mind the miserable fact that she had been left alone in the home with the old woman on the orders of her boss and the nurse she worked under for hours without pay, doing a job she wasnโt hired to do.
Could she have spoken up? In her mind, she couldnโt have, because that would have meant losing her job, and her employment was a condition of her parole. When the family called her boss and reported the stolen jewels, their word was all it took for Reine to be arrested, to have her freedom taken away again, and, worse, for people to believe sheโd done it. She didnโt have a clue how to get them to see the truth. It was her word against two members of the public who were automatically deemed to have credibility and were believed over her.
Was it an open and shut case? It was circumstantial. When arresting Reine, Sherriff Marcus hoped she would just confess to the crime to make it easier for him. Marcus and Harold believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was guilty all because of who had pointed the finger at her. When under investigation for stealing, you should not speak to anyone, especially the police, at your home, at work, or anywhere else unless you have a lawyer there with you. The police have been trained to trip you up and get you to make the kind of inconsistent and incriminating statements that can and will be held against you. Even if you say something to someone else, not the police, that person could issue a statement to the police. In Reineโs case, one thing she did well was to shut her mouth, but that still didnโt save her.
Being wrongly accused of theft is a horrible situation, especially when the evidence is circumstantial and one personโs word means more than someone elseโs. Has there been a time in your life when someone deliberately accused you of doing something you didnโt, and that person was believed over you?
Coming to Audio Tomorrow
Narrated by Jennifer Pickens
Most cops have a past. A past, they can speak of. A past, they can share. But not Dianeโฆ.
BOUNTY will be available at Audible and Apple Books on August 3rd!
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If you are not currently an Audible member, you can still sign up and claim a free code without signing up for a membership or subscription. If you have any issues, Audible’s Customer Care team is just one phone call away & are happy to help–you can reach them directly at (888) 283-5051.
New Release
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The O'Connells
The OโConnells of Livingston, Montana, are not your typical family. Follow them on their journey to the dark and dangerous side of love in a series of romantic thrillers you wonโt want to miss.
Are you a super fan of the Friessens, O’Connells, McCabes and more? I’m looking for eager readers to join my brand new Facebook street team to provide feedback and share your enthusiasm for my stories via reviews, social media and good ‘ole word-of-mouth. Interested? Click the button below to join the team.
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As always, thank you for your consideration and support–I’m truly grateful!
Can you believe that the wage gap, and wage inequality because of gender or skin color, still exists? Yes, after many decades of hearing about this, men apparently still make more than women. Politicians of the past have said they are tackling this inequality, but change still has not been made. The big problem is how. How do you really force a business or institution to actually be honest and decent and pay people what theyโre worth rather than basing pay on gender or skin color? Now, I wrote a blog post about this a while ago when my daughter brought to my attention the wage inequality among women alone, where an Asian woman makes more than a white woman, who makes more than a black woman, who makes more than a Mexican woman.
In Above the Law, the chiefโs wife, Gail, gives Detective Friessen a wakeup call, sitting him down to tell him he makes more money than his co-worker Deputy Carmen, who is both female and not white. Mark is shocked because the inequality wasnโt even on his radar. The problem is that if it doesnโt affect you and you donโt see it, how can you even know itโs a problem? Iโve said to my kids, and Iโm sure I sound like a broken record, that it really is up to their generation to fix all the screwups and the inequality, all the problems my generation and the ones before us have created but seem unable to fix.
One of the glaring issues right now, especially with the vast number of low-paying jobs available, is that pay inequality is even more pronounced than ever. Look at your area, where you live. How many jobs are available? Right now, here, there are so many jobs. I glance at the pages and pages of help-wanted ads and see that employers are in desperate need of workers. Okay, great, but while employers need workers, those workers need to be able to live somewhere, to have a roof over their head instead of a tent. So until someone is actually willing to bite the bullet and fix the housing crisis, those pages and pages of positions are not going to be filled.
Of that vast list of jobs, many are in the hospitality and service sector, which was hit hardest during the pandemic. These workers were the first to lose their jobs. But right now, apparently theyโre not too interested in returning to the same low-paying jobs in an industry that tossed them aside so easily. I canโt blame them in the least, because one thing about this pandemic is that it has really shone a spotlight on pay inequality, racial injustice, and a shitload of other problems that have never been fixed.
Back to the jobs being offered. What many of these employers are doing is offering a higher rate of pay to new employees than to their current employees, who stayed on and worked through the pandemic. When I first saw this, I wondered whether employers actually believe their employees are so stupid that they wonโt look at that same help-wanted section and realize that the starting wage for someone new is more than what theyโre making.
I donโt know about you, but Iโve told my kids that they owe no loyalty to underhanded employers who would pay them less and keep paying them less than someone new. As an employer, if you bring in someone new and pay him or her more money than your existing loyal employees who have been with you through the hard times, youโll have only yourself to blame when those employees walk out the door.
Is this sort of pay inequality illegal? No, itโs not. But it does make the employer a shithead, and word will get out until the business becomes a revolving door of instability, having to constantly train new workers who are looking for something better somewhere else because they know their employer has no loyalty to them. So what do you get? A business that will continue to struggle.
One thing about businesses in the service industry is that when employees are treated well and are happy, not being screwed over, that reflects in the job they do, in their customer service. Great customer service is reflective of a workplace that knows how to look after its employees.
Are you a super fan of the Friessens, O’Connells, McCabes and more? I’m looking for eager readers to join my brand new Facebook street team to provide feedback and share your enthusiasm for my stories via reviews, social media and good ‘ole word-of-mouth. Interested? Click the button below to join the team.
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As always, thank you for your consideration and support–I’m truly grateful!
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