Chapter 4
M
y mouth was full of orange cheese when I spotted him. I was standing over a half-eaten nut-coated cheese ball in the deli department. One hand rested on a plastic knife and my other hand was buried in a basket of broken crackers when someone cleared his throat. I looked up at the one person in Truhart I never wanted to see again.
“Hungry?”
“No . . . therapy,” I said. He looked confused. “Never mind.”
I wasn't about to explain my need to expose myself to certain things that would normally make me cringe. Like an open tray of cheese and crackers, or the handle of a shopping cart. Or that exposure therapy was a proven way to counteract my OCD behavior and make the anxiety disappear. And it was helping today. Despite the distraction of Officer Hardy, I found myself relaxing. I could almost pretend I was normal.
Officer Hardy's eyes moved from my worn boots and tight jeans to the clinging Led Zeppelin T-shirt and the uneven old cardigan I had thrown on before leaving the house. No doubt he thought my clothing matched my culinary taste.
He looked pretty hunky in his uniform and clean boots today. But he was the last man on earth I wanted to admire. He tightened the muscle on his jaw. I must have looked even worse than I thought.
He started to say something until his eyes locked on the contents of my shopping cart. Candy galore, marshmallows, and several boxes of Twinkies. Ingredients for Nestor's Pottawatomi pie. And yes, some comfort food for me.
“Going organic, I see?” he asked.
A blanket of embarrassed heat spread over me. This man had no business scowling at me. His collar was so starched it probably cut into his neck.
“Well, good morning to you too, Officer Hardy,” I said sarcastically with my mouth still full. I offered him a cheese and cracker. “Want one?”
He frowned and stared at the arc of curls that had settled low over my right eye. “No, thanks.”
“Is it against the law for me to eat samples, Officer?” I asked, unsuccessfully tossing my hair aside with the back of my hand.
He clenched his jaw and said, “No . . . I guess all the dancing gave you an appetite.”
I stuffed the crackers in my mouth and chewed quickly. I wasn't going to bother explaining that I had barely eaten in forty-eight hours. Or that I was purposely eating off the tray as part of my therapy. My chapped hands reminded me that looking after myself was more important than pleasing Mr. Starched Collar.
“Excuse me, I'm looking for doughnuts,” I said with my mouth still full. I pointed to a display against the wall and practically ran over his foot as I angled the cart away.
I reached for a box of Krispy Kremes and couldn't help glancing back at him. But he was distracted by a large brown-haired lady wearing a green Family Fare smock and clutching a clipboard. Officer Hardy bowed his head as he listened to what she was saying. Then they glanced directly down an aisle where several teenagers lingered near the candy. One pimple-faced skinny kid noticed Officer Hardy watching him and elbowed his friend. Officer Hardy waved. They waved. A pack of gum was placed back on the shelf.
I moved my squeaky cart away from the baked goods and put Officer Hardy out of my mind. Or at least I tried to.
I had never been the kind of girl who fawned over teen idols and decorated my bedroom with posters of the latest heartthrobs. Not that my mother would have let me do that to my bedroom walls anyway. My college friends used to tease me because I didn't engage in their debates about the sexiest men on the cover of
People
or even the sexiest professors on campus. I didn't even flirt with my dad's big donors at his fund-raising events like my sister, Alexa. But something about Officer Hardy was making me think I was experiencing another late-phase bout of teen hormones.
Seriously? I ought to have my head examined again if I was feeling anything toward an officer of the law. Especially one as obnoxious as J. D. Hardy. I wandered to the magazine rack, hoping to replace my visions of Officer Hardy with someone like Bradley Cooper or Ryan Gosling. But my mind was too distracted to appreciate the stars on the covers in front of me. So, I reached above the magazine rack and picked up several books.
As I mindlessly scanned the paperbacks, hoping to find something to distract me from Officer Hardy, I thought about how he looked in the daylight. He seemed more human. I suppose the fact that he was teasing me about junk food, rather than scaring me to death at the living-room window, had something to do with that.
Normally, I shunned the blatant covers of the romances. Real Literature, the kind with a capital L was found in the library, not the grocery store. But now, I studied the paperbacks with a new curiosity. The artwork on the covers showed half-naked men and women in very compromising positions. I wondered if they used real models for those. My mind wandered to Officer Hardy. Oh my God, if he had been wearing next to nothing last night he would look just like some of those covers. Well, hell. Perhaps I needed to take therapy even further. I added a book to my cart.
That was when I noticed a skinny girl browsing the teen-gossip magazines next to me. Her shoulders slouched forward and her greasy hair hung in her face, making it hard to see her eyes. She was probably in high school, but with teens it was hard to tell. Although I had a teaching degree, I had little actual experience with teenagers. I often joined my dad when he volunteered in high schools in D.C. Each time we visited a low-income urban school, Dad could hardly wait to get on to what he considered more important duties. But I often returned alone.
Of course, I couldn't imagine anyone approving of Congressman Lively's daughter getting within a half mile of those kids now.
The girl beside me shifted back and forth nervously. Something wasn't right about her body language. I grabbed the handles of my cart and shrugged. I wasn't even going to take a second look at the bulge in the girl's armpit or the way she kept her arm stiffly to the side. I was not involved.
I was halfway down the aisle when I spotted my hunky nemesis. He walked past me in a smooth, even gait that would have reminded me of a tiger stalking its prey if it wasn't accompanied by a squelching sound every time he took a step. A reminder of last night's run-in.
I took advantage of the fact that he wasn't focused on me and I leaned in to my shopping cart. I was almost to the toilet-paper section when I heard a scuffle and someone ran into me from behind. Before either one of us had a chance to say anything, Officer Hardy's hand snaked out and grabbed the girl's elbow.
“Forget your cart, Cherry?”
The girl looked up and for a split second I saw fear in her eyes. Then a mask settled over her face. “Leave me alone for once. You are always harassing people. Don't you have something better to do?”
She squirmed out of his grasp and shifted her shoulders to hide what was bulging inside her oversized black jacket. Officer Hardy's eyebrows lowered and his jaw set. He had the same harsh look on his face that he had worn last night when he practically manhandled me. I wouldn't have been surprised if he handcuffed her right there in front of the toothpaste.
Still, not my business. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I angled my cart out of the way and tried to keep moving. The girl let out a harsh breath and I turned, seeing something new in her eyes. It reminded me of my own panic I had been trying to forget for weeks.
“She's with me, Officer. Leave her alone,” I said.
Both faces turned to me; one in astonishment, another in disgust.
“Oh, for Christ's sake! Tell me I'm having a nightmare. I should have known you would try to screw this up.”
“I'm not going to screw up anything, Officer Hardy. This is all just a minor misunderstanding,” I said.
If looks could kill, J. D. Hardy was committing homicide. The young girl tried to take advantage of the situation. With Officer Hardy's attention on me, she crept backward on her toes, inch by inch, until Officer Hardy barred her way with my cart, never taking his eyes off me.
“Stay right there,” he commanded her.
I clenched my hands to hide the fact that I was shaking. “You seem to enjoy frightening young girls as much as you do women in empty houses. Are you going to read this girl her rights for a crime that hasn't been committed, or just stand around scowling like that?”
The greasy-haired girl folded her arms to her chest and I couldn't help admiring her bravado. The bulge in her coat made it obvious she was still hiding something, but she eyed him with a contempt that was pretty impressive for an underage thief.
Officer Hardy closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he was back in control. “Okay, Miss Lively, if you're so smart, explain what it is Cherry has stashed up her sleeve. And before you deny it, we will have footage on a videotape showing her attempting to shoplift.” He gestured to the security camera in the ceiling.
“She isn't really hiding anything at all,” I corrected in my best foundation spokesperson's voice. “And it's not a crime if she hasn't left the store.”
“Oh, and when did you get your law degree?” he said in an equally casual tone. I wasn't fooled. He was having trouble restraining himself from strangling me. Then he did something strange. He reached over and rubbed his thumb across the corner of my mouth. I looked down and saw a tiny piece of cheese on his thumb. As if he'd done nothing out of the ordinary, he pulled out a tissue and wiped his hand before he continued. “You do realize that if you are covering for her I can bring you up on charges of obstruction of justice. As far as I'm concerned, you are every bit as guilty as a would-be shoplifter if you're trying to protect her. That makes you an accomplice.”
“Of course I know that,” I snapped. What was I doing? Had I lost my mind?
I stared at the girl, trying to think. For the first time I noticed a smattering of freckles on her nose and the fact that she had beautiful light green eyes. The girl stared back at me and said nothing.
If it had been anyone else but Officer Hardy, I am sure I would have been in my car by now and away from this scene. But I was past the point of no return. For the second time in a year I was about to tell a great big lie.
“Well, I told her I would buy her some things. . . .”
A muscle in his jaw quivered. “What exactly did you buy for her?”
I prayed the girl didn't have anything else up her sleeve, like a bottle of wine from the prominent display at the end of the aisle. There was no way I would be excused for purchasing liquor for a minor. I had been the president of Students Against Drunk Driving in high school. It was a club I had been passionate about.
I thought carefully and hedged my bets.
“What did I buy her . . . Oh, you know,” I said in a casual voice. “Magazines and things.”
He reached for the girl's coat. She started struggling again and managed to string some rather impressive obscenities together. I was beginning to get the feeling that these two knew each other well.
“You can either hand over what you're hiding, or I take you both to the station. And you know how that will go down,” he said, tilting his head and leaning down until his eyes were level with hers. “Your choice, Cherry.”
“Just don't get your panties in a wad, J. D. I'll show you!”
She opened the inside of her jacket and lifted out several magazines for him to see before tossing them in the cart with a touch of dramatic flair.
“I was storing these under my arm so I could use both hands to reach this big box of . . .” she paused, looking around.
“Of tampons!” I said with gusto as I grabbed a box on a nearby shelf. “I guess Officer Hardy doesn't understand how cumbersome those bargain sizes can be,” I added, feeling ashamed at the amount of fun I was beginning to have duping the guy.
The young girl lifted her chin in triumph as if she were the queen herself. “I thought you were going to wait for me. If you had, I would have put these in the cart and we wouldn't be standing here with Officer Hard-ass!”
I couldn't quite hide my smile at the not-so-subtle dig at Officer Hardy. But when he glared at me, I wiped it off my face. I was about to cover for a juvenile delinquent. I should be furious with my lawlessness. But I figured if I was going to lie, I might as well make it convincing.
“I was so busy browsing through”âI looked at the title of the vampire romance novel in my cartâ“
Fifty Fangs of Grey
that I completely forgot about your magazines, Cherry dear.” The girl's eyes popped wide in surprise. The half-naked vampire cover was clearly displayed for all to see. I threw a bag of marshmallows over it. She was too young for that kind of smut.
“Let's you and me head over to the checkout counter right now and pay for everything,” I said.
“Oh definitely,” said Cherry. “Some people automatically suspect us teens of a crime no matter how innocent we are.”
Officer Hardy stared down at his shoes. His lips moved, as if he was counting. Then, he turned and stomped off. I watched his back, feeling ever so slightly guilty for ruining his morning.
I tossed my head to the side and signaled the girl to follow me to the front of the store. The checkout clerk and several customers stood at the checkout counter, craning their necks over the top of the candy displays as we approached. They must have heard everything. The large woman, who had been talking to J. D. earlier, sat at the front desk to the right of the automatic doors. She ran her hand up and down her neck and bit her lip as if she were having trouble deciding if this was a good or bad ending to the situation.
Everyone scurried back to their places at the registers as my young accomplice and I corralled the grocery cart into the checkout line. This was not how I had envisioned my first encounter with the citizens of Truhart. Hoping they didn't think I was the latest escapee from the insane asylum, I tucked my hair behind my ears and straightened my shoulders.