Page 2 of Shadow of Justice
He squeezed my hand, sending that little thrill of heat through me. It was like that a lot. Even after months as a bona fide couple, the newness of it still caught my breath.
“I suppose not,” he admitted. “I just worry about having an open field. I’d like a known quantity. So if Hojo doesn’t want to run and Kenya won’t come back, that’s a pretty big hole.”
“Nah,” I said. “Let’s be real. The only serious trouble my office would be in is if Caro decided to make good on her threats to retire.”
Sam laughed. “Don’t say that. She’s not seriously considering that, is she? That woman is an institution.”
Carolyn Flowers’s official title was office manager. But she kept us all running like a well-oiled machine no matter who sat in the big office down the hall from mine.
“I hope not.”
“I think Caro’s been working for the county longer than anyone else I know.”
“She has,” I agreed. “Forty-two years. Longer than I’ve been alive. She turns sixty next month. Though she doesn’t want anyone to know. The good news is with Hojo in Kenya’s job, Caro knows he’s sunk without her. She loves him. She wants him to succeed. She’s the original work mom to all of us. For now, I plan to use her codependency as a weapon.”
Our server arrived with our sandwiches. I thanked her and spread my napkin over my lap. Sam managed to take a bite out of his Reuben with such gusto, it made me jealous of the sandwich. God. I was like a teenager around this guy sometimes.
We ate in companionable silence. The chicken salad was delicious. A relief for now. This building had become somewhat of a retail no man’s land over the years with every new store coming in cursed to fail within a year. But we could use a good restaurant in this part of town.
“So,” Sam said. “Is Will ready for school?”
I crunched a chip and wiped my hands on my napkin. “He may be. I don’t know if I am.”
“High school.” Sam smiled. “How’d we get here?”
We. Just that simple word. I liked it. But it scared me too.
“I’m just worried,” I said. “Like always. We got into a pretty good groove at his last school. It’s a lot of changes.”
“He’ll be great, Mara. He’s ready. There will be bumps. All kids have bumps. It’s part of the experience.”
He was right. But my fourteen-year-old son wasn’t like all kids. We’d had a long stretch of stable calm, but that hadn’t always been true. Even the slightest change in Will’s routine could cause a meltdown, or even worse, a shutdown. Sam had been a steadying influence in my son’s life. And in mine. But high school was the great unknown.
“He won’t let me drive him on his first day,” I said. “He wants to ride the bus.”
“He told me. I think it’s good, don’t you?”
“I do,” I admitted.
“How about we both take the day off on his first day? Plan something fun and distracting.”
“I’d like that,” I said. “I’ll have to check my schedule …”
“Sheriff Cruz? That’s you, right? You’re the sheriff? I’ve seen you on the news.”
I looked up. The girl standing at our table looked to be about eighteen or nineteen. She was tall and thin with wheat-blonde hair and a dusting of freckles across her cheeks. Pretty, but her face was deeply flushed and she trembled so badly I feared she might fall over.
“May I help you?” Sam asked, concern filling his face.
The girl looked at me. “You work … you’re the prosecutor, right? I saw you on the news once, too.”
“I am,” I said, deciding it wasn’t the time to point out the finer points of my job description.
“C-can we … I’m sorry. I need to talk to someone. I need to get this out.” She started to cry.
“Honey,” I said, rising, my maternal instincts kicking in. There was something seriously wrong with this girl. She wore a large, crossbody satchel. Whatever was in it looked like it weighed a ton. Sam pulled out another chair and the girl sank into it.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want to interrupt. But you’re both here. I don’t know who else to talk to.”
