The Sheriff & The Amnesiac
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Ryanne Corey
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16,5K
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11
One
Jenny Kyle was getting a headache. This particular headache began with a capital “T,” as in trapped. Quite simply, she couldn’t stand being constrained in any way, shape or form. Especially when it wasn’t her fault.
At least she was an optimistic claustrophobic. As soon as she had everything sorted out with the strong arm of the law, she would leave this unfriendly town of Bridal Veil Falls—Bride Falls on Her Head was more like it, she thought wryly—in the dust. Her headache would be only a memory. One SOS call to good old Lawyer Dearbourne would solve everything. He knew she wasn’t a criminal, at least not a deliberate criminal. It was simply her poor luck that she’d lost her wallet, cash and credit cards. Although she had no doubt she would get a stern lecture when her attorney heard about Jenny’s spur-of-the-moment cross-country motorcycle trip.
“He’s here.” The waitress stuck her finger beneath Jenny’s nose and pointed out the window. “That’s the sheriff. You’re toast.”
Jenny turned her head, dark brown eyes widening as she watched a shiny black police car pulling up in the parking lot. Her headache kicked into high gear. Her palms began to sweat. The door swung open and a pair of dusty cowboy boots hit the ground. Jenny had hoped for a kindly soul, someone who would say, “Golly, shucks,” and have a good chuckle at all these misunderstandings.
Instead, she got the Gladiator of Bridal Veil Falls.
He stepped out into the fading sunlight, a full six-foot four inches of masculine intimidation wrapped up in a slim-fitting beige police uniform. His shoulders went on forever, his hips were narrow, his stomach tight and flat. She couldn’t see much of his face; he wore a cowboy hat pulled low over his forehead. He also wore dark glasses. Jenny had never seen a jaw so square or a chin so intimidating. And those straight lips could have been chiseled from marble.
Jenny dropped her head into her arms on the table. “This is not my day.”
The front door opened and closed. Jenny heard slow, measured steps growing louder and louder…until they stopped right in front of her. She couldn’t bring herself to look up.
“Is this the one?”
His deep voice had a no-nonsense tone. There wasn’t a trace of a friendly country accent. Jenny’s optimism shriveled up like a grape in the sun. She wondered how old she would be before she got out of jail.
The waitress started spilling the whole story from the beginning. She concluded with a disdainful, “Funny thing, sheriff, how she didn’t notice her wallet was gone until after she ate enough food for ten people.”
“I resent that.” Jenny looked up, glaring at the waitress. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the sheriff quite yet. “I ate a well-balanced meal. You try hanging on to a runaway motorcycle for eight hours and see how hungry you get.”
Came the unsympathetic voice of the sheriff: “So that Harley outside is yours?”
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet the sheriff’s sunglasses squarely. “Maybe. At this point, I’m taking the Fifth on everything.”
For a long, uncomfortable moment, he didn’t say anything. At this close range, Jenny could see the manly dent in his manly chin. His slanted cheekbones were perfectly molded, his nose perfectly straight, his posture everything a Marine Corps recruiting poster could ask for. It must be true, she thought glumly, what everyone said about the healthful benefits of fresh country air.
The Gladiator pursed his lips and whistled softly. “What do you know? It’s you.”
Jenny frowned at him, wondering what he was trying to trick her into admitting. “No, it’s not. I don’t know what or who you’re talking about, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just an innocent traveler who happened to lose her wallet. Believe me, I would have taken a detour if I’d known you people in Bride Falls on Her Head were so paranoid and unfriendly.”
“Bridal Veil Falls,” he corrected, a faint smile curling his lips. “You know, the minute I saw your red hair, I knew I was looking at trouble.”
Jenny glared at him, then slid out from the booth, brushing tortilla crumbs off her jeans as she stood up. It was time she adopted a defensive attitude. She felt at a distinct disadvantage sitting. Still, at five foot two she didn’t gain much height. If he put his arm out straight, it would go right over her curly head. “Let’s talk about trouble. I was hungry, so I decided to stop and get something to eat. Before I know it, I’m being accused of all kinds of things I didn’t do. At least, I didn’t do them intentionally. I’m not some career criminal who travels from town to town on her motorcycle ripping off Mexican restaurants—” she threw the waitress a dark look “—despite what she seems to think. And I’ll tell you something else.”
“Oh, boy,” the sheriff drawled. “She’s not done yet.”
“This town has trouble written all over it. Everyone here is hostile.” She paused, then added grudgingly, “Well, that’s not true. That sweet white-haired lady crocheting in the corner booth has been very friendly. She keeps smiling at me. I like her, but otherwise, I can’t wait until I see the last of this place.”
Obviously listening to their conversation, the white-haired lady waved her crocheting needles at the sheriff. “Hello there. You’re looking very handsome in your new hat.”
“Always the sweet-talker, Ella,” the sheriff called out. Then he exchanged a speaking look with the waitress. “You didn’t tell me my grandmother was in here today, Sunny. That kind of puts a new light on things, if you know what I mean.”
“Sunny?” Jenny blurted out incredulously. “Her name is Sunny? She is the least friendly waitress I’ve met in my life. And that lovely lady is your grandmother? How weird is that?”
The sheriff took off his sunglasses, swinging them in slow circles from his finger. The blue-eyed gaze he leveled at Jenny was heavy-lidded, thoughtful and penetrating. He had Baryshnikov eyes, luminous and startling against the smooth, golden-brown tint of his skin. Far more beautiful than she had expected. And much more human.
“Her name is Sunny,” he told her conversationally, “and that lovely lady is indeed my grandmother. My name is Sheriff Cook, but you can call me Tyler. You see? We’re actually a very friendly town, so you don’t have anything to worry about. Now do me a favor and be quiet for a minute. If you’re capable of it. Sunny, how long has Ella been here?”
“Well…most of the afternoon,” Sunny replied, looking uncertain. “I never thought about…well, Dr. Wetzel told me she was doing better. Said she took up crocheting instead.”
The sheriff ignored her, continuing his conversation with Sunny. “Something tells me Ella has had a little relapse. She looks too happy.”
Jenny slapped her forehead with her hand. “What is going on here? Am I going crazy? Or is everyone in this town crazy except me? Why won’t you let me go outside and look for my wallet? What does that nice little lady have to do with anything?”
The sheriff looked sideways at her. “Don’t you ever do anything you’re told? I said to be quiet.”
“I don’t have to be quiet,” Jenny said. “I’m in deep trouble, anyway. What are you going to do, arrest me for using up too much of your oxygen?”
He tipped his hat back on his head, revealing a tangled fringe of honey-colored hair. “You have a really bad attitude. I know your middle name is Trouble. You mind telling me your first and last?”
“Jenny Kyle.” She held his gaze, one golden brow arching defiantly. “Jenny Maria Kyle.”
“You have the right to remain silent, Jenny Trouble Kyle.” He folded his sunglasses and slipped them into his breast pocket. “Take advantage of that right, while I go and have a little talk with Ella.”
Jenny immediately bristled. “That nice woman has done absolutely nothing to…mummph.”
The sheriff was pressing his fingers firmly against Jenny’s lips. “The right to remain silent.”
Jenny’s eyes narrowed dangerously. From the tip of her head down to her toes, her entire body stiffened beneath his touch. Sunny giggled, finding the whole thing immensely entertaining.
“That’s a good girl,” Tyler said. He removed his fingers slowly, by inches, as if prepared to silence her again should she dare open her mouth. “Now, sit.”
“I feel like standing.” The words came out in a rush, before he could react.
It should have made him angry. She had intended to make him angry. Instead his lips crooked in a smile that might have been boyishly beguiling under different circumstances. “Trouble,” he said softly, then walked away.
Jenny had no idea what he said to the poor, dear lady in the corner booth. They spoke too softly to overhear, no matter how hard she strained. She couldn’t even see the woman’s expression, since the sheriff’s broad-shouldered back blocked her view. Jenny could only wait and wonder, her teeth working nervously at her lower lip.
When he returned to her, however, her chin was high and her unsteady fingers were hidden in the pockets of her jeans. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could shake her. She’d done nothing wrong, and she wasn’t about to act as if she had.
But she might have been invisible for all the notice he paid her. He pulled Sunny aside and whispered something to her, nodding his head in Ella’s direction. Sunny listened intently, then hurried to the telephone and made a call.
“I don’t suppose you would like to explain to me what that was all about?” Jenny asked. “Wait a minute. I know! You’re going to arrest that wonderful little woman for being too friendly. I’m sure that’s a felony around here.”
For a long moment Tyler didn’t answer. He simply examined her leisurely, his head tipped to one side. “You know, you really have a problem with authority figures. I think a few years in the big house is going to do you a world of good.”
She gave him her wide-eyed, vulnerable look. “A few years? The big house? What is this, a James Cagney movie?”
“And I don’t see any sign of remorse for your crimes, either,” he went on thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look good for you, Trouble.”
“Give me a break! I lost my stupid wallet, for Pete’s sake!”
“Like I said, a real bad attitude.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Judge Curry doesn’t like anyone with attitude. He doesn’t care much for anyone who rides motorcycles, either. Last Fourth of July a motorcycle gang came tearing through town, right in the middle of the Independence Day Parade. Flattened two flashing barricades and ran over Judge Curry’s bulldog. He had him all dressed up for the occasion, too, with a red, white and blue collar and a little stovepipe hat. It was a real heartbreaker, I’ll tell you.”
Now Jenny sat down, groaning as her head dropped against the back of the booth. “Wonderful. Just shoot me, would you? Shoot me and put me out of my misery.”
“Of course, the judge does have a soft spot for women,” he went on. “You could very well get out in a year or so on good behavior. You know any karate?”
She stared at him. “What?”
“Karate. You know, kickboxing and punching and things like that. Believe it or not, the women’s correctional facility is a lot harder on the inmates than the men’s. You’d be wise to brush up on your self-defense.”
“Do you honestly think I’m buying this?”
He grinned, pushing his hat back another inch. “I don’t really care if you believe it or not. Any family or friends you want me to call before I toss you in the slammer?”
The look she gave him was strangely blank. “What?”
“You’re entitled to a phone call. Would you like to call your poor husband, God bless him?”
“You have such a delightful sense of humor,” she muttered. “If I had a husband, which I don’t, I’d be an idiot to use my one call on him instead of my lawyer.”
“Suit yourself. Oh, I have something for you. With all the excitement of apprehending a dangerous criminal, I almost forgot.” He pulled something out of his back pocket and tossed it on the table. “Look familiar?”
Jenny stared at her green wallet. Her jaw dropped like a stone. “Where did you get that?”
“Actually, Ella just gave it to me. She said to tell you that you have beautiful hair and she hopes she didn’t cause you any trouble. She has a little problem with taking things that aren’t hers. Ella’s an angel, but she’s a couple of beers short of a six-pack, if you know what I mean.”
Jenny felt like someone had put her backward on an upside-down merry-go-round. She stared at sweet little Ella, who was suddenly deeply absorbed in her crocheting. Then she turned her stormy gaze back to the devil disguised as a lawman. She slammed her fists on the table so hard, her wallet jumped two inches with pure terror. “I don’t believe this! You knew all along, didn’t you? You conned me! You knew Ella had stolen my wallet, and you deliberately let me think—”
“I object,” he said mildly. “I haven’t seen you think yet. Besides, Ella isn’t really a thief. She just borrows things sometimes for excitement. She always gives everything back sooner or later. We thought we had her cured when she discovered crocheting. She loved it, never put it down long enough to pick anything else up, if you know what I mean. I guess we’ll still have to watch her.”
His casual attitude infuriated Jenny. “You deliberately tortured me, talking about dangerous women’s prisons and dead bulldogs. You had no intention of arresting me. I should have you arrested!”
His vivid eyes sparkled. “The dog didn’t die. He just rolled over a few times and ruined his hat. Anyway, I’m the only law this town has, so I can’t really arrest myself, can I? Think of the complications putting on the handcuffs.”
Through gritted teeth, Jenny told him, “I’ll help.”
“Oh, chill out. I was just teaching you a lesson. You needed an attitude adjustment.”
“An attitude adjustment?” She was up and out of the booth with amazing speed, facing him down with the light of battle in her eyes. Or rather, facing him up. He was extraordinarily tall. “I’m the victim here! The only thing I’m guilty of is having a rotten day. I’ve been wrestling with that wretched motorcycle all day, and I’m completely exhausted. All I wanted when I stopped here was some food and a rest room. Bam, before I know it, I’m being treated like public enemy number one!”
He took a moment before he answered. “So you admit you have a few problems controlling that monster outside?”
Jenny was too angry to be cautious. “A few problems? The thing is possessed by the devil. I’m lucky to be alive.”
His wide mouth quirked. “I believe you. I know a little something about motorcycles. That Harley is too much machine for you, Trouble.”
“That’s my problem, isn’t it?” She grabbed her wallet, opened it up and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table. “There. My criminal career is ended.”
“And a damn fine career it was,” he said.
“And now, amazing as this experience has been, I feel the urge to hit the road. Excuse me, Sheriff. It’s been a real treat.”
He blocked her exit, one hip braced casually against the edge of the booth. In the depths of his eyes, there was an unmistakable mixture of amusement and sympathy. He held her gaze, rubbing his square jaw for a lazy moment. “Let’s ponder those three words, shall we? Hit the road. Do you realize if you climb back on that motorcycle of yours, there is a very good chance you will do exactly that—splat.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Jenny replied with saccharine sweetness, “but I don’t want you worrying about lil’ old me. I’ve had a lot of experience taking care of myself. Now, is there anything else you would like to accuse me of, or am I free to go? Finally?”
He pulled a stick of Juicy Fruit gum out of his pocket, slowly unwrapped it and put it in his mouth, as if he had all the time in the world. “You forgot to stand in line when they handed out common sense, didn’t you? I’m afraid I can’t in good conscience allow you and your motorcycle out after dark. It would be a much better idea if you waited until morning to hit the road. That way other motorists would have a sporting chance of survival.”
Her eyes narrowed. It irritated her that he was standing so close, confining her, as if he had nothing to do for the rest of his life but make her life difficult. “It’s not dark yet.”
“Worse. It’s dusk. More accidents happen at this time of night than any other. It’s a documented fact.”
“Well, document this. I have places to go, and you’re holding me up.”
His blue eyes opened wide, as if he’d just had the most ingenious thought. “You know, you seem like an adventuresome girl. Why don’t you try something new? Be reasonable.”
“I’m not the one being unreasonable,” she snapped. “Are you going to let me out of here or not?”
“Lord, no.”
“Sorry, Mr. Sheriff, sir. It’s a free country and you don’t really have a say in it.”
He smiled, rocking back and forth on the heels of his well-worn boots. “Would you mind showing me your motorcycle license, ma’am? Just to make sure everything is in order?”
Silence. “My what?”
“License,” he said softly.
“I have a driver’s license—”
“Motorcycle license, ma’am.”
Jenny closed her eyes and counted to ten. “I haven’t gotten around to getting one yet. I’ve only owned the Harley for a couple of days. I’ll take care of it when I go home.”
“That won’t do,” he said almost apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you, ma’am.”
“You’re going to arrest me? For what? Forgetting to get a motorcycle license? Is that a felony around here?”
“It’s very bad,” Tyler said gravely. “Very bad.”
Jenny tossed back her hair defiantly. “Ha! You’re just trying to jerk my chain again. You’re going to put me in jail for a little oversight? That I’d like to see.”
But it happened so fast, she didn’t really see anything. His hands moved quickly over hers, there was a flash of silver and an ominous click.
She was handcuffed.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Tyler began. “You have the right to—”
“What?” Jenny was flabbergasted. A vein beat wildly in her throbbing temple, keeping perfect rhythm with her racing heart. “Are you nuts? You can’t keep me here, and you know it! I could sue you for false arrest. I could have your badge. I could—”
“Now you made me lose my place,” he grumbled. “I’ll have to start all over. You have the right to—”
“If you think for one second that you’re going to get away with this macho power trip, you’ve got another think coming. You picked the wrong—” Without warning, she felt herself being upended and tossed over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a single little Mexi-fry. The red-and-white-checkered linoleum floor filled her bouncing vision.
“Women never take advantage of their right to remain silent,” Tyler Cook said. He started to walk, one arm clasped tightly around the back of her knees. “I don’t know why I even bother saying that part.”
