Wonders Never Cease (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 6

  “The light changed. My foot slipped off the clutch and my car stalled.”

  Penny let out a howl of laughter. “You’re kidding, right? You’re just saying that to make my day.”

  Jill noticed a particularly buff blonde in a two-piece Lycra number looking their way; she felt her cheeks blossom with color. “That’s not the worst of it,” she confessed in a low voice.

  Penny led the way into the changing room and turned to face Jill. “What could be worse?”

  “My car wouldn’t start right at first, and when it did I shot across the intersection. Naturally, the light had turned red again. And at the cross street, the first car in line was a cop. He pulled me over.”

  Jill stood Tristan on the aquamarine bench and pitched their bags into an open locker. She could hear Penny trying to control her laughter. “This isn’t funny, Pen.”

  Penny’s giggles machine-gunned in a choking sound. “What did the cop say? No, don’t tell me. This is too rich to take in all at once.”

  “You’re a scavenger, aren’t you? See a person down and bleeding and you look for gore.” Jill pouted; Tristan mimicked her.

  Jill thought about the humiliating encounter as she changed into her swimsuit. Once Jimmy Fowler—a decent if slightly redneck cop—realized whom he’d stopped, he’d lambasted Jill for defaming his newest comrade in arms. He lectured for a full five minutes about the worthwhile contribution of the canine patrol and the saintly qualities of Ben Jacobs.

  Nope, the details of this ticket were going with her to her grave. The only good thing to come of the whole event was Jimmy’s inadvertent revelations about Bullion’s newest crime fighter—namely, a sister living in Bakersfield and a brother-in-law who was a long-haul trucker. Facts that Jill found interesting, although she wasn’t sure why.

  “We’ll meet you there,” she said, picking up Tristan and heading for the pool. She shouldered the door open and walked in—momentarily assaulted by the warm moist air, thick with the smell of chlorine.

  “Okay, Tristan, let’s see that great physique of yours,” she teased, standing the little boy atop a white resin patio table. Gooseflesh popped up on his arms and tummy when she stripped off his snugly outfit. “There’s my man. My main man.” She held up one pudgy little arm and gave him a high five. She kicked off her sandals and draped her cover-up over a chair. The pebbled concrete under her feet was wet and cold.

  She tried to suppress a shiver as she hefted Tristan to her left hip and headed for the pool. “Hey, baby, are we going to have fun or what?” she asked him, trying to keep his attention focused on her. “Remember last week how much fun we had, splashing and bobbing and choking?”

  Jill stepped into the water without stopping. Normally she liked to work her way in slowly, but the instructor told her fast was the better way to go with babies, so she stepped down, down, down until the water was midway between her waist and chest.

  Tristan had a look of surprise on his face. His little fingers dug into her as she bobbed around, getting him wet up to his shoulders. He locked his legs around her waist but didn’t seem overly distressed. “At least you’re smiling,” she told him. “You know how I hate it when you cry.”

  Jill saw Penny and Trevor come into the pool area. Penny tossed her towel onto the same chair, intent on getting Trevor into the water with as little fuss as possible. Jill saw his chubby body go rigid and his arms wrap in a death grip around his mother’s neck.

  Tristan tried to wiggle out of her arms to see his mom, so Jill danced sideways, pretending they were waltzing in the water. His bright baby laughter filled the steamy room. Jill felt a clenching sensation deep within her womb, and the tears rushed to her eyes.

  “Is everybody ready?” the instructor asked, joining the group in the pool. “It’s blow-and-dunk time.”

  Jill felt herself tense. This was a bit traumatic for both the babies and their mothers. Even Jill, a pseudomom, didn’t like this part, but she knew it was important. Keeping eye contact with Tristan, she kissed his nose, then quickly blew in his face while simultaneously dunking them both underwater. Blinking against the chlorine, she kept her eyes open and she could see his look of surprise, but at least his mouth was closed. They bounced back up.

  Tristan bunched up his face and prepared himself for a giant scream, but Jill hugged him tight, twirling around, lavishing him with praise. Slowly, his body began to relax. Jill knew she wasn’t a natural at this mom business, but she was a fast study and she’d gleaned all the tricks she could from the real moms.

  “Let’s do it again, Mommies,” the instructor called.

  Jill shook her head, making her wet ponytail flip back and forth, spraying Tristan. He laughed, and when he wasn’t expecting it, she blew in his face and dunked them both again.

  He came up sputtering but still smiling. Jill was so engrossed in the child, she didn’t notice the man at the viewing window above them.

  SHE HAS A CHILD.

  Ben wasn’t sure why the idea disturbed him. Was it because it seemed so contrary to the image he had of her?

  “Your first time here?” a voice said, cutting into Ben’s reverie of the scene below him.

  He glanced to his left to find a petite blonde in a two-piece fuchsia aerobics outfit that showed off her anodized purple belly ring. Her crown of frothy curls was clamped into a topknot by a plastic clip. A faint gleam of sweat beaded her forehead and above her strawberry-red lips.

  “Yes. Just checking it out,” Ben said sociably. That’s what his sister had suggested—check out the local health clubs for possible babes.

  “I’m Amee. Two e’s.” She held out a slim hand adorned with sculpted nails the same color as her lipstick. On the third finger, Ben spotted a tiny gold hoop dangling from the glossy nail. No other rings on any fingers.

  “Ben Jacobs.” He shook her hand, letting go before she did.

  “Oh. I thought you looked familiar. You’re the new policeman, right? The one with the dog.”

  “Yes.”

  “I read about you in the paper.”

  Ben was curious about her reaction to the story. So far, the piece had earned him a mild roasting by his peers, but nothing adverse from the public that he could see. “Did you like it?”

  “Well, I just saw the picture when I was getting my nails done. I don’t have time to read much. Your dog sure looks scary.”

  “He’s a pussycat, except with the bad guys.”

  She smiled sweetly. She probably was sweet. A sweet kid, who didn’t interest him in the least. Against his will, he looked over his shoulder at the pool.

  “Do you swim?” Amee asked.

  “Laps.” Ben was disappointed to see the pool empty.

  “We have a great lap pool here. Come on, let me show around.” She took his hand before Ben could protest and started dragging him toward a door at the opposite end of the room.

  “I really don’t think a health club is my kind of—” She didn’t let him finish.

  “You can’t make up your mind before you’ve given the place a chance. That wouldn’t be fair. And policemen are supposed to be fair, right?”

  She was right; police officers were supposed to be fair. He’d give the place a chance; he’d even give Amee—two e’s—a chance, though part of him was on the lookout for a spunky redhead in a black swimsuit.

  THE WEIGHT OF HER PONYTAIL, more wet than dry, made Jill roll her neck to relieve the pressure. Tristan used the opportunity to grab a handful of hair and tug.

  “Yikes boy, that hurts. Want me to pull your hair?”

  Penny bumped her forward, herding Jill toward the car. “Children. Children. Let’s get going before my boobs explode. Lisle must be screaming, and at some maternal level I can sense it. Her daddy gets so upset when his little angel cries.”

  In many ways Jill envied Penny’s life and craved a child of her own, but some days she was certain she didn’t have the patience or attention span it took to raise a child. She loved her Saturday mornings
with Penny and the boys but was usually relieved, albeit guiltily, to head home alone.

  Jill had planned on having kids, two, in fact; she knew what it meant to be an only child. But Peter never gave her that option. One day, when she brought up the subject, he told her to count him out.

  “This is a joint undertaking,” Jill had cajoled. “I can’t do it alone, but I really do want kids, Peter. Not right this minute but eventually.”

  Like a child caught lying, Peter hated it when his elaborate fabrications collapsed around him and usually tried to make it someone else’s fault. “Well, you will have to do it alone, if it’s so damn important, because I had a vasectomy when I was in college.”

  Jill couldn’t have been more stunned. Hurt, shock, anger were only a few of the emotions surging through her, but he never gave her time to assimilate them. He’d taken her hands in his and said, “I know I should have confessed this before we were married but I was afraid of losing you, Jilly. I had the operation right after Diane gave birth to Dougie. I couldn’t stand it that he was retarded.”

  “Down’s syndrome isn’t hereditary, Peter,” Jill had replied.

  “It could be. She’s my sister, we share the same genes. My mother’s youngest brother was slow, too. What if it runs in families? I couldn’t live with that, Jill,” he’d pleaded. “You know me, I couldn’t stand it if our child was less than perfect.”

  Jill understood. Peter wanted everything perfect—car, home, work and wife. He had a lot of good qualities, but tolerance for anything that interfered with the order of his life wasn’t one of them.

  “So, what are you doing the rest of this fine autumn day?” Penny asked, taking Tristan from Jill’s arms once Travis was strapped in.

  “Oh, not much. Trim my roses, e-mail my dad, maybe take a run out to Vista Road to see if I can find Dorry Fishbank’s place.”

  Penny snapped the harness of Tristan’s car seat then spun around. “What did you say?”

  “Roses…e-mail…Dorry.”

  “Are you nuts?” Penny exploded. “You can’t go up there.”

  Jill took a step backward. “Why?”

  “Because it’s dangerous. Don’t you read that rag you work for? The Fishbank brothers are drug dealers. They get busted once or twice a year for growing and selling marijuana.”

  “So? I don’t want to see them.”

  “Dorry lives with them, Jill. Their parents are lazy ne’er-do-wells.” Jill smiled at the old-fashioned word. “Pay attention. I’m serious. Remember what happened last month with those park-service workers? They stumbled across some pot growers’ booby traps set up on National Forest land. Richard Morse lost three fingers on his right hand.”

  Jill grimaced.

  “They don’t like trespassers,” Penny continued. “They hurt people who get in their way. You can’t go there.”

  Jill hated to be told she couldn’t do something. “I’m not interested in their little agronomy project. I just want to talk to Dorry.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Penny grabbed Jill about the shoulders. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing. Let go.”

  “No. You’re not going. Even if I have to call the police.”

  Jill’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, I would. I’ll call and ask for that new cop. The one you did the story on. I bet he’d be happy to arrest you.”

  “For what?” Jill cried.

  “That was my question.”

  The masculine voice, low and faintly amused, crashed between them like a bucket of ice water. Jill jumped back, and Penny ducked behind her. Jill saw the too-familiar face of Ben Jacobs and groaned. Penny made a gleeful sound that Jill could happily have shot her for, and shoved her friend aside.

  “You’re him.”

  Ben put out his hand. “Ben Jacobs.”

  “Penny Baylor,” Penny said, squeezing his hand in a robust greeting. “Who said you can’t find a cop when you need one?” She flashed Jill a smug look. “Officer, this woman is a danger to herself and probably others and you can’t let her do what she’s planning to do.”

  “Armed robbery?” he asked, giving Jill an unrelenting stare that made her all too conscious of her lack of makeup and stringy hair.

  “Just plain trouble.”

  He nodded, as if he understood completely.

  “Hey,” Jill complained, “that’s not fair. I was just going to visit a friend.”

  His eyes narrowed. “The one who works at the courthouse?”

  Penny squinted at Jill, too. “Jill, what have you done?”

  “Nothing,” Jill cried. How had this gotten so blown out of proportion? “I talked to Dorry on Wednesday, and she didn’t show up for work on Friday, that doesn’t make it my fault. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  Neither looked convinced, but Penny relented first. “I believe you, but you still can’t go anywhere near the Fishbank place alone. They are weird, unpleasant people at the very least. Dorry’s the only normal one. Those brothers of hers…” She shuddered extravagantly, then looked at Ben. “You’ll have to go with her.”

  Jill started to protest, but Penny held up her hand. “It’s your duty. To serve and protect, right? Well, she needs protection. Believe me.” She suddenly clamped both hands to her chest and let out a yip. “Time to go. Have lunch will travel.”

  Penny dashed to the driver’s door and jumped into the Jeep. As she was pulling out, Ben said, “Doesn’t she have your child?” pointing to the towhead waving goodbye from his car seat.

  “I wish that were my child,” Jill said softly, then bit her tongue. Mattie’s Rule Number Eight: If you’re going to waste your time wishing, wish for rain—at least somebody will benefit from it. “Nope. I just borrow him occasionally.”

  “THIS IS NOT MY FAULT,” Jill complained for the tenth time.

  “I didn’t say it was,” Ben replied, trying to keep a lid on his temper. Something about this woman could push his buttons faster than anyone he ever met.

  “You’re thinking it. Isn’t he, Czar?”

  Czar barked.

  Ben stifled a groan. In the hour and twenty-five minutes they’d spent on this wild-goose chase, Jill Martin had carried on a running dialogue with his partner, his dog. And occasionally it seemed as though Czar was answering her.

  “All I asked was whether or not Juniper was a through road.”

  “How would I know?” she replied equably. “I’ve never been on this road in my life.”

  “I thought you said this woman was your friend.”

  Her cheeks bloomed. Without makeup, Jill Martin looked sixteen. A dangerous age for a man his age. “I used that word in the generic sense. Dorry and I went to school together, but she was a couple of years ahead of me. We didn’t hang out together. Plus, her parents got busted for dope and her older brother beat up a teacher. Something like that can really screw up your social life in high school—you know how kids are.”

  You mean like being the center of gossip when your dad gets drunk and wraps the family car around a tree?

  “What I don’t get is why you’re so worried about her.”

  “Maybe worried is the wrong word. I’m concerned because I couldn’t get a satisfactory explanation from her brother last night about why Dorry missed work yesterday. It’s not like her.”

  “People miss work all the time, that’s why there’s sick leave.”

  “Not Dorry. She’s got a perfect attendance record. And her supervisor said she didn’t call in sick. Then when I called during the day, no one answered.”

  “So she played hooky.” They’d been over this ground half a dozen times, but Ben sensed she was hiding something, and he knew from experience that the best way to get information from a suspect was to keep him talking. “And regardless of her reason, it’s her problem, Jill. How does Dorry’s job attendance affect you? Are you working on a story?”

  Her mouth took on a m
ulish set. “I’d rather not say.”

  “Maybe you’d rather walk back to town,” he muttered.

  “What was that? What he’d say, Czar?”

  Ben shot Czar a warning look. Czar pulled his head back into the rear compartment.

  “Why don’t you call on your radio again?” she suggested.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  His hands tightened on the wheel. “Because.”

  She snorted. “Oh, right, it’s a guy thing. Peter—my ex—would never ask for directions, either.”

  “I’m not calling in again because this is not official business. Do you want me to make it official business?”

  Her mouth snapped closed.

  “Tell me more about the Fishbanks. Why was Penny so worried about your being out here alone?”

  Jill shrugged. “The drug thing, I guess.”

  “What drug thing?”

  “Dorry’s brothers reputedly have a pot patch somewhere up in these hills. They get busted every few months, but usually just one at a time—there are three of them—so the other two keep things going. Must be frustrating as heck for the cops.”

  Amos had briefed Ben about the area’s problem with large-scale marijuana cultivation; some of these “businessmen” invested big bucks in camouflage, irrigation systems and perimeter protection.

  The Blazer’s right front tire dropped into a pothole the size of a wine barrel. Ben cursed as the steering wheel bucked beneath his hands.

  “Thanks for doing this,” Jill said softly. “My car wouldn’t have lasted a mile over these roads.”

  “So, it stays nice and clean while mine gets coated in dust,” he groused. She was hard enough to take when she was acting prickly and defensive, he wasn’t ready for sweet and appreciative. “Is it always so dusty around here?’

  “Heck no, in January it’ll be pure mud.”

  “I saw a swing set in the yard back there. How do kids get to town for school?”

  “There are bus stops on the main road. Or they stay with friends. Some rent rooms from town people.” She sat up straighter. “That reminds me. I think Dorry rented a room from Penny’s mom one year.”