Connie couldn’t believe she was standing in a store getting a cell phone for her seven-year-old daughter. It seemed surreal. She’d never wanted one for herself, even after the technology arrived in the county, complete with two different carriers to choose from. Of course, she was hooked up by radio to the department, so a cell phone had struck her as just another intrusion.
Not anymore. Now it meant safety. Safety for Sophie. Her daughter would now have an immediate means of calling her mother or calling the sheriff. As Connie scanned the various plans, she started to choose the cheapest one with a minimum of minutes until she realized the obvious: Sophie was bound to use the phone to call friends, at least until the novelty wore off. Like parents everywhere, she gave up the fight before it began and protected herself against sky-high charges by purchasing a plan with more minutes than she thought Sophie could possibly use.
She bought a case to protect the phone, one that would loop fully around Sophie’s belt, not just clip there. Then she got a phone for herself.
She walked out of the store with her plastic bag, feeling that somehow time had slipped its moorings. Conard City—all of Conard County—had always been a safe place for children, as safe as any place could be. She had the strangest feeling that she had switched centuries, that time had warped and carried her into a frightening new world.
Ridiculous, of course. Her time in Denver had exposed her to all this. But Conard County had in many ways escaped the worst of current times.
Climbing back into her cruiser, she gave herself a mental kick in the butt. How many times had she heard someone say on the TV news, “These things just don’t happen in this town”?
They happened everywhere. She knew it then, and she knew it now. The difference, of course, was that her daughter would be the subject of the news story if things didn’t work out.
Her radio crackled even before she pulled out of the parking place.
“Get on back to the office, sweetie,” Velma said. “Gage needs you. Nothing bad.”
A good thing Velma had added that, Connie thought, as she wheeled away from the curb and headed back to the office. Her heart had been caught in mid-slam. Nothing bad.
Five minutes later she was sitting in Gage’s office with the sheriff and Ethan Parish. Ethan’s presence made her uncomfortable in some way. Not fear or anything. Just a sense of discomfort.
“Ethan’s joining the department,” Gage said.
Connie looked at him. “Congratulations.”
He nodded but said nothing.
“I figure it this way,” Gage said. “Nobody knows Ethan yet, so nobody’s gonna know he’s a deputy. So we’re going to put the story out that he’s an old friend of yours from Denver.”
Connie blinked. “Why?”
“Because then he can move into your house and help keep an eye on Sophie.”
Connie’s chest tightened as if it had suddenly been grabbed and squeezed. Her vision narrowed, and the next thing she knew she was leaning forward, gripping the edge of Gage’s desk, panting for air.
She felt, rather than saw, Gage reach her side, felt him grip her shoulders.
“Connie. Connie?”
It was as if she’d been holding it all back, refusing to truly face the reality of the threat to Sophie until this very instant. She’d been scared, she’d been worried, she’d lain awake, but she’d managed to maintain some distance, some control.
In an instant, all that shattered. Reality came home with heart-stopping, mind-pounding force.
“Connie? Do you need medical help?”
She managed a shake of her head. Her voice came out thin, as if she couldn’t get any air into it. “Somebody tried to kidnap my daughter.”
Gage seemed to understand. He squatted beside her, rubbing her shoulder. “Delayed reaction,” he said. “He didn’t succeed, Connie. And we’re not going to let him succeed. That’s why Ethan is going to stay with you. His skills aren’t dulled yet by living here. He’s in peak form. He’ll smell danger before it gets anywhere near Sophie.”
She managed a nod, closed her eyes and fought for control. She wouldn’t be any good to Sophie like this. She had to stay cool. Keep her wits. Finally she began to breathe again and was able to sit up.
The first thing she did was look at Ethan. “Will you?” she asked. “Do you mind?”
His was a face that didn’t smile easily, she could tell, but he gave her a small one now. “Not at all. It’s been a while since I felt useful.”
“Take the rest of the day, Connie,” Gage said, returning to his seat. “Get Ethan settled however you want, get Sophie from school, do whatever you need to so you can cope.” For an instant his gaze grew distant. “I know what it’s like.”
He did, Connie thought. He certainly did.
* * *
Together she and Ethan stopped by the motel to pick up his gear; then they drove to her house. Julia’s eyes widened when Connie walked into the kitchen with Ethan in tow.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“This is Ethan, Mom,” Connie answered. “An old friend. He’s going to stay with us for a while.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “I can smell a fib from fifty feet.”
Ethan surprised Connie by pulling out a chair from the kitchen table so that he and Julia were near eye level. “The truth is, ma’am, I’m here to keep an eye on Sophie. I’m a deputy.”
“A new one.” Julia’s eyes narrowed. “Looks like you’ve seen some grief.”
Ethan shrugged. “The point is, I’ve been hired as personal protection for your granddaughter. Good enough?”
“Better than nothing.”
“Mom!”
Julia looked at her, then back at Ethan. “She hates it when I’m truthful.”
“Well,” said Ethan, “that wasn’t exactly truthful.”
“Why not?”
“Because Connie is protection, too. She’s not nothing.”
At that, Julia cracked a smile. “Okay, then. Go get settled.”
“I have a spare bedroom where—” Connie began, but Ethan interrupted her.
“No bedroom,” he said. “I’ll camp out in the living room. I want to be able to watch the doors.”
“Okay.” At that point, Connie didn’t care. He could perch on the roof if he wanted to, as long as he kept Sophie safe. He tossed his backpack into a corner, out of the way.
“Is it okay if I look around?”
“Help yourself.” Connie dropped her plastic bag on the armchair. “I’m going to have to figure out how to use a cell phone by tomorrow morning.”
“Why is that?”
“I got one for Sophie.”
He nodded. “Good idea.”
“It’s not something I ever thought I’d do for a seven-year-old.”
“Seems smart to me.” Then he gave another small smile. “But don’t look to me for lessons. I’ve never had a cell. I’m a radio kind of guy.”
“I was a radio kind of girl until yesterday.”
She