Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Jackson

I ate a quick dinner at the pub, shoveling down bites of food in between quick exchanges with the host of people who stopped by my table to chat. Despite being alone, I was never lonely in Rosemary Mountain. Everyone knew everyone else in this small town, and most people here had an appreciation for their law enforcement.

A few years back, I had returned to town as a stranger, hiding my past association behind my new name. I knew people were unlikely to recognize a kid who had been a nobody here years before. But when events forced me to tell the truth of who I was, the townsfolk had still accepted me—in fact, to my surprise, they had embraced me even more warmly. I was a local, one of them. I belonged. They called me a hero for changing my life and walking a different path than my father.

The same should be true for Allison, and I hated that it wasn’t. It bothered me that her first shift had been so rough. Bothered me even more that I couldn’t fix it all for her.

I made up my mind to take a closer look into what had happened when her family left town. Information was power, and maybe if I at least understood what some people held against her, I could do something about it.

With that in mind, I went to pay my tab only to find it had already been taken care of.

I whistled as I walked to my truck, my thoughts drifting back to those childhood memories of Allison. I was so distracted I almost didn’t notice the footsteps trailing behind me in the shadows.

Almost.

“What do you want, Russell?” My hand automatically went to my service pistol as I spun around to face him.

Russell moved into the light, grinning as he dropped his cigarette onto the ground and stamped it out with his boot. “Been a long time, young Jackson. Is that any way to greet your pa?”

“You’re no pa to me,” I replied, crossing my arms. When Russell came around, it was always the same song and dance.

He shook his finger. “Your blood says different. Don’t matter how long you try to deny it. That’s Sharp blood running through your veins, and it’ll get you in the end.” His grin turned sly. “Oh, what a story that will be, won’t it? When the town hero finally falls. Good cop gone bad. You’ll see, boy. Blood don’t lie.”

I kept my face straight, even though the words cut me like a knife. They always did. I suspected that’s why he repeated them to me so many times. He knew the quickest way to hurt me was to remind me that I came from him.

“What do you want?” I repeated.

“Money,” he spat out, glaring at me. He hated asking me for money. Hated that I had worked diligently to cut off as many of his illegal activities as I could. It hadn’t been easy. He was as slippery as an eel and conniving enough to keep himself out of any serious trouble these days. But the people he worked for weren’t always as smart, and I had managed to take down some of his biggest “patrons,” seriously cutting into his ability to earn income by doing their dirty work.

“Get a job,” I told him. “A legitimate, legal job.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Not likely, now is it? Those days are good and over now. No one wants to hire the disgraced father of the town hero. Wouldn’t want to get on the detective’s bad side, now would they? That’s just asking for you to go poking around in their business.”

I shook my head. “You’re wrong. If you want legitimate work, I’ll help you find it. There are people who owe me favors. They could hook you up with something. You show up, work hard, actually live with a little integrity for once, and before you know it, you’ll have something you can put on a job application for something better.”

He just sneered. “I’m too good to start at the bottom, and I don’t want your favors.”

“No, you want my money. Well, that’s not happening. Russell, you want to change your life? I’ll help you. But no handouts.”

“You owe me,” he growled. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be sitting high on the hog. You can’t destroy a man’s livelihood and then force him to starve.”

“No one is forcing you to starve,” I said evenly. He wanted me to pity him, and I did—but for different reasons. I wasn’t going to give an inch. He wouldn’t get a dime from me, just an opportunity to change his life. “I’ve already told you, if you want work, I’ll get it for you.”

He spat on the ground. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance, boy. You’ll get what’s coming to you. One way or another. Maybe it’s time for me to speed up the downfall of the town hero.” His eyes glinted with the sick pleasure he took in torturing me.

His words sparked the same fear and nausea in me that they had as a kid. But I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I’d never let him see he could still affect me that way. I stood my ground, arms crossed, face stony until he slunk off into the shadows.

But that night, the nightmares of my childhood came calling once again. I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart racing, like I had so many times before.

Because like Russell knew, I’d never really be free.

The next morning, I felt rough when I headed into work. Seeing both Allison and Russell in one night seemed to have brought my childhood back in a way I’d thought I was past. The nightmares had never totally gone away, but they hadn’t been this bad in years. I hadn’t slept more than thirty minutes at a time all night.

Sheriff Morrison stopped at my desk on the way to his office.

“You okay, Jackson?” he asked, giving me a thoughtful look. “Are you coming down with the flu or something?”

“Uh. Maybe.” I nodded, deciding to go with it. “Yeah, maybe that’s it.”

“You look awful,” he commented, tapping on my desk. “Why don’t you go on home for the day?”

“I’d rather work, sir.”

“You’ve got to take some time off sometime, son. There’s only so many vacation days you can roll over each year before you start losing them. It’s been a quiet week. None of your cases are that pressing.” He peered at me again. “Why don’t you go see a doctor?”

At that, my ears perked up a little. “You know, you might be right,” I said, shrugging. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get a professional opinion.”

He nodded and tapped my desk again. “Exactly. Make an appointment before I call Fiona up here to doctor you herself.”

“You wouldn’t,” I said, chuckling. Fiona, our town herbalist and midwife, was a bit of a character. In her defense, her teas and tinctures worked remarkably well, and I’d asked for her help more than once when I was fighting off an illness. But there was nothing she could do for me today, and I had someone else in mind to see.

“I will if you don’t take some damn time off and take care of yourself,” he warned. “Now, go on.” He picked up the stack of papers on my desk. “I’ll handle or delegate anything urgent. Everything else will be waiting for you when you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Looking at Greg, I couldn’t help but be struck by the difference between him and Russell. Sheriff Greg Morrison was my boss, and I wouldn’t forget it. But the truth was that he was more of a dad to me than my own biological father was.

Greg had taken me under his wings, mentored me, given me a promotion to detective, and put me in charge of his new investigative unit. He and his wife had practically made me part of their family, inviting me to their gatherings any time my work schedule prevented me from going back to Nashville to be with my parents for the holidays. When I had to confess the truth of my identity, Greg had my back and supported me publicly, minimizing the fallout with the rest of the sheriff’s office. He was always looking out for me—unlike Russell, who seemed intent on making my life miserable.

Greg nodded. “Take care of yourself. There’ll be plenty of work when you’re feeling better.” He disappeared down the hallway to his office, carrying my work with him, whistling as he went.

I grabbed my phone and looked up the number for the clinic. “Hey, Bev?” I asked when the receptionist picked up. “It’s Jackson Ford. Listen, do you have any appointments available today?”