Shelter for Sharla Page 3

  Carter sat there for a few seconds, thinking about the tattoo, but then his thoughts shifted to the woman he’d just spoken with. He had no reason to think she had anything to do with any of the goings-on, but he hoped when he gave her the information he’d received, she’d make sure Chelsea and Lionel cooperated.

  It was almost five before he headed back to the Trigg County Sheriff’s Department’s office. “Anything going on that I should know about?” Carter asked his chief deputy, Gray Lewis, through the cracked office door as he changed into street clothes.

  “Nope. Arrested Ben Taylor again.”

  “Another DUI?”

  “Yep. Ten thirty in the morning at that. They guy just can’t seem to help himself,” Gray said with a grin.

  But Carter was in no mood for witty banter as he zipped his jeans and buckled his belt. “No. He can’t. Anything else?”

  “Judge Michaels threw out four of our ten traffic citations.”

  Strolling out into the main office, Carter looked from the stack of papers on the front desk and back to Gray with one jacked-up one eyebrow. “And why was that?”

  “Said the ticket wasn’t filled out properly.”

  “Don’t tell me―Edwards.”

  “Yep.”

  The sheriff shook his head. That young deputy wasn’t going to make it if he didn’t get his shit together. “I’ll have a talk with him. Anything else?”

  There was a glint of mischief in Gray’s eyes. “Yeah. Penny came by here again today looking for you.”

  “Well, fuck me,” Carter mumbled under his breath.

  That set Gray laughing. “She wants to!”

  “Well, she can want in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up fastest. She’s barking up the wrong tree here,” Carter announced to no one in particular.

  “Oh, come on, Carter! She’s a good-looking woman.”

  “Yeah, and I’m up for reelection next year. Want to fuck that up?”

  Gray shook his head. “Nope. I like working for you.”

  “Good. Then discourage her every chance you get.” God, it had been a long day and he was tired. He sure didn’t need the local Methodist minister’s ex-wife sniffing around. Before he could say another word, his phone rang. “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Carter! Are you busy?”

  Am I busy? I’m always busy, he wanted to say, but instead he simply said, “No. What’s up?”

  “My car won’t start. Could you come over and take a look at it?”

  “Sure. Be there in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, son.”

  “You’re welcome, Mom. See you in a few.” As soon as he punched END on the screen, he turned to Gray. “I’ve got to go. Tell the guys I’ll check on them before I go to bed.”

  “Will do, sheriff. Have a pleasant evening,” Gray answered.

  “Yeah, yeah. Right. Pleasant evening,” Carter was muttering as he stepped out the door. Would it never end?

  Two hours. It took two hours for him to figure out what was wrong with his mother’s car. “I can’t fix this, Mom. You’ll have to call a tow truck and let the mechanic fix it,” he informed her as he stepped into the house.

  “Rocky’s?”

  “Yeah. I trust him.”

  “Okay. Want something to eat?” Her tone was almost apologetic, and he hoped he hadn’t made her feel bad for calling him. That wasn’t his intention at all.

  “No, thanks. I’m gonna go. Got some paperwork to do.” Liar. You’re gonna go have a drink, he told himself.

  “Okay. Well, thanks again, son. I love you,” Wilda Fern told him and patted his cheek.

  He leaned down and kissed hers. “I love you too, Mom. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Night.” When he slipped behind the Crown Victoria’s steering wheel, he could still see her standing there in the doorway, watching him leave. He knew she was lonely. He was lonely too.

  Just as he pulled out of her driveway, something occurred to him. There was a bar he’d been wanting to explore in Hopkinsville, The Fat Rabbit. He’d heard they had a great jalapeno and Monterey Jack burger, and what better place to ask about a tattoo than a bar? Rolling toward I-24, he pulled onto the interstate and let the big car cruise along. He was pretty sure a burger and a beer wouldn’t erase the horrible day he’d had.

  But it certainly couldn’t hurt.

  Chapter 2

  It only took about twenty-five minutes to get there, and he smiled when he took in the bar’s façade. The ancient brick building had huge plate glass windows, and through them he could see old-fashioned tavern-style lighting, its amber bulbs casting a golden glow even on the sidewalk. The evening was warm, and the front door stood open, allowing voices to spill out into the air on the street.

  There was no sign inside the doorway asking patrons to wait to be seated, so he strolled to the bar and took a stool. The bartender turned and smiled. “Hey there! What’ll it be?”

  “Whaddya have on tap?” After listening to the recitation of domestics and imports, Carter settled on a Stella Artois. “I hear you have a great burger or two,” he said before the barkeep could walk away.

  “Sure do. I think our jalapeno and Monterey Jack is the best.”

  “I’ve heard that too. Could I have one with pub chips?”

  “Coming right up,” the younger man said with a smile as he walked away. In seconds, a frosty mug of amber-colored liquid appeared in front of Carter and he took a long, deep draw from it. God, that was exactly what he needed!

  As he sat, he turned slightly to look around. It was the usual kind of crowd in a bar like that―“like that” being decidedly not hip. The old school vibe was alive and well within its aging walls. There were a few couples, some with other couples and others who looked like they were having a simple date night. Against the far wall sat a table with a checker board on it, and two guys bent over it playing, one about his age and one much younger. Father and son maybe? When he turned the other way to check out that end of the building, he almost choked.

  Sharla Barker was sitting at the other end of the bar. And she was alone.

  Awww, hell. This is not how I’d pictured this evening going, he told himself. Which would be worse? Going down there and speaking to her? Or waiting to see if she recognized him and came his direction? Carter rolled his eyes and sighed. Might as well get it over with. He stepped up quietly, beer in his hand, and asked, “Mind if I sit?”

  She spun to face him and her eyes went wide. “Sheriff! No, please. Have a seat. What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been wanting to check this place out. I hear the food’s good.”

  “It is. I come here every Thursday night. It’s ladies’ night and it’s the only time I can afford to take myself out to eat,” she answered, her cheeks pinking. Carter thought that was unbelievably cute―and a bit sad too.

  “You won’t have to worry about that tonight. It’s on me,” he said and took another sip of his beer. Holy fuck, this is a bad idea, he thought, chastising himself. Oh, well, it’s done now.

  The woman’s face reddened. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I insist. You’ve had a shitty week. It’s the least I can do.”

  He thought he saw a tear in the corner of her eye before she said, “Well, thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So you said you had some news about Tamara?”

  Well, shit, here goes the evening, he groused internally. “Actually, yeah, I do. Her cause of death was a gunshot wound.” Should I? he wondered. What the hell. “From my weapon.”

  She was silent for a few seconds, then said, “Well, thank you for being honest.”

  “Feel like I have to be. Even though there were several wounds, that was the deciding one. But we’re trying to unravel a bit of a puzzle.” Deciding not to hesitate, he whipped out the picture of the tattoo. “Ever seen this before?”

  Sharla took it in her hands and held it up to the light. �
��Not that I recall. What is it?”

  “That’s the tattoo.”

  She shook her head, still staring at it. “No. I’ve never seen anything like it. What is that design?”

  “We don’t know, but I have to believe it has some meaning. No idea at all?” The woman shook her head. Should I tell her about the drugs? In that moment, he decided not to. He’d tell all three of them the next evening when he went to talk to the kids. Until then, he’d keep that to himself. “And you’re Lionel’s aunt?”

  She nodded, her face sad. “Yes. My sister’s kids. Their dad was killed in a robbery gone wrong, and my sister died of cancer four years ago. It’s been left up to me to take care of them.”

  “And Chelsea’s your only daughter?”

  That got another nod. “Yes. Her father and I divorced when she was eight. We haven’t seen him since.” He had to admit, the woman had it rough. Three kids, two of whom weren’t even hers, and she was going it alone. His hat was definitely off to her.

  Throw her a scrap, Melton. The woman needs encouragement. “Chelsea seems like a good kid.”

  “She is. Honor roll student, dean’s list, works almost full time.”

  “Wow. That’s something. So does she live on campus?”

  He watched as Sharla’s hands slid up and down her beer bottle, and he wondered what they’d feel like gripping something of his that would be just as hard but a lot warmer. “Yeah. The three of them lived in family housing. That’s supposed to be reserved for families with children, but their advisors all got together and found a way for it to happen since they really couldn’t afford dorm fees. They’re all going to school on student loans. I can barely make ends meet as it is. I can’t pay for college for one kid, much less three. Ridiculously expensive.”

  “It was ridiculous when I was in college. I can’t imagine what it costs now.”

  “You went to college?” Carter nodded. “What was your major? Oh, wait. Let me guess. Criminal justice.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sure was. Master’s degree.”

  “And how long have you been sheriff?”

  “Going on fourteen years now,” Carter answered, then realized how pathetic that sounded. Sheriff of a tiny county in western Kentucky. It was certainly no claim to fame.

  “Wow! That’s quite a career! I’m assuming you worked for them as a deputy before you became sheriff.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Deputy, then detective, then ran for sheriff and won. And I’ve won the last three elections, so I guess they like me well enough.” He took a draw of his beer and thought about how many sleepless nights he’d spent on the job.

  “You’re very professional. I think I’d be comfortable with you as sheriff if I lived in your county.” The woman smiled as she said it, and Carter almost blushed. Kindness like that wasn’t something he ran into every day. Most days he spent his time with people who’d rather kill him than look at him.

  “Thank you. That’s a really nice thing to say.”

  “You’re a nice man.” She turned back to her beer bottle and Carter couldn’t help but notice the slope of her cheeks. He’d seen prettier women, but she was … striking. That was the term he’d use. Almost regal.

  Small talk wasn’t his thing, so it took him a minute to fish around for something to say. “So where do you work?”

  “The hospital.”

  “Methodist or County?”

  “County. I’m a respiratory therapist. I work mostly with postoperative patients. You know, trying to get the anesthesia out of their lungs and get their breathing back to normal.”

  “Sounds like an interesting job.” Actually, it didn’t, but he didn’t know what else to say.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I wanted to go into radiology. I find all the equipment and technology fascinating. But that just wasn’t in the cards. The courses were full, and they were begging for respiratory people, so I just signed on and here I am.”

  “Here you go, ma’am,” the bartender said as he appeared with Ms. Barker’s food. “Do you need some ranch dressing for dipping?”

  “Yes, please,” she answered, then turned to Carter. “They have the absolute best chicken tenders on the planet. I love them. What did you order?”

  “One of those burgers. Oh, here it comes.” The bartender stepped up and placed the plate in front of Carter. “That looks delicious.”

  “Thank you, sir! Need ketchup to go with those fries?”

  “Yes, please.” He watched as discreetly as possible as Ms. Barker dipped one of the chicken tenders and chewed slowly, almost meditatively, and he wondered if that was her way of enjoying the one meal she bought for herself every week. The bartender returned with his ketchup and the two of them ate in silence.

  He was halfway through his burger before she spoke. “So what’s going to happen to Chelsea and Lionel?”

  “Nothing, as far as I know, although we sure would like to have their help.”

  “Oh, you’ll get that.” Dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, she smiled. “They’ll cooperate or I’ll have their hide. I’m just glad my sister’s not around for me to have to tell her how I screwed up with her kids.”

  “You didn’t screw up. Your niece was twenty-two. An adult. You couldn’t control that.”

  Her eyes were sad, a thing that tore at his heart, knowing how hard she worked and the difficulties she had to be facing. “If I’d spent more time with them, maybe she―”

  “That’s nonsense. They were college kids. They don’t want to spend time with parents, or aunts, or anybody who’s an adult or represents authority of any kind. You know that.”

  “I guess, but still―”

  “Stop beating yourself up. You’ve done a good job with Chelsea, and Lionel seems like a good kid.

  Ms. Barker let out a deep sigh. “It’s just so hard.” As soon as the phrase slipped from her tongue, Carter had an overwhelming urge to take her hand and just hold it. She needed consolation. Validation. Encouragement. Peace. And an idea struck him.

  “Finish your food and let’s go take a walk, whaddya say? It’s a pretty night.” A smile split her face and Carter felt like some kind of genius. He’d made her smile! Considering what was going on with her, that was huge.

  “You know, that sounds nice. You’re on!” she said and tucked into her food. There was a cheerfulness to her voice that hadn’t been there before, and his heart fluttered for a few seconds. Why did making her feel better make him feel better?

  Fifteen minutes and one brief half-hearted argument later, Carter paid the entire tab and turned to smile at her. “Ready for that walk?”

  “Sure!” He watched her stroll toward the door and noticed the beautiful slope of her ass, its perfect heart shape swaying gently, and something below his belt clenched. God, that was a fine ass! Stop it, Melton! he chided himself, but there was no denying it. She was a good-looking woman, not to mention intelligent and conscientious, all qualities he valued highly. Nothing she’d said seemed dishonest either, and that was at the top of his list. “Want to walk over toward the courthouse? The fountain is pretty in the evenings,” she asked, and there was a gentleness in her voice that he hadn’t heard earlier.

  “Sounds great.” Carter shoved both hands into his pockets and wandered along beside her. From time to time she’d point at something and tell him about it, this building or that cornerstone, or a particular tree or sign. It was obvious she’d lived there all her life and she was proud of her hometown. They were almost to the courthouse when he said, “Last time I was here, I was delivering a prisoner to Western State.”

  To his surprise, he saw her shudder before she said, “Yeah. We have a family history with that hospital.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. My grandmother died there.”

  “A patient?”

  “No. A nurse. Killed by a patient. Schizophrenic. Have you ever been inside? I mean, really inside?” she asked, her pace slowing.

  “Not really.”

  �
�Well, then, you just can’t know. I had to do a two-week practicum there. Oh my god, it was terrifying. Chilling. I swore then that I’d never go back, and I haven’t. You couldn’t pay me enough to work there.”

  “I’m so sorry about your grandmother,” Carter said, and he meant it. Being killed by someone you were trying to help sucked, and he should know. He’d lost too many brothers in blue because of that sort of thing, the most recent being Trooper Palmer.

  “Thanks, but that was long before I was born. My mother was just a little girl when that happened.” They rounded the corner and the courthouse came into view. “Now isn’t that pretty?” she asked as she pointed to it, and they watched as the automatic lights snapped on in the growing dusk.

  “It is.” A tiny voice whispered in his head, Take her hand, but he knew that wouldn’t fly. When they reached the fountain, he motioned and she sat down on the edge of the pool. As soon as he was seated, he turned to her, trying to find the words he wanted to say. “I have to tell you, I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have paid for your dinner, and I shouldn’t be sitting here with you now.”

  Her eyes closed slowly and she nodded, an air of defeat seeming to drag her shoulders downward. “I know. But I’m glad you did―you’re doing―all those things. It’s nice to have company, especially company as nice as you.

  “The pleasure’s been all mine,” he assured her, and when she flattened her palms on the top of the wall to brace herself, he let one of his fall on top of one of hers. “This has been the best evening I’ve spent in a long, long time.”

  “Me too.” Her cheeks pinked, and all of a sudden, Carter felt very bold.

  “So, if I asked you out, would you go?”

  Her head snapped up and her lips pursed, but there was a curiosity in her eyes that took him by surprise. “I dunno. Are you interested in asking me out?”

  Go for broke, Melton, he told himself. “Actually, yeah. I am.” Before she had a chance to say anything more, he added, “Are you the least bit attracted to me?”

  “Wuhhhh, yeah. Absolutely. You’re a very good-looking guy. But I bet you hear that all the time.”