Josh's Challenge Read online

  He wished Melissa was there to share the afternoon with him.

  “How’s your lunch, sweet pea?” Lauren clumsily sat her rounded self on the blanket next to Jessica, kissing the top of her head on the way down.

  “Really good, Mommy.”

  Josh shared a look with Lauren. When it came to food, Jessica was the least picky kid he’d ever met. Neglect will do that to a child.

  After thanking the many volunteers, Jason and Julie finally made it back to the blanket. “Did you two eat?” Lauren asked.

  “We did,” Julie said as she picked up a now-fussy Michael. Gabriel was awake now and starting to make some noise, too. Jason reached in to pick up his son. “And now it’s time to feed these rascals.” Julie kissed the baby in her arms before sitting him on her crossed legs and beginning to adjust her shirt.

  Josh scrambled to his feet while Lauren threw her head back and howled. “Chicken bock bock,” she called after him.

  He didn’t care. That was the last thing he wanted to see. He wandered around the crowd, shaking hands with people he knew, thanking them for their help. His parents were ensconced with an older group of people they’d known all their lives. Timbisha was a small but rich community of caring and loving people. How so much trouble had happened here in the past year was beyond him.

  “Wanna toss the football around?”

  Charlie was studiously looking at Josh and away from the blanket where his sister was breastfeeding their nephews. Now it just seemed funny. He let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, sure, kid. Bring it on.”

  Josh spent the rest of the afternoon playing yard games with Charlie and Marco, and occasionally Jessica, who thought she could keep up with the boys. Soon people began to disperse, but they still had a bit of work to do. Jason and Julie wanted to stay in their new home that night. It would’ve been one of the happiest days of his life except Melissa wasn’t there to spend it with him. The melancholy that thought brought on surprised him and he hated it. Sooner or later, he’d get Melissa to admit her feelings for him so that they could begin the rest of their lives together.

  “DID YOU TELL him that you loved him back or did you leave him hanging?”

  Missy moved her cell phone to the other shoulder and stared out the window in the breakroom. She hadn’t confessed her feelings for Josh because she was a big sissy-lala.

  When she remained silent, Marguerite sighed into the phone. “Oh, Missy. Men need to hear how we feel just as much as we women need to hear it from them.” Her sympathetic advice was almost too much to bear.

  “I was a little caught up in the moment,” she admitted weakly. “You know, words failed me.” Like they always do.

  “I bet you were,” Marguerite gently teased. “Have you talked to him since you left this morning?” she asked with concern now.

  “No, he was helping the family with Jason’s move into the new house today, and I’ve been slammed here. Actually, I need to get back to work. The schedule is packed and these animals aren’t going to cure themselves.”

  “I know you care about him, Missy. Please don’t be afraid to tell him. He won’t laugh at you, I promise. I know his reputation doesn’t help, but Josh is one of the good ones.” The empathy in Marguerite’s voice made Missy’s lip quiver, but she viciously held back her tears.

  “I’ll try, Marguerite. Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime, baby sister. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said quietly before ending the call.

  She’d been able to escape to the breakroom briefly when there was a no-show in the schedule. Her mind had been racing since she’d left Josh this morning. When it came to men, Missy counted on her sister’s advice, and she’d badly needed to talk to another woman about what had transpired. She hadn’t told her sister every detail, but, as always, Marguerite knew what she was feeling. It was a sister thing, something that Missy counted herself lucky to have, even if Marguerite was a diva. Speaking of divas, she’d have to tread carefully where Angelica was concerned. She didn’t seem to care much for Josh, and Missy didn’t want to hear Angie claiming that last night was a mistake.

  She entered the waiting room and picked up the next chart. As she was looking it over, two more patients entered the crowded space, excitedly discussing local traffic in Timbisha.

  “I wonder where they were headed with all that fanfare?”

  “No clue, but something sure is up. The last time Sheriff King had that many emergency vehicles on the road, they’d found that body burned up in Shady Court Motel. Remember that?”

  “How could I forget it? I’m just glad Sheriff King got that drug business cleared out of Timbisha before anyone else got hurt.”

  That was the problem with small towns—everyone knew everything about everybody. She wondered how many tongues would wag when the news spread about her sleeping with Josh and what they would say about her loose morals. The thought was depressing…and scary. People would begin to ask her questions about her relationship with the town bachelor and quietly pass their judgments.

  As the day wore on, she caught bits and pieces about the brouhaha. Mostly just speculation on whether there’d been a terrible traffic accident on I-80 or another murder victim had been found. The consensus was about fifty-fifty either way, and since Timbisha had no local news programming, everyone would have to wait for the morning paper to be delivered the next day.

  Missy hadn’t heard from Josh all day, and now she began to worry about him. Had he been in an accident? A large portion of the townspeople who were usually able to volunteer had been helping with Jason and Julie’s move today. Surely if something horrible had happened to Josh, everyone would know it by now. The Timbisha phone tree was more accurate than Reuters and the Associated Press combined, but still she worried.

  At six in the evening, she looked at her watch and realized that the day had flown by. The charts were all gone and there were no more patients waiting to be seen. Though she’d been worried about him, she didn’t text either because she didn’t want to interrupt him when he was with his family. Wasn’t there some sort of unwritten rule that you shouldn’t text a person the day after you’d slept with him? She really wanted to know if he was all right, though.

  Her hands shook as she stared at the blank screen on her cell phone. Josh’s name was at the top, and her last message from him was still there. Should she ask if he was home? Would that seem suffocating, like the little woman checking up on him? The anxiety gathered in the pit of her stomach, and she cursed her ignorance of social norms and the inability to communicate confidently with people she’d just slept with. As she debated for the hundredth time, her phone pinged in her hand. It was Josh.

  Are you home yet?

  Relief made her fumble her phone before she could tap out her reply: Not yet but leaving the clinic now. Where are you?

  Just leaving Jason’s. You and Ginger meet me at my place? I’m hungry. ;)

  An emoticon? Now she laughed. I’ll see you soon. In her rush of gathering her things, she almost closed the door on the cat, which generated a disgruntled hiss from Ginger. The sun was nowhere near the horizon when she ran to the parking lot; it was still blazing hot in the sky. Her little CRV was like an oven. Luckily, she could roll the windows down with her key fob so most of the hot air cleared out before she put Ginger in the front seat. By the time she’d squealed out onto the main road, the air conditioner was blowing cool air around them, and both girls were happy to be going home.

  “THAT’S MY SUSPECT,” Declan declared. “Looks like Schurke’s been dead a while.”

  Declan and Jarod stood in the abandoned motel, a structure like so many other ruins dotting the Nevada desert, remnants of failed businesses long ago left to rot after the mines had run dry. Like the decayed building, Harold Schurke/Klein had once been a virile man. Now he was just another murder victim emaciated and lifeless, tied to an old bedstead in the forgotten motel. The slatted headboard was still sturdy, but the rest of the frame l
ooked as old as the structure that hid it. Surely Harold could’ve broken free if he’d tried?

  “Yes it does,” Jarod murmured as he picked up an empty vial from the littered floor. “Ketamine.”

  “That would explain why ol’ Harold here couldn’t break out of this crumbling bed. His killer kept him weak.” Declan surveyed the room with a critical eye. He was no crime scene investigator, but it didn’t take a genius to note the scant amount of fast food wrappers and water bottles and understand that the killer had barely kept his prey alive.

  “The medical examiner will determine time of death, but it looks to me like this body has been here a while, weeks maybe.” Jarod’s brow was furrowed, but Declan agreed with the sheriff’s assessment.

  “Then who’s been stalking Ms. Theroux?”

  “My thoughts exactly, Marshal.” Jarod placed the empty vial in an evidence bag and headed back outside.

  The stench of decomposition was strong, and Declan needed to get some air as well. He followed Jarod back out into the heat where he could breathe easier.

  The death left more questions than answers. Taking Schurke back into custody had been his assignment. Finding him dead should’ve meant Declan was done here in Timbisha, but the sheriff still needed help, and Declan owed it to Dane to find his niece’s stalker. A copycat maybe? Who had kidnapped Schurke, then left him tied to a bed to die in an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere? It was all connected, Declan was sure. He and Jarod just needed to find the missing piece to the puzzle.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the ever-efficient elder Ms. Theroux’s voice buzzing over the sheriff’s mic.

  “The medical examiner is on the way, Jarod. Any ID on the vic?”

  A look passed between Jarod and Declan before the sheriff answered. “The body is too decomposed, so we’ll need dental records to confirm. Marshal McKinley will have to wait for our people to process the body before he can leave Timbisha.”

  Declan puzzled at the comment, noting a twinkle in Jarod’s blue eyes. What was his game? There was a pause before Marguerite replied, “Did I ask how long he’d be in town?”

  Jarod chuckled. “She’s so easy to rile up.” He slammed the trunk after placing the evidence bags inside and turned to Declan. “It wasn’t long ago that woman made my skin crawl, you know that?”

  “Uh, no.” And I don’t really care, but…“Are you sleeping with her now?” The thought pissed Declan off and he didn’t like the feeling. It was nothing to Declan with whom Jarod cheated on his wife.

  Jarod leaned his head back and howled with laughter. “Hell no! I love my wife, dickhead.”

  Declan raised his eyebrows at the insult but didn’t take exception. Jarod didn’t seem to notice and plowed on about his secretary.

  “I’m just saying that Marguerite isn’t what she appears to be. I didn’t think anyone could fill Lauren’s shoes at the station, but I was wrong. Don’t tell my wife this, but Marguerite is damn near irreplaceable. Her problem is that she’s got low self-esteem.”

  Declan snorted. “You’re joking, right? That vixen has more self-esteem in her little finger than any other woman I’ve met.”

  Jarod tilted his head. “Huh. I pegged you to be a better judge of character than that, although Marguerite does put on an Oscar-winning performance to hide her feelings. I can see where she’d trip you up. Anyway, I didn’t believe it until I realized that she’d been working undercover for her uncle on a case last year. When everything was resolved, I kept her on because she knew the job better than Lauren. My biggest fear is losing her to the field.”

  Declan rolled his eyes. Blondie in the field? That busybody would alert every criminal in her wake that she was undercover.

  Jarod chuckled. “I know you don’t believe me, but I also know you have the hots for her.” Straightening up from his relaxed position against the cruiser, Jarod leaned into Declan’s space. “It’s no skin off my nose if you want to get to know her better, but know this: I consider her a part of the family because she helped save my wife and daughter from a madman. Not to mention that my brother has his sights set on her little sister, so if you hurt her, you and I will have a problem. Understand?”

  Declan smiled. “Loud and clear, Sheriff.” He’d seen nothing but polite tolerance between the sheriff and his secretary, but now the man was championing her? Declan’s curiosity was piqued, and now that he had reason to stay in Timbisha, he would determine what Marguerite Theroux was like for himself.

  He’d already done a little digging on her. Why he’d run the background check was beyond him, but what he found left him with more questions than answers. She was twenty-six and had earned a degree in criminal justice and business administration. Upon moving back home, she immediately went to work for the sheriff’s department. The mysterious part was there was nothing else on her, but he attributed that to her uncle. Even though Dane Bainbridge was retired, he was still well connected in the bureau. Declan had decided not to investigate her further until Jarod mentioned her work undercover. If she’d played a role in that undercover operation, why had she gone back to work for Timbisha County instead of pursuing a career in the field?

  Declan sighed. He didn’t have time to ponder the life choices of Marguerite Theroux. His target was dead, and now he had to find a killer before anyone else got hurt. One thing was for sure though: Marguerite was dangerous to his concentration. He needed to stay the hell away from her.

  There are a lot of cars here.” Missy was proud that her voice didn’t quake at the thought of so many people in attendance. She reminded herself that she wouldn’t be doing any public speaking, just making idle chitchat with strangers. Nope, didn’t help. She started to sweat.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Josh whispered right before he pressed a kiss to her temple. He’d been doing that a lot lately, kissing her whenever he felt like it, holding her hand, and whispering things into her ear that made her blush—and not from anxiety.

  The man was shameless.

  “Take a deep breath, Missy. You’ve got this,” Marguerite said from the backseat.

  “I know.” Missy waited, wondering why her sister wasn’t getting out of the car. Josh sat patiently, not saying a word.

  Finally, Marguerite asked, “Is that Declan’s truck?” Was that a tinge of apprehension she heard in her sister’s voice?

  Josh murmured, “This should be fun,” before he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. Missy followed suit, only to be helped out by Josh. When Marguerite still hadn’t moved, Josh opened her door and said jauntily, “Come on, Magpie! The party’s inside!”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  Missy rolled her eyes. Poking fun at her sister wasn’t going to make anybody happy, but the ornery dimple showing in Josh’s cheek said that he really didn’t care.

  He was just so bad.

  Jason and Julie’s new house wasn’t what Missy had expected. She’d envisioned a mini version of the King estate, but this home was two stories with a wraparound covered porch in the Arts and Crafts style. Light, earthy greens blended with stone and wood. The front yard was shaded by an old cottonwood tree, and new sod had been laid inside a two-rung, split-rail fence. A friendly gate opened to a walking path leading to the front porch steps, where a sign invited this Saturday’s guests to Just Come Right In, and so they did.

  Cozy furniture was set out at different points around the porch, and the swing was adorned with pillows. Recessed lights and wood fans dotted the ceiling about every eight feet or so. Craftsman-style lights in stenciled metal and colored glass hung on the walls bordering the door, reminding Missy of the one and only trip her family had taken to Disneyland. Josh reached for the heavy oak front door. It opened to an oversized, square foyer that led in three directions; to the right was a vast living room with a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, and to the left was a large formal dining room. Straight ahead lay two more paths, one to the back of the house and the other up a grand staircase leading to the second
story.

  People crowded into every room. Missy tried to breathe, but she felt the telltale signs of a panic attack slithering up her spine like a serpent waiting to snatch her ability to speak. Please don’t introduce me to anyone, please don’t introduce me to anyone, please, please, please!

  Marguerite took her hand. “Breathe,” her sister whispered. “You’ve known most of these people all your life.”

  Josh put his arm around her and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going to leave you alone for a second.” He kissed her forehead to seal the promise.

  She knew she was being silly. She wasn’t afraid of these people. She was afraid of embarrassing herself by saying something stupid. It had been like this nearly all her life, from her first day of elementary school, when she’d asked Mrs. Wilson why Mr. Wilson didn’t sit with her at church anymore, to that day of her gaffe at the clinic when she’d commented about putting a cat to sleep and made its owner cry.

  Just as Missy was considering making a run for it, Camille entered the foyer to greet them. Missy noted the surprise in the older woman’s eyes. That’s when Missy realized that Josh still had his arm around her. Camille’s smile widened into something knowing, which embarrassed Missy even more, and she prayed she wouldn’t say something idiotic to Josh’s mother.

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” Camille said smoothly, but not unkindly, before briefly hugging Missy and Marguerite. “You’re just in time. The twins are awake, and Julie’s bringing them downstairs now.”

  “Hello, Mother. Good to see you too,” Josh grumped. Camille stopped in her tracks, turned around, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She whispered something in his hear that Missy couldn’t hear. Mother and son chuckled conspiratorially before Josh dragged Missy to the back of the house. Camille and Marguerite veered off to the dining room, where her sister seemed to fit right in with everyone. Missy tried not to be envious of Marguerite’s social skills.