The Runaway Daughter

She should tell Angie what was going on. But Claire would never trust her again if she did.

“What’s up?” Angie’s voice was friendly but firm, which was a pretty good description of the woman herself.

For a cop, Angie got along great with the kids at the center—she and Uncle Tony, both. They’d become a great team, spending most of their off-duty afternoons coordinating cool activities. They didn’t talk down to anyone, either. They treated teens like grown-ups. Like friends.

No matter who you were, you were okay with them, no questions asked. And one smart-mouthed kid after another in the county had started to trust them. Except Claire, who didn’t trust anybody but Maggie.

“Nothing’s up.” Her stomach tightened at the lie.

“I know you two are friends.” Angie looked at Maggie, as honest and straight-shooting as ever, even in her everyday khakis and a knit golf shirt. Today’s shirt was the same cool green color as her eyes. “But Claire’s been hanging with a pretty rough crowd lately. If she’s in some kind of trouble—”

“Claire’s fine.” Maggie held her breath against the urge to blurt out what she knew about Sam Walker. She ducked her head. “I…I’ve got to get home and help my uncle Tony with my parents’ going-away thing. I…I’ll see you later.”

She made a quick escape, leaving Angie no chance for more questions. As she jogged toward the side door her friend had most likely left through, she thought of that night’s family dinner and couldn’t help but smile.

Her parents were leaving for New York in the morning, to scout places for the three of them to live in the fall. Maggie was staying behind this trip, finishing summer school and the two classes she needed to graduate. She’d missed tons of school last year. The liver-donor surgery that had saved her mom’s life had taken months to recover from.

Two more classes and her future was ahead of her. The kind of future Claire would never have if she kept hooking up with losers like Sam.

Outside, there was no sign of Claire or the boys they’d been hiding from. Boys, including Garret Henderson, who hung with Sam Walker almost every afternoon—doing what, Maggie could only guess.

What if telling Angie tonight was the right thing? What if it was the only way to keep Sam from hurting Claire and the rest of the kids in town more than he already had?

Maggie shook off the what-ifs and headed home. She wanted to go after her friend. She wanted to go back and spill her guts to Angie. She wanted to fill her parents in on everything, and help shut Sam Walker and his drugs down for good. But she couldn’t do any of it, not tonight.

She’d talk some sense into Claire in the morning. After her parents left for the airport, she’d head over and confront Sam himself if she had to.

Whatever it took to get her friend out of that apartment.

ANGIE WATCHED Maggie hightail it through the side door of the youth center as if the girl’s low-rise jeans were on fire. Seeing her running scared was a shock.

Maggie was a Rivers through and through. Brown hair, intelligent brown eyes and a heart of gold. And a Rivers didn’t run. From anything. In fact, they’d fight to the death—particularly to protect the people they cared about. And Maggie and Claire Morton had been as thick as thieves from the moment they’d met six months ago, when Maggie had tagged along during one of her uncle’s volunteer nights at the center.

It had been an odd match, the sheriff’s kid and a runaway who’d zeroed in on the toughest badass in town, gotten herself knocked up, and then moved herself and the baby in with Sam Walker for good measure. But Maggie had seen something in Claire worth saving, and that had been the end of her parents trying to talk her out of hanging with the girl every afternoon.

Something was up. Angie could smell it. But was she sure enough to make a stink about it, when her ability to work with the kids around here hinged on not interfering in their life choices unless it was an emergency?

The teens at the center were practically her surrogate children. She’d accepted the reality years ago that she couldn’t have kids of her own. She’d dealt with the devastating impact that news had had on her dreams, and her never-to-be marriage to Freddie. Then she’d gone out and found a way to fill her life with kids regardless. Over the last few years, her volunteer work at the center and her career had become her salvation.

The teens here needed her, and she needed them. Her goal, the goal of all the volunteers who gave their time here, many of them sheriff’s deputies like herself, was to keep the often at-risk kids coming back. Kids from broken or dual-income homes, where parental control was either scarce or nonexistent. Rural families that often didn’t or couldn’t provide the kind of supervision restless teenagers needed. She was a big sister here, a confidante who listened and helped any way she could, while doing everyday things like playing a friendly game of Ping-Pong or basketball.

Angie gritted her teeth against the memory of her last game of hoops with Travis Reynolds. She’d let Travis down by not getting rid of the crap someone had sold him. And now Claire Morton was acting nervous. And big-city-smart Maggie Rivers looked more worried than Angie had ever seen her. It didn’t take a decade in law enforcement to guess what the problem was.

Baby Max’s father was bad news. There were rumors Sam Walker was into Oakwood’s crystal meth trade up to his eyeballs. The department had no proof. Yet. But he’d been working his way to the top of their suspects list ever since their first meth collar eight months ago. And the chance that Maggie had gotten herself involved in the drugs overtaking their county like cancer landed a knot dead center in Angie’s stomach.

She couldn’t let this slide.

Maggie’s parents were leaving in the morning, and they’d been planning tonight’s family dinner all week. With as little information as Angie had, she wasn’t stirring up trouble their last evening in town. But once tomorrow’s shift was over, Maggie Rivers had some questions to answer. Which would leave Angie talking to Tony if there was any truth to her suspicions.

Damn.

The man was the last person she should be spending her off-duty time talking to. She couldn’t get it out of her head, the confused, almost disappointed look on his face when she’d pulled away from him at the Eight Ball.

Tony wore unattached like some kind of shield— exactly why she’d felt so safe spending time with him, talking about things she never talked about with anyone. And she’d listened to his stuff, too. The way a good friend does—hanging out, and listening and trying to understand.

Not to mention the creepy fact that once, like a million years ago in high school, she’d actually had a crush on the man’s older brother.

They were friends. That was all. Just good friends.

Then Tony had pulled her into that kiss, and— “There you are, Chief.” The mayor’s booming voice from the other end of the hall yanked her away from her memories.

The board meeting.

Before stepping into the restroom, she’d been headed for the center’s trustees meeting. She’d already been running late for their discussion about how the town’s civic leaders could help deter the rising drug problem. A quick check of her watch confirmed that she’d now missed the entire meeting.

But instead of being angry, the mayor walked her way with a cheerful gait, his ever-present press gaggle in tow. He never missed an opportunity to corner her into face time with the local reporters. They were her mouthpiece to the community, he insisted. A powerful weapon in her bid for election, not to mention his determination to preserve his winning image now that he was publicly supporting her.

He shook her hand. His politician’s smile played for their audience.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it tonight.” He turned slightly so the cameras caught his good side.

And she almost hadn’t, even though it was one of her regular afternoons to volunteer. The mayor’s blatant promotion of her candidacy chafed many of the deputies the wrong way, including her. His recent interest in the department didn’t extend to talking the council into hiring more officers, or upgrading their facilities and equipment to help them better protect the county’s citizens. All flash and no substance, Henderson was as supportive as it took to help himself and his own upcoming bid for reelection.

But she’d agreed to attend the board meeting, and this time she’d even agreed to the press. She’d do whatever it took to better educate people about the drug problem brewing in their backyards: local leaders, parents and anyone else who’d listen. The town had to band together to find a solution.

“Mr. Mayor.” She smiled blandly into the glare of flashbulbs. “I’m willing to do anything for the kids, you know that.”

“I’ve just come from meeting with the center’s board of trustees, as you know,” he said, more for the reporters than her. He nodded as Oliver Wilmington joined them. The old man walked painfully slowly these days, leaning heavily on the cane he’d relied on since recovering from last year’s stroke. “And they’re very impressed with your department’s efforts in drug prevention, as well as your personal plans for the future, should you be elected sheriff. You know the chairman of the center’s board, don’t you?”

“Mr. Wilmington.” She shook hands with Maggie Rivers’s great-grandfather. Another flurry of flashbulbs temporarily blinded her. “The department is always happy to have the support of our local leaders.”

“Actually,” the elderly gentleman said, “I’m not entirely convinced either you or your department is up for this task. Not after that unfortunate boy’s death this morning.”

Angie nodded thoughtfully. Inside she cringed. Old Man Wilmington had never hidden his skepticism of her ability to make a good sheriff. Now everyone in town would be reading about it in tomorrow’s paper.

“I—” she started.

“The chief’s the man for the job.” Mayor Henderson’s hearty pat on the back, his forced enthusiasm in front of the two reporters hastily recording every word being said, grated almost as much as his insistence in repeating her title over and over again. As if anyone in town could forget that the only woman on the force was in charge of the nine men serving with her. “Putting this scum threatening Oakwood’s teens and citizens behind bars is the cornerstone of Officer Carter’s platform.”

“Is that how you see it, Chief?” Cal Grossman, the Oakwood Star’s combination roving reporter and editorial chief, chimed in. His weekly spotlights on the ups and downs of her unopposed sheriff’s race had become a local must-read. “That your run for the top spot hinges on stopping the increase in drug-related crime in the area?”

“Not to mention the gangs,” Oliver Wilmington added. “What are you going to do about the gangs running amok through this historic town? Shootings, overdoses, graffiti scarring some of our most beloved buildings. It’s appalling how little control the sheriff’s department seems to have over any of it.”

Angie looked from one man to another, feeling oddly like a reality-TV contestant who’d been set up to fail, meanwhile everyone was glued to his seat watching her squirm. Well, they’d have to look somewhere else for their entertainment today.

“Our department is totally committed, as I am, to handling all of these problems, gentlemen.” She gave Wilmington a firm smile. “But my bid for sheriff couldn’t be further from the point here. Our current sheriff and each of the deputies on this county’s payroll have the same goal—protecting our citizens. Most importantly, our children.”

“Like my son, Garret, here.” The mayor all but dragged the eighteen-year-old from the fringes of the impromptu press conference. “Our focus has to stay on keeping these kids safe and out of trouble. And that’s right up Chief Carter’s alley. Why, she volunteers no fewer than ten hours each week to mentor the teens who come to this center. Personal time she could be spending any ol’ way she wants. And she chooses to be here, working with kids who need the kind of guidance she—”