Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(26)

“But you’re taking the comp, the disability.”

“Damn straight,” Mike said with a nod. “I paid into it for fifteen years and it wasn’t the first time a weapon was fired my way. I’m just a working guy. But you know, I’m so damn lucky—the head works, the brain seems okay. I’d like you to know something—if I’d had a chance to talk my way out of that shooting, I might have tried, but it wasn’t like that.” He nodded toward the paperwork. “There’s a report available, if you want it. I was kind of… I was ambushed. That’s all. It was a jump into a gang, and picking off the sergeant was a coup. So… That’s it. I thought I’d come up here and—”

“You could get a good job with a résumé like this. There are lots of places—private industry, corrections, small departments…”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, chuckling. “That’s nice, I appreciate it. Go ahead and call some folks for references. There are lots of names on that résumé there—and you can get all the numbers of people not on the résumé. If I can help out in Virgin River, great. If it’s a problem—I got a lot of fish to catch.”

“How much can there be to do in Virgin River?” Andersen asked.

“Hopefully, not a lot,” Mike answered. He nodded toward the pictures on the credenza. “Beautiful family,” he said. “Good-looking dog,” he added.

“She’s yours,” the chief said. Then he smiled. “The dog.”

It was Mike’s turn to smile. “You wouldn’t give away that dog,” he returned.

“Nah, but I might trade her for enough dirt to fill the holes in the yard. Try me.”

Mike laughed and stuck out his hand, which Andersen shook. “Thanks, Chief. Enjoyed it.” He gave a nod, the chief gave a nod and Mike left.

To be met with some suspicion and reluctance was not unexpected, but it didn’t make the experience very inviting. Mike was damn glad he wasn’t looking for work. He had to fight himself to keep from being a little insulted; he was a decorated police officer from a big…no, huge department. But he reminded himself this was their turf. He was an interloper.

Despite the fact it was intimidating and difficult, he visited the Eureka department, the sheriff’s department, Garberville police, Grace Valley, a few other small towns that had local police, sometimes just one or two cops. The initial reaction was always the same. Yeah, you’re this big-shot guy? What’re you doing up here, poking around? Why not go after a real job?

A few days later Chief Chuck Andersen called him. “I thought you might want to spend a little time over here,” he said. “Do a ride along, look at a couple of things. See how it’s different in a small city. Maybe give us a perspective…”

“That would be good, sir. I’d like that,” Mike said.

“I called a couple of people at LAPD,” Andersen said. “You have a pretty good reputation there.”

He had an excellent reputation there. “Thanks,” he said. “I was better at some things than others. I did okay in police work.”

“Seems like,” Andersen said. “Good to have you helping out. Do a ride along with one of our guys. And Valenzuela? Bring a pillow.”

Mike laughed. “Thanks, sir.”

The sheriff called, then the Eureka chief. Tom Toopeek, the chief from Grace Valley, weighed in, but there were towns that never got back to him. No matter, the consensus was that he would be welcomed as a constable. By state regulation he was not an official law enforcement officer, but more or less one of the team as far as most of the local guys were concerned. He’d be happy to help out anyone who asked, but what mattered was that he could go to them if there was a problem in his town. And he’d be happy to have a purpose again.

He signed the contract. The first person he told about it was Brie.

Tom Booth met a girl in physics who he thought might fill the bill. Brenda. Gorgeous Brenda. Soft, shiny, light brown hair that curled under on her shoulders, blue eyes, drop-dead figure, long legs, a smile that could put him in a trance. She was more beautiful than any girl he’d seen in D.C., which was some kind of miracle—the D.C. girls were pretty awesome. Fortunately, she seemed almost as shy around guys as he was around girls, which could work to his advantage. He struck up a conversation with her in class and learned that she was only a junior, in accelerated math and science programs, and he thought, hot shit. Pretty, smart, nice. Yup, this was a winner.

They talked about her plans for college, his horses. He asked her if she’d like to go out sometime and she said maybe. “Not right now. I’m kind of just getting over a really bad flu. Had me flat on my back right as school was starting and I’m still on medication, so my mom is a little overprotective.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “Maybe we could do homework together sometime, when you start feeling better.” Then he smiled his most engaging smile and said, “If you don’t mind me saying so, you sure don’t look sick.”

“I’m feeling lots better than I did, believe me.”

“So—maybe I could call you sometime? You feeling well enough for that?”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “That would be okay.”

“What do you like to do? When you’re not—you know—feeling bad?”