Dylan’s Redemption(24)

“If you hear anything you think I should know, my door’s always open.”

He held back a laugh as she beamed and avowed, “Looks like you’ll make a fine sheriff for the county, much better than Sheriff Leland ever was. A lazier man, I’ve never met.”

Which explained why Buddy got away with everything that happened to Jessie. If the law didn’t care, who did?

Alone, finally, he set to work on discovering some of the answers to his many questions about Jessie.





Chapter Eight



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JESSIE PARKED BEHIND her brother’s truck and cast a glance at the other twenty or so vehicles parked along the road next to the cemetery. Maybe more than one funeral was planned for today. Her gaze scanned across the expanse of lawn and headstones to where she’d picked out the plot. Everyone stood around her father’s grave site waiting for the funeral to begin. She wondered how all these people found out about the proceedings. Who knew Buddy had so many friends?

Unprepared to see all these people, she hesitated but bolstered her resolve and moved forward. Just like she always did. About thirty men and women watched and waited. It didn’t look as though any of them were particularly sad over Buddy’s death. Too busy studying Brian, several of them spotted her and literally gaped.

Some of the faces she remembered: Charlie and Buddy, his longtime fishing cronies; and Toby, his old partner in the construction business. Buddy had been more a hindrance to business than help, but Toby put up with Buddy for years.

Dylan stood beside her brother and sister-in-law. Seeing him, her feelings jumbled into a fiery ball in her gut. He wasn’t dressed in his uniform, or what he used as his uniform. He didn’t go in for the whole getup. At Brian’s, he’d worn black jeans instead of his uniform pants. He hadn’t gone with the sheriff’s hat either. Like today, he’d had on that dangerous-looking black Stetson.

Gone were the jeans in deference to the funeral. In their place, he wore black slacks and a white dress shirt opened at the collar. She loved the way he looked, especially his broad shoulders and strong arms. The dress shirt couldn’t hide either feature. He stood with his legs apart, hands in his front pockets as he spoke with Brian, his clothes and stance, both casual and elegant.

Dylan had always demanded and expected respect. He’d always gotten it, because he earned it. She doubted he had to work to make a living. He came from money, had a large trust fund and inheritance from his mother’s side of the family, and probably worked because he liked it. Just one of the things she admired about him, he didn’t use his wealth to separate himself from people who had less.

Everyone loved him. Easy to love, he had a great sense of humor and treated everyone like a friend. She’d fallen for him. From puppy love, to girlhood crush, to all-out love, she’d given herself to him through every stage of her young life. From the time she fell on the playground, skinning her knees, when a pack of boys chased her under the guise of playing tag but were really tormenting her. Dylan pulled her up and brushed her off, glared at the boys, and told them to leave her alone. To the night of the prom when she’d given him her body, her heart, and her soul.

It hurt just looking at him.

His eyes tracked her progress from the moment she got out of the car. Ignoring him, she walked toward the grave site. To her surprise, Pop and Greg came to lend their support. Not that she needed it. Nice to have some friends among the many people who only came to see her miraculous return.

She never expected all these people to turn out, but if they stuck around long enough they’d get an eyeful of just what Jessie Thompson thought of her old man.

Dylan didn’t miss Jessie’s arrival. Who could miss a beautiful woman getting out of a Porsche? She wore black jeans and boots with a white blouse that softly flowed down her body and clung to the curve of her breasts and waist. She carried a black tote bag. He wondered what she’d brought along. She wore her hair down today and the mass of wavy brown hair danced behind her in the wind.

She didn’t even look at him, but walked straight over to two men who recently arrived. He didn’t know them, but they sure knew Jessie. They smiled as she approached, and she returned their smile. He wished she’d smile at him that way. Alarms went off in his mind.

Could that guy be her boyfriend, or worse, her husband?

She’d legally changed her name at eighteen. Why? To hide her identity from her father and anyone else curious enough to look for her. Or did she marry that man? If so, why didn’t they show up here together? No. Not a husband, but someone close.

She walked into the older man’s arms. Maybe she was seeing the younger one, but at least she hadn’t gone straight to him. Irrational, but it made him feel better. Dylan couldn’t hear the exchange and wished he could walk over, put his arm around her, pull her to his side, and tell them and everyone else Jessie belonged to him. He wished she did.