Waiting for Sunrise: Baytown Boys Series Page 5

  “Honey, I don’t think there was anything just neighborly about bringing you breakfast! I’d say that was a man who’s definitely interested.”

  Her eyes continued to watch out her front window near the table, wondering when Hunter would leave Ms. Sanders’ place. She hated to admit that she had set up her study materials on her table at the angle to give her the most advantageous place to observe across the street. Sighing, she replied, “He felt really bad about the accident and perhaps breakfast was just out of guilt. Anyway, as busy as my life is right now, it would be hard to think of him as anything more than just a kind neighbor.”

  Before Jillian had a chance to reply, Hunter walked out of Ms. Sanders’ front door, carrying what appeared to be a casserole dish. Biting her lip, she watched as he crossed the road toward her house. “Jillian, I hate to rush away, but I really need to get back to studying. Tell the others I’m fine, and I’ll talk to everyone tomorrow.” Disconnecting, she held her breath as he moved toward her house.

  Walking to the front door, she opened it before he even had a chance to knock. He looked up in surprise, seeing her standing in the doorway, her smile wide on her face.

  “I know you’re trying to study, but Ms. Sanders sent you some lunch.”

  Stepping back, she motioned for him to come in. “From the size of that container, I’d say she meant for both of us to share it.”

  “I didn’t want to assume anything—”

  “Please join me,” she begged. “I’ve done nothing but study all morning while you were helping Ms. Sanders and I’d love the interruption.”

  As they sat down at her small table, digging into the heated lasagna, he said, “When’s your class tonight?”

  “It starts at seven. It normally goes until ten, but we can leave as soon as we’re finished with the test.” She cocked her head to the side, wondering why he asked.

  Taking a sip of iced tea, he said, “I’ll pick you up about thirty minutes earlier to take you there.” He watched the confusion spread across her face and reminded, “Your car is still at the nursing home.”

  She blinked, before exclaiming, “Oh, no! I completely forgot!”

  “No worries. I’ll take you and then bring you home.”

  “Hunter, you can’t do that—”

  Staring at her wide eyes, he said, “Why the hell not?”

  “It’s too much to ask you to do that.” She sucked in her lips as she pushed her food around her plate with her fork.

  “Don’t recall you asking me. I volunteered. Got nothing else more important to do this evening, so I can drive you in the truck, read while you’re inside taking your test, and then I’ll drive you home. That way, you get there safe, back home safe, and I don’t have to be worried about you.”

  She lifted her gaze, staring at his sincere face, wanting to ask why he would worry about her. Too shy to ask and unable to think of a reason why he should not take her, she nodded. Her lips curved into a barely-there smile, as they finished their meal.

  Hunter pushed the seat of the old truck back as far as it would go, comfortably settled, reading his book. The sun had set, but with the light on inside the truck, he was still able to read. His eyes occasionally drifted to the door of the community college building, where Belle had entered two hours earlier.

  He wondered if it was a smart idea for him to become involved in her life, knowing the time might not be the best. If she knew everything about me, would she still be interested?

  Unable to come up with an answer to that question, he closed his book with a slam and leaned back against the headrest. Heaving a sigh, his head bolted forward as he heard a few voices in the distance. Belle and two other women were exiting the building and as he watched her wave goodbye to them and approach his truck, he breathed a sigh of relief at the huge smile on her face.

  He climbed down quickly and met her at the passenger door, opening it. The parking lot lights reflected brightly in her eyes.

  “Looks like it was a good night,” he said, offering his hand to assist her in, careful of her wrist brace.

  She twisted in her seat to look at him after he settled back into the driver’s seat, and exclaimed, “It was! The extra studying paid off… I’m sure I aced the final.”

  His smile met her exclamation and they drove home, conversation flowing easier between them than the previous evening when they left the ER. Arriving at her house, he escorted her inside, checking to make sure she was safe. Before he left, he turned and said, “Lock up behind me, Belle. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Parking the truck by his camper, he was looking forward to going to work the next day and getting back on his motorcycle. The idea of not having a vehicle to haul Belle around hit him, but it was soon followed by the image of her holding tight to his back, her breasts pressed against him, as they roared down the road on his motorcycle. Climbing from the truck, his dick twitched at the thought before sighing as he realized that girls like Belle probably would not be interested in a ride.

  Loud noises, a few houses down, caught his attention. He looked over and saw what appeared to be a party in full swing. Standing on the step to enter his camper, he trained his eyes to the neighbor’s yard before moving inside and locking his door. An hour later the noise had lowered and it appeared the group had moved inside. He observed a police vehicle roll down the road and wondered if a neighbor had called the cops.

  Lying in bed, he shifted around to find a comfortable position. Without thinking, his fingers dug into the scar tissue in his thigh, where the embedded metal had been removed. Just as sleep was about to claim him, he heard the sounds of the party breaking up. Might be time to approach the neighbor who liked to party, see if he had anything worthwhile to sell.

  Mitch sat in the conference room of the police station going over the agenda items in his briefing with his officers. Most of the topics were quickly reviewed and they were just winding down when Sheriff Colt Hudson stalked into the room. As the Sheriff of North Heron County, he often collaborated with the smaller Baytown Police Department. He was followed by Hannah Freeman, Easton town Police Chief, Liam Sullivan, the Accawmacke County Sheriff, Wyatt Newman, the Manteague town Police Chief, and Dylan Hunt, the Seaside town Police Chief. The gathering represented the heads of the law enforcement for the Eastern Shore of Virginia.

  “Glad you could make it.” As they settled into chairs, Mitch turned to his team, and explained, “I talked to Colt this morning and we discussed a new problem that has crept into the area.” Seeing he had everyone’s rapt attention, he amended, “To be fair, it’s a problem that has been around for a long time, but we’re just now seeing more and more of it.”

  Colt, wearing the khaki uniform of the Sheriff’s Department, settled his tall, muscular frame into one of the chairs around the table. With chin lifts directed at Officers Ginny, Grant, Lance, and Burt, he said, “I’ve been given a heads up from our State Police liaison, concerning the prescription drug problem in our area. I know that it seems like it might be easy for medical facilities to keep track of the prescription drugs that come in and then are prescribed out for patients, but a large number of drugs go missing every month, finding their way into the hands of those who’ll use them recreationally, or sell them.”

  “Do they have a lock on where they’re coming from?” Grant asked. As one of the original Baytown Boys, Grant and Mitch had been friends since childhood, both joining the Baytown police force after returning from the military.

  Shaking his head, Colt said, “Other than telling us that they’re cracking down on the problem, and trying to identify the perpetrators, they don’t have any specifics. I will say that my office arrested a nineteen-year-old last night. He was stopped for a traffic violation, but my deputy noticed his eyes were glazed and dilated. He was high as a kite when he brought him in.”

  “Anything on him?” Dylann asked.

  “Searched his car and came up with a small amount of Oxycodone. Not enough to charge him with intent to di
stribute, but at least got him on possession. We were hoping he’d lead us to his distributor, but he clammed up real quick. We’ll see. When he realizes his options, we might get something out of him.”

  Hannah added, “I’ve got a medical officer watching him as he sits in our jail. As of this morning, he was still coming down from what he was on.”

  Ginny, intently observing Mitch, asked, “Chief, you look like you’ve got something on your mind. Something specific?”

  He sighed as he nodded, and replied, “We’ve got certain pockets in our town and in the County of North Heron that we know have problems. One of them is the back section of the mobile home park. The land that the property sits on is mostly in the town of Baytown, but the back section is over the town and county line, situated in North Heron County. I’ve spoken with the owner and he’s as frustrated as we are.”

  Lance, the newest member on the police force, cocked his head to the side, and said, “Sorry, Chief. Maybe it’s because I’m new to this area, but I don’t understand the problem.”

  “Baytown has certain ordinances and policies regarding home properties, and that includes the mobile home park. Maintenance, curb appeal, lawn care, garbage disposal, and vehicles, all come under Baytown’s ordinances. The County of North Heron does not have the same policies.”

  Burt leaned back in his chair and added, “In many places, cities and towns have more regulations than counties do, as far as housing, due to more rural farms areas.”

  “For example,” Colt explained, “it’s very common in rural counties for a house to have a non-running vehicle sitting in the driveway. But, in Baytown, all vehicles on the homeowner’s property must be in running condition.”

  “So, in the case of the mobile home park, the large section that is in the town of Baytown has more regulations and is easier to maintain, while the section on the North Heron side is more of our problem area,” Grant confirmed.

  Mitch nodded, and said, “It’s got nothing to do with the people who live there. Mobile home parks have often had negative connotations, but it’s a great community— a playground for the kids, hardworking families that are able to afford the housing there. But, because it is also a lower rent area, it can attract people who want to prey on those less fortunate.”

  “What Mitch and I discussed this morning was a combined effort to keep a closer eye on the back section. There are a few owners and renters there that we suspect are some of our dealers,” Colt added. “But, what we really want, are the people that are higher up so we can determine where they’re getting their prescription drugs from.”

  Liam, looking at Colt, asked, “Did the State Police give you an idea of what they’re doing about the problem?”

  Shaking his head, he answered, “All I know, is that they’re following leads from pharmaceutical companies and pharmaceutical deliveries. As to which medical facilities in our area they think might be involved, they did not say.”

  “We’ve got doctor offices, pharmacies, home health services, nursing homes…hell, the rural health center has drugs on the property, with deliveries every day,” Mitch said.

  “Not to mention pharmaceutical delivery companies and salesmen,” Ginny threw out.

  The others shook their heads at the wide scope they faced in attempting a crackdown in a large area with a small police and deputy force.

  “So, that’s it for our meeting today. You’ve got your patrol schedules, but you’ll notice that we have added increased visibility in the back of the mobile home park.” As the Baytown officers filed out of the room, leaving Mitch, Colt, Wyatt, Dylan, and Hannah alone, he asked Colt, “You got nothing else to go on?”

  Colt shook his head. “Nothing specific, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Don’t know what, just something in my gut isn’t sitting right.”

  The others nodded silently as Mitch sighed heavily.

  6

  Hunter looked around at the eclectic gathering in the basement of the building holding the American Legion meeting. From what he had gathered, they had held the new officer elections a few months ago and Grant was now the commander.

  He had never been to an AL meeting and was uncertain of the procedures. Grant stood on the platform at the front and rapped the gavel on the podium. The new Sergeant at Arms, Ginny, closed the doors in the back before walking with her husband, Brogan, the Color Bearer. He carried the flagpole in his hand, the American flag billowing before he set it in the floor stand.

  Hunter bowed his head as the chaplain offered the prayer, but as soon as it was over he looked around in curiosity. The crowd, mostly men but sprinkled with women, ranged in age from early twenties to well into their nineties. Many had lapel pins, stuck in their shirts or jackets, with the various military insignias from which branch they served under. Strangely self-conscious that he had few articles with US Navy on them, other than a pair of old sweatpants and a couple of T-shirts, he thought he would ask Zac where he might purchase a pin.

  Before considering that further, Grant called for the POW/MIA Empty Chair Ceremony. Intrigued, he watched as a chair was designated as a symbol of the thousands of American POW/MIAs still unaccounted for from all wars and conflicts involving the United States of America. The POW/MIA flag was placed on the Empty Chair. He noticed all faces turned toward the chair and he did the same. He had only known a few servicemen who had died and was ashamed to admit, he had not thought about them in a while.

  Brogan talked for a moment about the baseball teams and coaching positions that were needed for the American Legion youth program.

  Zac nudged him in the arm, and whispered, “I gotta get you out there with the kids. You’d be great.”

  After the financial report was given, Zac, as the Post Service Officer, approached the podium and spoke about the Eastern Shore Mental Health Group, and the services they provided specifically for veterans. His attention was captured when Zac talked about one of the new medical groups on the Eastern Shore that included physical therapy.

  “The Pain Management Center has two doctors that specialize in veterans’ injuries, and they wanted me to make sure our group knew that they not only treat pain with certain drugs, but more importantly with ongoing physical therapy.”

  His fingers moved to his thigh, once more slightly massaging the injured area, his mind riveted on the Medical Center Zac had just described.

  When the meeting came to a close, he found himself in the middle of a large group heading down Main Street toward Finn’s Pub. The original owner, Finn McFarlane, had given the pub to his three grandchildren, Aiden, Brogan, and Katelyn. A town fixture, the pub was the gathering place after every American Legion and AL Auxiliary meeting.

  Walking through the bright red door, he remembered meeting Zac and Jason here on his first night in town. Zac and Madelyn had just been married that day, and all their loved ones were gathered to celebrate. It made for a bit of an awkward introduction, but everyone welcomed him with open arms. Still, he only stayed a few minutes before heading out, not wanting to crash the party.

  A long bar lined the right wall, the old, wood surface highly polished. Mismatched barstools sat in a row next to the bar. A large mirror, flanked by shelves filled with alcohol bottles of every shape and size, lined the wall behind the bar. Brogan had explained that the original building housed a bank, and the old vault now functioned as a seating area. Toward the back were larger tables and booths, where their friends were waiting.

  As he moved along with the crowd of friends, he observed Katelyn and another server bringing out platters of wings. As soon as her brothers and her husband, Gareth, saw her, they rushed to take the platters from her hands. His gaze dropped to her protruding stomach and he understood the action—the men did not want her to carry anything heavy.

  He cast his eyes about the room, seeing many of the couples cozying up to each other. Not seeing Belle, he missed her presence, but assumed she was home nursing her injury.

  “Here’s the crab dip, everyone.
”

  Jerking around, he recognized Belle’s voice, and his eyes narrowed when he observed her, in another cute, floral, sundress walking from the back, a large tray in her hands. Seeing it balanced awkwardly on her injured wrist, he stalked over, plucking it from her hands.

  Bending, so that his voice would only be for her, he asked, “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be taking it easy on your hand.”

  Belle blinked as she watched Hunter twist his upper body to place the platter on the table behind him. Before she could speak, he turned back and placed his hands on her shoulders, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  “What is your problem?” she hissed in a whisper, leaning forward and up on her toes. “I was perfectly fine and only helping Katelyn.”

  “She’s pregnant and you’re injured. I don’t know what either of you were thinking,” he replied, his voice just as soft but still filled with irritation.

  Placing her hands on her hips, she said, “That’s a patronizing attitude. She’s pregnant, not infirm, and I went back to work today, as you well know. Other than needing to be careful, my wrist is fine.”

  Clearly done with the conversation, Belle whirled and walked away, going to the far end of the bar where a dart game had ensued. Scrubbing his hand over his face before dragging it through his hair, Hunter sighed heavily.

  “That could have gone better,” Zac said, coming up beside him.

  He scowled at his friend, but swung his eyes back to the front of the bar, keeping them on the swish of her skirt. He observed Jason and Callan smiling at her before they resumed throwing darts at the board on the wall. “She doesn’t lack for attention,” he said, hating the peevish tone of his comment.

  “Belle’s great. She’s kind of like everyone’s little sister,” Zac said.