Making It Right (Most Likely To #3)

Gill’s image swam in her head.

She pushed him away. He’d kept her up most of the night by not staying; she didn’t want him plaguing her morning run. Some of the day’s lesson plan was about investigations, one of the things she wanted to soak in most. Jo thought of what she already knew. Most of what she’d been taught was on how to draw confessions out of a suspect. Interviewing skills with known criminals and not so known criminals . . . stuff that she didn’t have a lot of experience with since River Bend was a rather crime-free zone. It was the art of observing, and seeing what others didn’t, that she needed to use. That’s what she told herself as she rounded on mile three.

Most murders are performed by someone the victim knows.

She thought of her father and his case. There was no one, not one red flag. Even the town misfits and drunks stayed sober for his funeral.

There are no coincidences.

Whenever something felt too easy, or just “fell into place,” it was time to cry foul.

Like the accidental part of her father’s death.

Too easy. Jo didn’t buy it.

Jo turned the corner back to her hotel with her muscles and mind loose and ready for the day.

She jogged up the two flights of stairs and pulled her plastic key from her exercise bra as she walked down the hall.

When she looked up, she hesitated. And then she smiled. “What are you doing here?”

Gill lifted his hands, one held a bag, the other something that smelled suspiciously like coffee. “I’ve yet to meet a cop who didn’t like coffee and donuts.”

Her stomach grumbled, and her heart thumped an extra beat . . . almost like it was telling her to notice something.

She swiped the key and opened the door. Then she hesitated in the doorway.

“Since you took my money last night, I guess it’s the least you could do.”

He smiled and followed her inside.

What is he doing here? Turned me down last night just to jump in this morning?

She sipped the coffee before looking inside the bag.

Heaven . . . donuts were sugary gifts from above. She bit into a chocolate glazed and leaned against the dresser.

“Running and donuts?” Gill asked.

“I run to clear my head,” she told him, taking another bite.

He smelled fresh, unlike her, and his clothes were professional but not stuffy. All the material on his body hid the ink underneath. It felt like a secret, one she knew but others didn’t. The thought made her smile.

He took the bag from her and grabbed one of the remaining pastries inside. “That,” he waved a maple bar in her direction, “is a wicked smile.”

Jo stopped chewing, moved close enough to smell his aftershave. She leaned forward, took a bite out of the donut he was about to put in his mouth, and turned to walk into the bathroom.

She stopped at the door.

There are no coincidences.

Zoe’s question bounced in her head.

“What were you doing at Marly’s the night we met?”

“Drinking, hanging out?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You go there a lot?”

“When I’m in DC, why?”

“What about Shauna, she go there with you?”

He shook his head. “Too seedy for her. I’ve dragged her there a few times, but it’s not her style.”

“Hmmm.” Jo popped the rest of her donut in her mouth and turned her back on Gill.

She wasn’t going to tell him to leave, wasn’t going to ask him to stay.

Jo turned on the water in the shower, peeled off her clothes, and stepped inside.

The small space instantly started to steam.

Gill’s massive frame shadowed the doorway through the mirror.

Jo forced herself not to look as she squeezed shampoo into her palm before scrubbing her hair.

“You’re killing me, JoAnne.”

She smiled the way a woman did when she knew she’d grabbed a man’s attention. Besides, he couldn’t see her smile, he could only guess.

“You’re the one who showed up uninvited. I have somewhere to be in half an hour.”

“You didn’t like my donuts?”

“Oh, I like your donuts all right,” she said to herself. She moved on to scrub the sweat from her body, wondered if there was any silhouette through the hotel shower curtain. “They were okay,” she said a little louder.

She heard him laugh, saw a shadow pass by.

She finished her shower and pulled a towel into the steam to quick dry her hair and covered herself before stepping out.

Noise from the bedroom sounded a whole lot like someone tripping over a bed.

Jo forced herself not to look. “You okay in there?”

“Yep, um-hmm. I’m good. I’ll a . . . I’ll see if I can step up my pastry game next time.”

She left her towel in place and took that moment to step to the open doorway.

Gill was in the process of pulling the hem of his right pant leg over his sock.

“You plan on bringing me breakfast every day I’m here?”

The heat of his eyes, as they took in her frame, shot right to her belly.

“I can be persuaded.”

“I tried that last night.”

His smile fell.

“Besides, my best friend is a celebrity chef. You can’t beat what she delivers.”

“This friend of yours a woman?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then I can beat her.” Gill made his exit, called over his shoulder. “See you there.”



They were on a tactical training course, something she would see one more time before leaving the facility on Friday. The students were working their way through several different real-life scenarios, from hostage situations to mass casualty gun violence.

Jo watched from the sides as several students were placed into what she called an arena, where the instructors were beside them, guiding every move.

Even watching managed to pump adrenaline like she’d remembered in her initial officer training.

“Sheriff Ward?” One of the instructors tapped her shoulder.

“Yes?”

“You have a phone call.”

She stood, reached for her back pocket, and realized she’d left her phone in her locker.

Jo followed the instructor out of the arena perimeter and into a building. There, she picked up the phone and pushed the line where her call was waiting.

“This is Sheriff Ward.”

“Jo, oh, thank God I got ahold of you. You weren’t answering your cell.”

The excitable voice of Glynis had images of her sitting behind the reception desk at the station with piles of papers stacked all around her.

“I don’t have my phone with me in the field, Glynis. What’s going on?”

“Deputy Emery is going to make a mess out of this dog situation. The man doesn’t like animals. Remember how he all but bullied the Swanson boy who lived next door to get his dog to stop barking when the other dogs in the neighborhood let loose after midnight?”

“Glynis.”

The woman kept talking as fast as humanly possible. “I swear when that little beagle went missing—”

“Glynis!” Jo shouted this time.

“No need to yell, Jo. I hear you.”

Jo squeezed her eyes shut. “Start at the beginning. What dog situation are you talking about?”