Making It Right (Most Likely To #3)

“Mmm, can’t do that. Not part of my DNA. He was killed?”


She nodded once. “The report said accidental shooting. My dad was a good cop, an even better hunter. He was never sloppy with his weapons. Any of them.”

Accidental shootings happened, but when it came to law enforcement, those accidents almost always happened when said officer was with another person.

“Was anyone with him when it happened?”

“No.”

“Where did this accident take place?”

“His hunting cabin. It appeared that he was cleaning his guns.”

“He shot himself with a hunting rifle?”

Jo wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “His service weapon. Point-blank, to his head.”

Gill winced. “Did your dad always carry his pistol with him when he went hunting?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t really pay attention. The last time I’d gone hunting with him I was probably fourteen. Then I discovered boys and wanted nothing to do with it.”

“You’re convinced he didn’t shoot himself.”

“I know he didn’t shoot himself. Guns were never toys in my home. Not even the plastic orange ones you filled with water. Guns were weapons, period! I was taught gun safety before I was potty-trained. He was always careful with his guns and way too smart to leave a bullet in the chamber while cleaning the damn things.” She spread her hands to the complex around them. “I thought some of this might help. Focus me again . . . I don’t know . . . something.”

Just talking about her father had focused her. Gill wondered if she knew how intensely her eyes displayed her emotions. She was convinced, utterly and completely, that she was right.

“I’ll help.”

Those piercing eyes found his. “You don’t have to.”

“And I didn’t have to follow you out here either.”

A corner of her mouth slid up. “I don’t know.”

“I’m good at what I do, Jo. And from what I’ve seen, you’re good at what you do, too. From what you said earlier, it looks like we’re going to lose a good cop if we don’t find some answers.”

“I never wanted to be a cop.”

“I gathered that. Doesn’t mean you’re not suited for the job.”

She hunched her shoulders, didn’t comment.

He gestured toward the building. “C’mon. You finish this today, and tonight I’ll take you to meet a friend of mine. He might help you focus.”

“Your friend’s an investigator?”

“Not really. You’ll understand when we get there.”

She looked over his shoulder, blew out a breath. “I need to call my deputy. Make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.” Her voice was filled with resolve.

“I’ll meet you at your hotel at six?”

Her smile was his answer.



Jo was becoming quite comfortable on the back of Gill’s Harley. There she could wrap her arms around him and forget nearly everything except the vibrations of the bike and the feel of the man.

She’d nearly lost it after the call from Glynis. All the reasons she wanted to find her father’s killer and search for a new life for herself rose up and slapped her in the face with that one call. Dogs. Dogs were the emergency in River Bend, and it took calling her deputy and heading him off before he could make a mess out of things to settle the nerves of her so-called dispatcher. When Jo contacted Cherie, the woman thought it was a social call. It took ten minutes to get through the gossip on her street before Jo managed to get a word in. Cherie agreed to keep the dogs inside at night so the neighbors couldn’t complain about their inability to sleep because of the barking. Jo also went on to say that her property wasn’t licensed for a kennel, and if the neighbors wanted to make a big deal about the amount of dogs, they could, and Jo would have no choice but to have the dog pound in Waterville step in.

Cherie was agreeable, but Jo knew it was only a matter of days before the complaints would start in again.

By then she’d be home, and hopefully be able to smooth things out.

Until then, she’d enjoy the feel of Gill on the bike and the freedom being away from River Bend was giving her.

Gill followed along the twisted back roads off the interstate until he slowed his pace and turned into a suburban driveway lined with trees. The modest one-story home looked to sit on a half-acre lot. The mature landscape consisted mostly of trees and hedges, with several rhododendrons in various shades of red.

Once Gill cut the engine, Jo climbed off the back, the pattern of removing the helmet and raking her fingers through her hair becoming more than a little comfortable.

Gill smiled at her as she handed him the helmet.

“The ride relaxed you,” he said.

“A little,” she admitted. Jo snuggled into her windbreaker and knew the ride back would probably be much cooler. “Who lives here?”

“An old friend.” He took her hand and led her up the walkway to the front door.

He knocked once before opening the door.

“Better be a good friend,” she murmured. Since Gill was letting himself in, Jo had to assume they were expected.

The smell of something savory filled the house and made Jo’s stomach rumble.

“Lee?” Gill called once they stepped inside the foyer.

“Back here.” The smoker’s voice sounded young, if not a little gruff.

Gill led her through the house like he knew the way until they emptied into a family room that connected to a kitchen.

In front of the stove was a tiny Hispanic woman in her late thirties. She placed a kitchen towel on the counter and walked around to greet them.

Jo’s eyes traveled to the man behind the gruff voice. He might be close to forty, but not much past. His upper body stretched the confines of his T-shirt, suggesting he spent time working that part of his body out. The rest of him sat in a wheelchair, which Jo forced her eyes away from the moment she realized she was staring.

Gill released her hand to embrace the woman and kissed her cheek before offering introductions. “Consuela, this is my friend, Jo.”

Consuela had long, dark hair that fell over her back like a drape. “Any friend of Gill’s is a friend of ours.”

Jo extended a hand and shook the woman’s. “Thank you for having me.”

“And this lucky bastard is Lee.” Gill did one of those slamming handshakes, followed by a bent-over man hug.

“You’re the only one with big enough balls to call me that,” Lee said, pushing Gill aside to move his chair closer to Jo. “Let’s get a look at her.”

Jo offered her hand to shake his and was met with the two-hand shake men did when they wanted to flirt. “Nice to meet you.”

Lee held on and looked her up and down. “You’re a bit tiny to be taking on this behemoth.”

“Excuse me?” Jo managed to get her hand back and look at Gill.

“Ignore him.”

“You can’t ignore me, I’m the elephant in the room. Hey, baby, how about some beer?”

Consuela stirred whatever was in the pot and turned toward the fridge. “You okay with beer, Jo? I have wine. Not good wine, but it was made with grapes.”