Chapter Text
Laura was tired, dirty, sore, and worst of all, she had failed.
She couldn’t get her and Max to Hackett Quarry. The spot the cop had been gesturing toward on the map wasn’t as easy to find as she’d anticipated. She and Max had been driving in circles for hours and now they were snapping at each other like starving wolves.
"We should have just gone to the Harbinger Motel in the first place," Max grumbled, turning into the motel’s parking lot. "Not that I’m thrilled we have to waste fifty bucks on a room."
"You were the one who got us lost in the first place," Laura shot back. The darkened, shabby motel didn’t look the least bit welcoming. What burned the most was having to do what that bossy cop told her to do. How was it any of his business when they arrived at camp? It’s not like hunters were going to be shooting deer or whatever inside the camp lodge.
"And you’re the one who didn’t check that it was okay for us to arrive a day early!" Max slammed out of the car, opened the trunk, and grabbed their bags.
Laura stifled a groan and followed him out of the lot and up toward the front door. A police car was idling by the roadside, and Laura recognized the stern face of the cop who’d rescued them from the mud.
She’d wondered if someone had been following while they drove around trying to find camp. It had been the cop the whole time.
"Unbelievable." She gave the cop a sarcastic little smile and wave. He glared at her before driving away, red taillights disappeared up the road. "Weirdo."
She and Max woke the owner of the motel, a gruff man who seemed annoyed to take what little cash they had, and fifteen minutes later they were getting into a lumpy bed in a damp room, with décor that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the sixties. The sheets may not have been washed since then, either.
Laura had just got comfortable in the narrow double bed when Max rolled over, taking the blankets with them.
She yanked them back. "Hey!"
"Hey, yourself," Max said through his teeth, covering himself once more.
"Goodnight," she muttered, but didn’t get a goodnight from him in response.
Ugh. If tonight was any indicator, it was going to be a long summer. And not in a good way.
Laura fell into a fitful sleep. She had the impression that Max was getting in and out of bed throughout the night, and several times she reached out for him, only to find that he wasn’t there.
Or did she only dream he wasn’t there?
At half-past seven Laura was drinking coffee in the motel lobby, rubbing her gritty eyes. As soon as someone appeared behind the front desk, she took their map over and asked them to mark where Hackett Quarry was.
When she turned around, Max was bringing their bags downstairs.
"Where were you last night?" she asked him.
Max blinked at her. Was it her imagination, or did he seem nervous? "Nowhere. Where were you?"
"What do you mean where was I? In bed. Did you go out of the room last night?"
"No," he replied, but far too quickly to seem honest.
Laura touched his arm. This wasn’t like Max. "Is something wrong? Like, more than getting lost last night? It seems like you’ve got something on your mind."
Max hesitated like he was about to say something.
"C’mon, you can tell me anything."
His mouth snapped closed and he shook his head. "I’m fine. Let’s just get to camp, okay?"
Laura followed him to the car, irritation burning through her. She hated when people around her kept secrets.
Who could be unhappy when the sun was shining, the lake was glistening and sparkling, and kids were laughing and running around? Laura found their happiness infectious and threw herself into her duties at camp.
That afternoon she was standing by the lake enjoying the view when a cop car pull up in front of the lodge. A tall, rangy man in a dark blue uniform got out, swaggering in that cop way they always did in the movies, surveying the building like it was the sussest thing he’d ever seen. He disappeared inside without noticing Laura.
A few minutes later he emerged and noticed her standing there. To her surprise, he made his way over to her.
"Well hello, Officer Friendly," she called in greeting. His expression was so serious that she had to tease him. "Still checking up on me? I’m gonna start thinking you’re obsessed with me." She clicked her tongue and winked at him, putting her hands on her hips.
He surveyed her with a severe glance, taking in her short shorts and cropped tee. "Do you ever not have your belly button on show, young lady?" His tone was scathing, but his gaze snagged on her midriff in a way that told her he didn’t find it annoying in the slightest.
Young lady. Laura supposed it was better than ma’am.
She glanced down at her bare midriff and then back up at him with a shrug. "What? It’s a cute belly button. What are you doing here, Detective Fuzz?"
The cop shot her a peeved glare. "It’s Sheriff Hackett."
"Oh, are you and Mr. Hackett brothers or something? Northkill sure is cosy. Does your family run everything around here?"
"My family is none of your business." He glanced around at the lake, the kids, the position of the sun in the sky. For man who was so brusque he sure wasn’t in a hurry all of a sudden. "I’m glad you got to the motel last night. Eventually."
She rolled her eyes. "We weren’t driving around out there for our own amusement."
"Sure felt like you were amusing yourself as you led me round and around in circles."
"Hey, we didn’t ask for an escort. And give me a break, I was hardly having fun covered in mud with a bump on my head."
Sheriff Hackett glanced at her forehead, before reaching out and gently knocking the brim of her baseball cap up with his knuckles.
"That looks like it hurts." A sympathetic expression flashed through his eyes.
Laura gazed up at him in surprise. Was he a hard-ass, or a secret softie? Last night he’d been throwing his weight around, ordering them to do this and that. Then when he saw she had dirt on her face he’d brushed it away with a handkerchief. An actual handkerchief like men carried in old novels.
The cop had brown eyes, she noticed. Warm and kind of puppyish. She liked that in a man.
Uh, okay Laura. You must be tired if you’re simping over the old dude.
"It’s no picnic, Officer Sunshine."
He tapped his gold star badge. "It’s Sheriff Hackett, thank you. What’s your name, young lady?"
Damn, the way he said young lady made her want to do something bratty.
"Laura. Laura Kearney. Don’t worry, I haven’t got amnesia." She rubbed her bump and pulled her cap back into place.
"Is your boyfriend okay?"
Did she detect an annoyed inflection? Is your boyfriend okay?
‘Max? He’s fine. Acting kind of weird. But fine.’ Laura half shrugged.
She expected the sheriff to ignore her comment or berate her for boring him with her relationship drama.
Instead, he snapped to attention. "Weird how?"
She gave him a baffled look. "Uhhhh, I don’t know."
Restless. Secretive. Grumpy.
"Did he leave the motel room last night?"
Now Laura was getting pissed. "That’s not really any of your business."
Sheriff Hackett pressed his lips together. "Just answer the question."
She folded her arms. "No. I don’t think I will, Officer Pissy."
"Sheriff Hackett," he corrected her through his teeth.
They passed a short, angry silence, glaring at each other.
He pulled a card out the back of his pants and held it out to her. "If he starts acting strangely at any time—if he scares you—"
Her folded arms loosened in shock. "Are you implying that my boyfriend is going to hurt me? Screw you."
"If anything scares you," the sheriff corrected himself, "call me." He thrust the card under her nose. "Take it. Do as you’re told for once."
"Well, now I’m really not doing it."
She moved away from him, and as she did, he suddenly stepped closer and shoved the card into the pocket of her shorts. She gasped as his fingers thrust into the denim at her hip.
"Excuse you! Rude."
He glared at her, his face four inches from hers and his fingers still deep in her pocket.
"Pray that you never need my help, Miss Kearney," he said in a low and threating voice. The brown eyes held not a trace of puppy now.
"Why would I need your help?"
"Just pray. Bad girls get into trouble around here." He yanked his fingers from her shorts, turned on his heel and marched back to his car.
Laura’s heart was pounding wildly and she stared at his broad back. ‘Wow! What an asshole. I can’t believe…’ She trailed off, shaking her head and smoothing her hair down.
A moment later she pulled the card out and read it. Sheriff Travis Hackett. The address of the police station. A mobile number and a landline.
"Honestly, what is his problem?" she muttered, shoving the card back in her pocket and heading toward her cabin.
This was summer camp. What’s the Sheriff got to be so melodramatic about? It’s not like anything bad was going to happen to them at summer camp.
I just love their banter. Snarking at each other is foreplay, am I right? Thank you for reading! Leave me a comment and let me know what you think.