"The dojo?"

Reese grinned. "Well, right now its my garage."

"Ill see that she understands thats part of the arrangement."

"Fair enough."

**********

Once home, Reese changed into sweats and a tee shirt and went in search of Sarah James, the crew boss of the women she had hired to finish the renovations on her house. The previous owner had left many things uncompleted, or in some cases, had done the work improperly.

"Hows it going," she asked the small blond when she finally located her in the basement.

Sarah grimaced. "Save me from do-it-yourselfers! The plumbing to the master bath is a nightmare. No shut off valves anywhere you could use them, of course. And dont get me started on the wiring!"

Reese smiled at Sarahs exuberant display of distress, then asked seriously, "Can you fix it?

"Oh, sure. I might need a week more than I originally thought though. Is that okay?"

"Fine - just tell me where youll be working and Ill try to stay out of your way. If you need me to, I could move out for a while?"

Sarah shook her head. "Not necessary, but there will be some additional costs. Im sorry - I underestimated the state of things here. No one's lived here for quite a while, and there was some water damage and other -"

Reese interrupted her. "Dont worry about it. Just do whatever needs to be done. If you need another advance for materials, just let me know."

Sarah looked at the other woman appreciatively. God it was nice to work for someone who didnt think you were trying to rip them off all the time. And such a good looking woman at that. Sarah had been considering asking her out, but she couldnt get a clear read on her. As friendly as Reese was, she was personally unapproachable. She never discussed any thing other than business, and never gave a hint of sexual innuendo. Sarah wasnt a hundred percent sure the sheriff was gay. Just because she had a rock hard body that looked impossibly good in a uniform and a face so androgenous it belonged on a Greek statue, didnt necessarily make her a lesbian. But Reese Conlon was turning womens heads all over town, and they couldnt all be wrong!

Sarah realized with a start that Reese was waiting for her reply. She blushed and assured Reese that she would keep her appraised of the work schedule.

"Great. Ill get out of your way then," Reese said.

Sarah watched her take the stairs up to the kitchen two at a time, uncomfortably aware that just talking to her had turned her on. She shook her head, deciding that the gorgeous cop was too dangerous to fool with. If a simple conversation could do that to her, who knew what might happen if they actually touched. She wasnt ready for anything that serious, and something told her everything about that one was serious.

Oblivious to Sarahs lingering glance, Reese grabbed her gear and walked the mile into town to the gym. Three or four times a week she worked out at the woman-owned facility in the center of town. Usually she had the place to herself. Most of the tourists were sunning or shopping in the late afternoon, and the regulars tended to work out in the morning. Reese nodded hello to the owner and headed for the free weights. She placed her gym bag against the wall within easy reach. The Chief had informed her that he expected her to carry her weapon with her at all times. Their force was small, and though serious trouble rare, they did have recurring problems with drug use and the violence that accompanied it. Nelson said he wanted her to be available at short notice, especially since she was second in command. Reese didnt mind - she was used to readiness as a way of life. Her gun and her beeper were as much a part of her life as her car keys. That she was essentially always on call didnt bother her either - she didnt really have a personal life beyond her job and her training. She worked, she worked out, and she trained in the dojo. That was the life she knew, the one she had built since the time she was a teenager, and one she was content with. She lifted the barbell over her head and began to count.

Marge Price, who owned the gym, leaned against the counter leafing through a magazine and watching the quiet one work out. Thats how she thought of her - "the quiet one". She knew who Reese was of course. Something as exciting as a new deputy sheriff, especially a good-looking female one, didnt go unnoticed in a place this small. Marged been watching her for a couple of weeks now. Moderate weights, high reps - an occasional heavy set thrown in. The sheriff was obviously working for strength, not mass, though from the stretch of her tee shirt across her broad chest and the muscular tone of her thighs it was obvious she could have done heavy lifting if shed wanted. Bulk clearly wasnt her goal, and the ease with which she stretched after every work out revealed how flexible she was. Marge admired her as an athlete, and was intrigued by her as an individual. She was always polite, considerate, focused, and completely remote. Marge wondered if she was so calm because she wasnt easily disturbed, or if there simply wasnt anything in her life to disturb her. If you avoided involvements, you usually avoided much of lifes turmoil, and Marge had never seen the quiet one with anyone. In fact Marge hadnt seen her anywhere around town unless she was in uniform working, or in the gym working out.

What does she do for enjoyment? Marge mused. If she were younger herself, she might be tempted to try unsettling that one a little bit. Something told Marge that if you got her started she might surprise you. That rare flicker of a smile of hers hinted at the heat of a fire long banked and ready to flare.

At that moment, Reese approached, asking, "Can I get a bottle of water?"

"Sure," Marge replied, reaching into the small refrigerator under the counter. She wiped the condensation off the plastic container with a towel before she handed it to Reese.

Reese took it gratefully, asking as she twisted off the top, "How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Marge answered.

"Thanks just the same, but Id rather pay," Reese said, no hint of censure in her voice.

"A dollar then," Marge said. She regarded the other woman seriously. "Were not looking for any favors you know, with the little handouts people are probably offering you. You do a job we all appreciate. Our businesses are our lives, and if the community isnt safe, tourists wont come. Without them, we starve. In two days this place will go crazy, and your life will get complicated."

Reese drained the bottle dry. "I know that, and Im grateful for your appreciation. But its my job to keep order and see that the streets are safe. I dont need any extra thanks for doing what Im getting paid for."

Marge stared at her. Reese looked back at her with a steady, unwavering gaze. "The boy scouts really lost out when you turned out to be a girl," Marge stated without a hint of a smile.

"What makes you think I wasnt a boy scout?" Reese rejoined just as seriously.

Marge laughed in surprise, and Reese joined her. As they were both catching their breath, Marge asked impetuously, "How would you like to have dinner with me one of these nights after you finish your workout?"

Reese was momentarily uncertain. She wasnt used to casual social encounters, especially with people she didnt know well. But there was something so comfortable about this woman that Reese didnt fear the intrusiveness she experienced so often with strangers.

"Okay."

"So how about tomorrow," Marge persisted. She had a feeling this one was shy, and she didnt want to give her a chance to change her mind. She couldnt say exactly what there was about the younger woman that appealed to her, but she simply liked her.

Reese nodded after a moments thought. "Ill be here."


Chapter Six

Tory glanced toward shore as she stroked rhythmically through the water at six a.m. in the morning. There were a few anglers out, hoping for a jump on the other fishermen, and there on the drive off, the police cruiser. It had been there every morning for a week, and she felt sure she knew who it was. She almost waved, then stopped, chiding herself for her foolishness. There was no reason to think that Reese Conlon was there to see her. She hadnt heard from the sheriff in over a week, since the day she had showed up with Brianna Parker in her patrol car. Tory had to admit she had hoped Reese might call with news of her investigation. Tory found herself looking for the police car each day when she kayaked, her pulse racing a little when she saw it.

A wave took her by surprise, rocking the small craft and reminding her to stop daydreaming. She glanced once more toward shore, trying to make out the profile of the driver, then turned her mind to the sea and the soothing cadence of her strokes.

Reese drained her coffee cup as she watched the red dot disappear around the corner at Race Point. She sat a bit longer before she started the engine. Those few minutes each morning watching Tory glide across the horizon were the most peaceful moments of her day. She couldnt have said exactly why, but she knew what she felt, and had no reason to question it. She pulled the cruiser around toward Route six, settled and ready to work.

She drove east to the town limits, then turned right toward the harbor to complete the circuit back down Commercial Street. At this hour, there was almost no traffic except for the delivery trucks double-parked along the narrow one-way street, their drivers servicing the many businesses densely crowding the thoroughfare. Bikers and roller bladers claimed the road that would be filled with tour buses and tourists on foot by eleven am. By the first day of Memorial Day weekend there would be a steady stream of cars crawling slowly through town until well after midnight. She looked forward to it despite the Chiefs gloomy predictions of chaos. Chances were shed be working twelve hour shifts, but that didnt bother her. Shed have to make adjustments in her workout schedule but that was her only concern. Most nights after the gym she spent completing the renovations to the garage, getting her dojo ready. By nine oclock she was usually in bed with a book. Up at four, she ran five to ten miles on the beach, then showered and was ready to leave the house at six for work. She kept military hours, the same hours she had kept since she was fourteen years old. Her life was orderly, routine, and predictable. Her work as a peacekeeper, first in the military, and now here, provided her with a sense of purpose and satisfaction. Her martial arts training challenged her body and calmed her mind. The absence of close personal ties was not something she questioned or gave any thought to. This was the life she had always lived, and on the whole, she was content.

She waved to Paul Smith as she pulled into the small lot behind the Municipal Building. Paul was one of the young officers who worked the night shift, and they knew each other only well enough to say hello.

"Quiet night?" Reese called.

"Yeah," he said as he unlocked the door to his Dodge truck. "Couple of drunks needed an escort home. I swung by the clinic a few times like you asked. The doc left at midnight - after that it was like a tomb. Its not warm enough for much action in the dunes yet."

The Park Rangers patrolled the dunes during the day, but at night they left it to the Sheriffs department. Soon the three miles of sand along Herring Cove would be packed with bathers and would-be lovers. The dunes above the beach and along Route Six were favorite areas for rendezvous. The police kept people out of the dunes to protect the habitat as much as to deter the sex and drugs. Reese didnt particularly like the duty, but it was part of the job.

No one was in the office, so she took advantage of the quiet to finish time schedules, make up duty rosters, and to peruse recent crime reports from nearby townships. Sooner or later whatever trouble the other towns had would filter down to her community. She was about to brew another pot of coffee and was starting to contemplate lunch when the scanner picked up a 911 call to the EMT station in Wellfleet.

"A guy fell out on the Long Point jetty," an anxious male voice reported. "It looks like his leg is twisted in some rocks and hes bleeding all over the place-"

Reese was up and through the door before the passerby finished giving the information to the dispatcher in the town fifteen miles away. She was two minutes from the scene. Long Point jetty was a long finger of rocks that formed a protective arch between Provincetown harbor and the Atlantic Ocean. It stretched a good two miles and was a favorite tourist attraction. Unfortunately, people often underestimated how treacherous the huge slabs of rock could be, especially when still wet from high tide. A crowd was visible as she swung around Bradford Street, angling her cruiser across the road to prevent access to more curious onlookers. People parted for her rather reluctantly as they pushed out onto the jetty, jostling for a better look. All Reese could see was another crowd milling about several hundred yards further out on the rocky causeway, presumably the site of the accident. She started toward them as quickly as she could, her progress hampered by the poor footing on rocks which were slippery with the debris left by the receding tides. The jetty was comprised of angled blocks of stone piled adjacent to one another, forming a discontinuos walkway. There were large gaps between some slabs, requiring her to jump from one uneven surface to the other. She had gone about a hundred yards, moving as rapidly as she could, when she overtook Victoria King, who was cautiously making her way toward the gathered crowd.