Thanks again for the continued support of this little fic! A special thank you to those guests who have offered comments but whom I can't thank directly.
A couple of people have asked about the setting of the story. My fictional Cannon River is very much based on a real town of similar size located in the middle of the central Oregon coast. (Anyone interested in doing a little detective work online could probably figure out which one!) I'm currently landlocked in the Midwest of the US but am fortunate enough to be able to visit my "Cannon River" a few times a year. :) Pretty much my favorite place in the world.
Chapter 5
A cop, Jane thought to himself incredulously as he walked along the highway back towards Sam and Pete's place. A passing logging truck rumbled by, kicking up dust and leaves in its wake which swirled at his feet, but he scarcely noticed. The first intelligent, attractive, interesting woman he'd met in god knows how long… and she turns out to be a cop.
He really couldn't beat himself up too badly for not picking up on this little fact in any of their earlier encounters. Up until an hour ago, he reasoned to himself, he had no reason to think she was anything other than a woman running a bakery. Perhaps someone running from her past, sure (he still didn't know why she had left her job in Portland or have any insight into her relationship with Minelli). But until he had done his little reading of her and fished out this info, police detective wasn't even on his radar.
Still, he thought, despite the problems this would almost certainly pose for him, he couldn't help but remain drawn to her. A simmering attraction had been buzzing between the two of them since their very first meeting, and even though she might be wary or suspicious of who he was and what he did for a living, she was clearly still feeling it, too. That fleeting moment that had passed between them when they had locked eyes during his reading of her had certainly confirmed that.
And what the hell had happened there exactly? he silently chastised himself. In all his years of playing the part of psychic so rarely did he lose focus and allow himself to be drawn in by someone like that. It was an unprofessional lapse in control on his part as far as he was concerned. And yet, he realized, perhaps by briefly lowering his own guard (albeit it inadvertently) he had gotten her to lower her own a bit as well. Sure, she had continued to challenge and question him afterwards, all but calling him out as a fraud. But by the end of their conversation, her attitude towards him and overall demeanor had noticeably softened. Beneath that hard veneer she presented, he could see the compassionate, vulnerable person underneath. It was a fascinating dichotomy, one that he wanted to explore further, in spite of the potential complications that might arise.
He arrived at the campground at dusk, the liquidy orange sun having just dipped beyond the dusty-colored waves of the ocean. Pete, who was just coming out of the house to take the salmon that was to be their dinner out of the smoker, greeted him jovially.
"Just in time, Paddy!" he called out as he saw Patrick approaching. "Come on over and give me a hand here, will ya?" He passed the giant plate he was holding to Jane who held it steady while Pete began piling the filets onto it.
"So, Sam tells me that place of yours is really shaping up nicely. When's the opening day, again?"
"Day after tomorrow," Jane replied cheerfully. "Word of mouth is starting to spread and should reach fever pitch by then."
"Well, if you need help with anything you let me know," Pete offered with a wink as he closed the hood on the smoker and the two men began making their way into the cottage. Sam was finishing setting the table as they entered the kitchen, and the three sat down to eat their meal around the small oval table. They plated their food and made amiable small talk as they ate, and after a few minutes Jane decided to broach the subject that was still in the forefront of his mind.
"So, what do you two know about Teresa Lisbon?" he asked.
"You mean the state trooper who runs the café?" Sam replied casually.
"Oh, so you knew about that? Well, thanks for giving me the heads up there, Sam!" he answered jokingly. "I've been chatting up this woman all week and didn't have a clue that she was a cop."
"Well, then you must be losing your touch. And I didn't realize you had even met her, Patrick… or that you were sweet on her." Sam raised her eyebrows playfully and exchanged a knowing look with her husband, who cast a curious glance at Jane from across the table.
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," he answered somewhat sheepishly before taking another bite of fish, although he knew that neither Sam nor Pete would be convinced by his weak response.
"But getting back to your question, Patrick," Sam began with a grin, "I can't say as I really know her that well. But, I've been in her shop a few times and she's seems like a smart, sassy type- someone who could sure keep you on your toes."
Jane smiled in silent agreement as he finished crewing his latest bite. "Yeah, we've had a few spirited conversations over the last few days. I did a little cold reading on her and her friend just for fun, and she basically called out almost every little play I was making, nailed me to the wall."
"Wait a minute," Pete interjected. "Am I to believe that you, a Jane… are actually interested in a cop? A cop who's already called you out and could blow your entire operation at any given moment?"
Jane paused thoughtfully before answering. "Against my better judgment, yes, Pete, I suppose I am."
Pete shook his head apprehensively while chuckling at the same time. "Well, I know you've always enjoyed playing with fire, Patrick, but you better watch yourself with this one. I don't know this woman from Adam, but if what you and Sam are saying about her is right, maybe you oughta set that ego of yours aside, cut your losses, and quit while you're ahead."
Jane considered Pete's cautioning words; it wasn't as if his old friend were saying anything he hadn't already thought about himself. At the very least, he knew Teresa Lisbon would be a distraction. Hell, she already was. But Jane, who had always been one who liked to have his cake and eat it, too, was somehow convinced that it would be worth the risk and that he could handle the delicate balancing act that lay ahead of him.
xxxxx
Late the next morning after spending an hour or so putting the finishing touches on his store, Jane strolled across the street and entered the sunny café, eager to see if the tentative truce he and Teresa had established was still holding. He immediately spotted Grace through the kitchen window, and the friendly redhead smiled warmly and waved at him from a distance. The shop was surprisingly quiet and Teresa was standing at the end of the counter her attention focused on a pile of labels she was attaching to coffee bags that she was stacking on the display shelf. Before she noticed him standing there he quickly took his white handkerchief out of his front pocket and waved it gently in the air in mock surrender, which immediately caught her attention and elicited a small chuckle.
"I think we already agreed to our ceasefire yesterday, Jane," she said evenly.
"Well, it doesn't hurt to check for sure, does it?"
"I suppose not," she replied, setting down the bag she had in her hands. "So, what can I get for you today?"
"A cup of English Breakfast, please," he answered back as he peaked into the glass case. "And I'll try a cheese Danish this time," he continued. As he took out his wallet and handed her the cash, he shook his head somewhat grudgingly at the absence (once again) of his favorite pastry.
"You know, one of these days, Lisbon…" he began teasingly.
"One of these days, what?" she asked as she poured milk, then water into a teal-colored cup as per his exacting instructions, which she remembered from his previous visits.
"One of these days you're going to set aside one of those blueberry muffins for me, and then I'll know that we've truly made peace."
"Or maybe one of these days you'll actually get your ass in here before nine o'clock and get one for yourself." She set his tea and Danish on the counter in front of him and gave him a cheeky grin. Damn, was she adorable when she was being a smartass.
"Touché," he replied with the tilt of his head. "So, are you due for a break soon? I'd love to have your company while I enjoy my breakfast."
"Sure," she replied after a moment's hesitation. "I guess we are kind of slow right now." She grabbed a mug off the rack and filled it, came around the counter and joined him at a nearby table next to the window.
"So, I am curious about something, well a few things actually…" he began as he dipped the tea diffuser into his cup and she took a first sip of her coffee.
"Yes?"
"Why did you leave your job in the city? Achieving the level of detective, that's an impressive career accomplishment for someone your age. I imagine you must have had a good reason to give that up."
"Well, I didn't give it up entirely. I'm just on a leave of absence." She seemed reticent to say much more, but Jane raised his eyebrows curiously, smiled softly and waited. He knew a few moments of uncomfortable silence would be too much for her, and she'd eventually continue with her explanation. Which she did, although not before smirking and shaking her head slightly, as if to let him know that she was fully aware of his little ploy to get her talking.
"I was injured on the job. About ten months ago I was chasing this guy down an alley, a suspect in a B and E. One his tweaker friends jumped me and tackled me to the ground. He had a knife and managed to stab me in the leg about eight times."
"Jesus." Jane was aghast. She spoke of the attack with such an even-keeled voice, it almost gave off the impression she was merely annoyed or inconvenienced by the experience rather than traumatized by it.
"Yeah. There was a lot of ligament and tissue damage, but fortunately the guy missed the artery, otherwise I probably would have bled out right there on the street…Anyway, I was healing up, but my boss wanted to put me on desk duty for six months until I was a hundred percent. I knew that would drive me crazy, and it was right around that time that Virgil called me." She took another long drink from her cup.
"Minelli, the owner of this place. How do you know him?"
"Oh, I've known Virgil forever." An affectionate smile permeated her expression. "He and my dad were in the Air Force together. After my parents were gone, Virgil was like a father to my brothers and me, always looking out for us. He called a few weeks after visiting me in the hospital, all excited about the new boat he had just bought. He talked about the big trip he wanted to take and how he was looking for someone to look after the shop while he was gone. And I just thought here's a chance… to help him after all he's done for me over the years, and give myself the break I needed while I got better."
"Doesn't sound like much of a break to me, running this place," Jane offered, his eyes sweeping the spacious café.
"Well, it's a lot slower here in the winter and I spent a fair amount of time perched up on that stool over there the first month or so," she replied with a self-deprecating laugh. "And of course Grace was a lifesaver, helped me out a lot."
"You'll miss her when you leave," Jane stated plainly, hearing the hint of sadness in her voice as she spoke of her friend.
"Of course," Teresa replied. She looked down pensively at the mug that remained clasped in her hands even after she had set it on the table. She was uncomfortable talking about herself, Jane could clearly see that, and yet she had spoken so openly, probably more than she planned. She quickly shifted her body and sat back in her chair, eager to change the subject and get the focus off of herself. "So, what about you?" she asked briskly.
"What about me?" he replied.
"Well, I know next to nothing about you," she began, "other than the fact that you arrived in town barely a week ago under the guise of this so-called psychic persona."
Jane chuckled lightly before responding. "Well, you are free to ask me anything you like, Teresa. My life is an open book," he responded breezily.
"Oh, I very much doubt that," she answered wryly, and of course they both knew this to be true. She was a cop and he was a conman. Whatever was going on between the two of them, there was no getting around the hard but unspoken truth. He had broken the law (or at least skirted it) more than a few times in his illustrious career, and while she probably suspected this was the case, he was almost certain she wasn't going to ask him about it. He definitely didn't feel the need to go into the particulars of this aspect of his life.
And yet, he thought, he did want to get to know her better, wanted her to like him, and maybe at some point even trust him. To make this happen Jane knew he'd have to be at least a little more upfront about himself than he would be otherwise. And it wasn't as if he had to confess all his past crimes and transgressions; he just needed to share enough of himself to show her that he wasn't a totally amoral scoundrel.
"Go ahead," he replied, looking her square in the eye. "Ask me whatever you'd like to know."
"Alright," she began cautiously. "What were doing before you came here? I mean, are you always on the move doing this 'psychic medium' thing?"
"Most of the time, although for the last few months I've been playing cards, poker mostly, working my way through the casinos and backroom games in Reno, Vegas, Atlantic City…"
"Making all kinds of friends amongst the local gaming officials, I assume," she interjected, raising her eyebrows.
"Well, I never really stay in one place long enough to be a bother to any of those fine people," he answered cheekily.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that last part," she replied in a pseudo-threatening tone, then paused. "But seriously- always on the move, constantly going from place to place? Sounds like a pretty lonely life to me, monotonous even."
"It's the life I'm used to; it's been that way ever since I was a kid."
"Yeah, you mentioned that the other day. What's the story there?"
Jane glanced down for a second, smiling to himself, then looked up to meet her eyes once more. "I grew up on the carnival circuit, actually."
Teresa's eyes were wide with surprise. "You were a carnie?"
Jane nodded. "My father owned and operated various sideshows over the years, his most popular being the 'Psychic Boy Wonder' act." He spoke the last words sharply, making no attempt to hide his feelings regarding his long-estranged father.
"And that was you," she replied with dawning understanding. "How old were you?"
"I've been reading people for a living since I was about nine years old."
"Nine years old?" Teresa was astonished. "You were just a kid. What about school? Friends?...Little League?"
Jane snorted a laugh. "My father didn't see much need for any of that. I went to school for short spurts here and there when I was younger, when the fair would shut down for the winters. But mostly I just learned what I needed to know from the people around me. That is one thing I miss about the carnie life; the camaraderie of it, having people who are always there, who'll look out for you and have your back when you need it."
"Hmm" Teresa smiled, shaking her head a little, and he looked at her quizzically.
"Well, what you were just saying there, the way you were describing it," she began, "it sounds kind of like being a cop."
The two of them laughed lightly at the irony of it, and held each other's gaze for a moment. She was the first look away, then she held up her now empty coffee cup.
"Well, I better get back to work," she said softly then quickly added. "But, I'm glad you stopped by, Jane."
"Me, too," he replied back, a tender smile spreading across his face.
As he watched her walk away he felt a twinge of uneasiness rise within his chest.
This, he thought to himself, was going to be much more complicated than he imagined.
