“Yeah. I had family there for years.”

“That’s crazy. Such a small world. I grew up in River Bend.”

Raymond smiled and shook his head. “What are the chances of that? How on earth did you end up in Dallas?”

The answer to that was easy, considering the time in her life that she’d left. “It wasn’t River Bend.”

Raymond nodded in understanding.

Zoe turned back to her drink and noticed how little was left in her glass.

“Can I get you another?”

“I shouldn’t, but . . .”

Raymond laughed and flagged the bartender.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Wild child turned cop . . . what are the chances of that?”

If Jo had ever felt a desire to pull her weapon on a person out of pure spite, it was when Ziggy Brown opened the door.

“Mr. Brown.”

“JoAnne Ward . . . spittin’ image of your daddy, uniform and all.” If Ziggy had left it at that, she might consider his words a compliment. Instead, he let his eyes run down her body, linger back up over her chest, then shift to her eyes.

Jo hiked her sunglasses higher and pretended not to notice.

“Is Zanya here?” Jo already knew the answer but wanted to get the man talking so she could grow accustomed to his voice . . . notice the difference if he was drinking or under the influence of something other than soda.

“She and my adorable little grandbaby are visiting his father.”

Jo wanted to heave.

“And Sheryl?”

“I’m guessing you know she’s at work. Hard to miss her car in the lot as you pass by, Sheriff.”

Well, at least he had her title right.

“And how are you doing?” she asked. “Adjusting to civilian life?”

Ziggy Brown ran both hands through his hair. The muscles across his chest flexed. “I am. I learned a lot on the inside. I have your father to thank for that, you know. He had a hand at putting me away.”

Jo took an involuntary step back before stopping herself.

The shift of Ziggy’s eyes said he noticed her hesitation.

“There’s a whole lot of preaching that happens in prison. Did you know that, JoAnne?”

“It’s Sheriff Ward, Mr. Brown.”

He put his hands to his sides. “Of course. I mean no disrespect. It’s just hard, thinking of how you were growing up, running with my daughter. You’re both so grown up now. Willful . . . anyway . . . lots of God-fearing men on the inside. I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“Are you trying to tell me you found God?”

“In some ways I do think I have.”

And in others? she wanted to ask but didn’t. He was full of shit from the snark-filled smile on his face to the way his arm flexed, holding the door.

The man was attempting to intimidate her.

“Well, Mr. Brown, I’m here to tell you that Oregon’s Department of Corrections has informed me of your parole conditions. I’ll be in constant contact with your parole officer in Eugene and will accept nothing less than one hundred percent on your part in keeping your nose out of trouble.”

Ziggy looked her up and down and made more than one hair on her body stand on end. “Is that right?”

“No wiggle room, Ziggy.” For the first time in their conversation, she used the name he went by.

He didn’t stop staring. “I’ll be the perfect little ex-con, Sheriff.” He lifted three fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

With clenched teeth, she took a backward step off the porch.

It wasn’t until she was back in her car that she took a deep breath.

Ziggy stood on the porch, grin on his face, as she backed out of the drive. She made a mental note to have Deputy Emery with her on future visits to the Brown home. If there was one person she expected bad things from, it was Ziggy Brown.

Summer was in full, heated swing in Dallas, complete with humidity that sucked the air out of your lungs the second you left your air-conditioned car. The space between your car and the building you entered was always a challenge.

Even the dogs sitting on front porches appeared too tired to lift their heads and bark. This time of year always ate at Zoe and had her booking trips to Europe or even somewhere in the tropics where she could at least sit on a beach, sipping an adult beverage or two.

As she drove around the neighborhood she’d considered moving to just a few months prior, she thought about how she would escape the heat once she had a home to consider and not just an apartment. Affording to travel wouldn’t be the problem, but leaving the responsibility might prove difficult.

The humidity in Oregon, even on the coast, was nothing like that in Texas. Not to mention how cool the nights would get. She thought of Luke’s backyard and the open window over the sink.

Yeah . . . that didn’t happen in Dallas in the summer. You turned the AC on and ignored the thermostat for months. There were storms that would blow through, some of them cool enough to open a window, but as soon as the clouds parted, the humidity pushed in.

Zoe turned a corner and noticed a handful of kids, not more than eight or nine years old, playing on a front lawn.

A sprinkler connected to a hose was all the entertainment they needed. A dog ran around their heels, barking.

Would her kids run in the sprinklers? Would they have a dog? How could she get a dog if she couldn’t stand the heat and left the state for weeks on end?

Where on earth had the thought of kids popped into her head from? She’d be a terrible mother. Lord knew she had an awful example of how to parent a child. Besides, growing up without any family help was no way to live if you didn’t have to.