The Police Chief's Lady

Dear Reader,

The Police Chief’s Lady is the first of three books set in the imaginary but real (to me, at least!) town of Downhome, Tennessee. It’s a place that needs doctors and offers them a second chance—with unexpected results.

People often ask where I get my ideas. In this case, the answer is easy: My father was, for a time, the only doctor in the small town of Menard, Texas. He rarely took a vacation because of the difficulty in finding another doctor to cover for him. Rather than have her babies at the nearest hospital, which was in another county, my mother gave birth at home, with Dad delivering my brother and me.

We eventually moved away, and I grew up mostly in Nashville, Tennessee, which is why I’ve chosen that state as the setting for these books. Although I live in California now, my mother still resides there.

I hope you’ll enjoy the story of Jenni and Ethan, and look forward as I do to the next two books, to be published in February and April. My heroines will be Leah Morris, the teacher who’s ready to spread her wings, and Karen Lowell, who’s never entirely fallen out of love with Dr. Chris McRay, even though his testimony sent her brother to prison.

You can e-mail me at [e-mail], and check out my latest books at www.jacquelinediamond.com.

Happy reading!

The Police Chief’s Lady

Jacqueline Diamond

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In memory of my father

Books by Jacqueline Diamond

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

913—THE IMPROPERLY PREGNANT PRINCESS

962—DIAGNOSIS: EXPECTING BOSS’S BABY

971—PRESCRIPTION: MARRY HER IMMEDIATELY

978—PROGNOSIS: A BABY? MAYBE

1046—THE BABY’S BODYGUARD

1075—THE BABY SCHEME

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

“Nobody knows better than I do how badly this town needs a doctor,” Police Chief Ethan Forrest told the crowd crammed into the Downhome, Tennessee, city council chambers. “But please, not Dr. Jenni Vine.”

He hadn’t meant to state his objection so bluntly, he mused as he registered the startled reaction of his audience. Six months ago, he’d been so alarmed by the abrupt departure of the town’s two resident doctors, a married couple, that he’d probably have said yes to anyone with an M.D. after his or her name.

Worried about his five-year-old son, Nick, who was diabetic, Ethan had suggested that the town advertise for physicians to fill the vacated positions. He also recommended that they hire a long-needed obstetrician. In the meantime, patients who couldn’t be helped by the nurse practitioner or staff nurse had to drive twelve miles to Mill Valley.

Applications hadn’t exactly poured in. Only two had arrived from qualified family doctors, both of whom had toured Downhome recently by invitation. One was clearly superior, and as a member of the three-person search committee, Ethan felt it his duty to say so.

“Dr. Gregory is more experienced and, in my opinion, more stable,” he said. “He’s married with three kids, and I believe he’s motivated to stick around for the long term.” Although less than ideal in one respect, the Louisville physician took his duties seriously and, Ethan had no doubt, would fit into the community.

“Of course he’s motivated!” snapped Olivia Rockwell, who stood beside Ethan just below the city council’s dais. The tall African-American woman, who was the school principal, chaired the committee. “You told us yourself he’s a recovering alcoholic.”

“He volunteered the information, along with the fact that he’s been sober for a couple of years,” Ethan replied. “His references are excellent and he expressed interest in expanding our public health efforts. I think he’d be perfect to oversee the outreach program I’ve been advocating.”

“So would Jenni—I mean, Dr. Vine,” said the third committee member, Karen Lowell, director of the Tulip Tree Nursing Home. “She’s energetic and enthusiastic. Everybody took to her.”

“She certainly has an outgoing personality,” he responded. On her visit, the California blonde had dazzled people with her expensive clothes and her good humor after being drenched in a thunderstorm, which she seemed to regard as a freak of nature. It probably didn’t rain on her parade very often out in the land of perpetual sunshine, Ethan supposed. “But once the novelty wears off, she’ll head for greener pastures and we’ll need another doctor.”

“So you aren’t convinced she’ll stay. None of us is in the mind-reading business,” Olivia opined. “Is that the extent of your objections? This isn’t typical of you, Chief. I’ll bet you’ve got something else up that tailored sleeve of yours.”

Ethan was about to pass off her comment as a joke, when he noticed some of the townsfolk leaning forward in their seats with anticipation. Despite being a quiet town best known for dairy farmers and a factory that made imitation antiques, Downhome had an appetite for gossip.

Although Ethan had hoped to avoid going into detail, the audience awaited his explanation. Was he being unfair to the applicant? he asked himself. True, he’d taken a mild dislike to Dr. Vine’s surfer-girl demeanor, but he could get over that. What troubled him was the reason she wanted to leave L.A. in the first place.

“You all know I conducted background checks on the candidates,” he began. “Credit records, convictions, that sort of thing.”

“And found no criminal activities, right?” Karen tucked a curly strand of reddish brown hair behind one ear.

“That’s correct. I also double-checked with the medical directors at their hospitals.”

“You didn’t mention that,” Olivia murmured.

“I hoped I wouldn’t have to bring it up.”

“I wasn’t criticizing,” the principal said. “I admire your thoroughness.”

Around the room, heads bobbed. Ethan felt glad the townspeople respected his approach. Four years ago, when he left the Nashville Metropolitan Police Department and returned home after his wife’s death, he had believed his professionalism was the reason they’d chosen him as chief over several other candidates.

Well, he had a bombshell to drop, so he’d better get it over with. “A few months ago, Dr. Vine became enmeshed in a controversy.” He tried to ignore the impatient way Karen twirled a pencil between her fingers. “Dr. Vine was counseling one of her patients about marital problems. She met with the woman and her husband outside of work.”

“What’s wrong with that?” demanded the nursing home director.

“Nothing, on the face of it,” Ethan replied. “However, a short time later, the patient filed a complaint. She told the medical director that her husband had confessed to becoming involved in an affair with Dr. Vine.”

Karen’s pencil went flying. In the audience, a couple of exclamations broke the stillness and some faces registered disapproval.

Olivia raised one eyebrow. “From this you conclude that she’s a husband-stealing tart who would sully the moral fiber of our community?”

“If we hire her, we’re placing her in a position of trust,” Ethan responded. “If she’s the type of person to exploit a situation, it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Jenni has a right to defend herself,” Karen said. “Did you speak to her about this?”

“Not directly, but I did look further.” Ethan checked his notes. “In response to the hospital board’s inquiry, Dr. Vine denied the allegation. She claimed the husband had been antagonistic and lied to get her out of the picture.” It struck him as a weak excuse, but he was here to present the facts.

“What action did the board take?” Olivia asked.

He folded the notes into his pocket. “They concluded there wasn’t enough evidence to take action. However, word got out, and the medical director says Dr. Vine’s presence on the staff has become awkward. Even assuming she’s innocent, that reinforces my concern as to whether she intends to stay here or is simply grasping at the first chance to escape an unpleasant situation.”

Council member Mae Anne McRay, a retired principal whose wheelchair barely permitted her to see above the council’s raised counter, piped up. “We advertised that we were offering doctors a second chance, didn’t we?”

“A second chance to live in a friendly, affordable town and escape from practicing corporate medicine,” said the mayor, Olivia’s husband, Archie Rockwell, who owned the feed store. “Not a second chance to seduce someone’s husband.”

“How about a second chance to prove she cares about patients and isn’t afraid to stick her neck out?” Mae Anne retorted.

“A recovering alcoholic needs a second chance, too,” Ethan observed. “And he’s been clean for a couple of years.”

Archie frowned. “I’m with Ethan on this one. Seducing a patient’s husband—that’s a serious allegation.”

“Maybe she was conducting sex therapy,” cracked Gwen Martin. The peppery café owner lived by the dictum that nobody over fifty should hesitate to speak her mind. “For Pete’s sake, the hospital board cleared her.”

“We didn’t advertise for no sex therapist,” grumbled 79-year-old Beau Johnson, who maintained a colloquial way of speaking despite his stature as grocery store owner and a descendant of the town’s founder.

“It’s not a matter of yea or nay on Dr. Vine. We have an excellent choice in Dr. Gregory,” observed Mayor Rockwell, keeping a wary eye on his wife. Olivia ruled her family as firmly as she ruled the town’s elementary and high school in her consolidated role as the town’s principal.

“We have to be careful. A controversy like this could tear our town apart!” cried the council’s fifth member, Rosie O’Bannon, owner of the Snip ’N’ Curl salon. Since she was given to making dire pronouncements that hardly ever came true, no one bothered to answer.

“Let’s put it to a vote,” the mayor said. “I know some folks in the audience have to get up early in the morning to tend to their farms, so do I hear a motion?”

“I move we hire Dr. Jenni Vine,” Gwen said.

“Second,” said Mae Anne.

“Discussion?” the mayor asked, following the formalities.

“We already had one,” Beau snipped.

The vote split three-to-two, women against men. That surprised Ethan, who’d expected Downhome’s ladies to reject a potential predator in their midst.

In any case, the decision had been made. Dr. Vine would be offered the position.

As the meeting broke up, he tried not to show his disappointment. Although the physician might have been falsely accused, Ethan had always had a knack for sizing people up, and his instincts told him that their new doctor was materialistic, spoiled and accustomed to charming her way out of difficulties.

“Well, Ethan?” Olivia asked as she collected her purse. “Think you can get used to a liberated lady in a white coat?”

“I’d hoped whoever we hired would work on the outreach program, but she didn’t show much interest when I mentioned it.” He shrugged. “As for my son…Nick’s medical team is in Nashville. We only contact the local doctor if there’s an emergency.”

“That’s your answer? That you’re going to avoid her?” the principal challenged.

“Quite the opposite. I keep my eye on everything that happens in Downhome. But I expect she’ll soon get tired of playing Marcus Welby and find a job closer to a shopping mall.”

Nearby, Karen straightened after retrieving her pencil. She bestowed a brief glare on Ethan before heading off.

He wished he hadn’t made such a tactless remark in Karen’s hearing. She apparently identified with Dr. Vine, perhaps because both were single women in their early thirties…or because her family was no stranger to questionable accusations.

Well, the time had come to switch from cop to daddy and collect Nick from his grandma’s house. At this hour, Ethan could expect only a sleepy hug as he tucked Nick into bed, but maybe he’d get lucky and hear a five-year-old’s recap of the day’s events.

He decided not to worry about Karen’s reaction. By the time Dr. Vine arrived, his comments would be old news.

THE WHIRR OF THE SEWING MACHINE masked the ring of Jenni’s cell phone. Attuned to being on call, however, she stopped in mid-seam and made a dive for her purse, which she’d dropped on the sofa bed after work.

She extracted the instrument and said breathlessly, “Dr. Vine.”

“Jenni? It’s Karen.” The Tulip Tree director’s excitement pulsed across the two-thousand-mile distance. “They voted! You’ll be getting a call from the mayor tomorrow.”

She could hardly breathe. “Do you mean…?”

“You got it!” Karen crowed. “Congratulations! When Archie calls, act surprised, okay?”

“You bet. That’s wonderful!” Jenni performed a little dance across the worn carpet of her tiny East L.A. apartment, which was all she could afford while paying off medical school loans.

No more commuting forty-five minutes each way in heavy traffic! No more worries about a possible threat from the abusive man whose wife she’d tried to rescue, and no more dubious looks from colleagues because of his lies. And since she’d written her last student loan check the previous month—which she’d celebrated by bringing doughnuts for everyone at work—she could afford to take a small-town position.

She felt ready for a change and for a second chance, as the ad had suggested. The friendliness of the people she’d met on her visit—most of them, anyway—had clinched her decision to take the position if it was offered.

“How soon can you come?” Karen asked. She and Jenni had clicked instantly, a fact that made the town all the more inviting.

“I have to give two weeks’ notice.” Jenni’s mind raced ahead. There wasn’t much to pack, and the only person she felt close to, the physician who’d mentored her, had retired the previous year and moved with her husband to Arizona. “I’ll need to find an apartment. Or is there a residential hotel?”

“No, but I’ll watch for vacancies,” Karen said. “You can stay with me till you locate a place. I’m sure my brother won’t mind. We’ve got plenty of room in the house.”

“That’s really kind, but it seems like an imposition,” Jenni replied.

“Actually, I’d enjoy it,” her new friend responded. “Besides, you’ll find a place before long.”

“That sounds wonderful, then! Thank you.” Things were meshing so easily that Jenni instinctively wondered what might go wrong. In her experience, you had to prove yourself wherever you went. “Some people must have preferred the other candidate.” She’d heard he was a middle-aged guy with a family. “If there are reservations about me, I’d like to know in advance. Especially since I’m on three months’ probation.”

“That’s true,” Karen said. “Well…”

“You won’t hurt my feelings.” Living for years with relatives who didn’t really want her had toughened Jenni to rejection, and taught her to deal with it up front. “Frankly, I figured the council would prefer someone older.”

“Some of them did,” Karen admitted. “It was a three-two vote. The women wanted you and the men preferred Dr. Gregory. Come to think of it, that was true for the search committee, too. It’s funny how that worked out.”

Jenni remembered the other two members of the committee quite clearly. “I’m glad I won Olivia’s approval. So the police chief disagreed. What was his name again?” She’d done her best to put it out of her head.

“Ethan Forrest.”

“Right.” She’d first seen him as she pulled her rental car into the clinic’s parking lot, twenty minutes late after a long drive from Nashville. He’d been scowling as he paced the walkway.

Even at a distance, Chief Forrest’s solid build and dark, masculine good looks had struck her. When she emerged from the car, Jenni had experienced what she called a go-back moment, an abrupt mood shift; suddenly she felt like a fifteen-year-old about to be chewed out by an adult. As a teenager, she’d often landed in trouble because she defied anyone who tried to put her down.

Ethan Forrest hadn’t scolded Jenni for tardiness. He’d even managed a smile, but not a warm one. She’d felt his brooding gaze following her the whole day as she toured the medical facilities and the town. Apparently, he’d taken a dislike to her, although she had no idea why.

“What exactly were his objections?” she asked.

After a moment’s hesitation, Karen said, “He brought up some accusation—which I’m sure isn’t true—about you and a patient’s husband.”

Jenni’s hands clenched. How dare he embarrass her publicly without even hearing her side of the story! She had to remind herself that the council had voted in her favor anyway.

“I hope nobody believed it,” she responded. “Because it isn’t true.”

“I know that!”

“Apparently, Chief Forrest doesn’t.” She decided immediately to call him by his first name as if they were equals. In some ways, they were, although she still faced probation. “What else did Ethan say?”

“Something about keeping an eye on you,” Karen admitted.

What did he think she planned to do—spend her days targeting other women’s husbands? But Jenni refused to vent her anger while talking to her new friend.

With an exercise of will, she kept her voice level as she assured Karen that she felt certain Ethan would come around. “And I promise to sound totally shocked when Mr. Rockwell calls tomorrow,” she added.

“I’m so thrilled! My friend Leah Morris—she’s a teacher—suggested we single women hold a potluck in your honor when you get here. Maybe you can share some stories about L.A. and we can clue you in about the local guys. Not that there are many worth talking about.”

“That would be great.” Jenni looked forward to meeting a supportive group of women. In L.A., she’d barely had time to keep up with her professional reading and affiliations, let alone socialize.

Her good mood lasted until she and Karen hung up. Then the information about Ethan Forrest came back to her. What was the man’s problem?

Grabbing a pillow, she whacked the arm of the couch. “Why?” Jenni demanded of this imaginary target. “Why did you try to screw things up for me? What did I ever do to you?”

She stood there, pillow in hand, overcome by another go-back moment. Ethan Forrest was a big man in Downhome and she’d be an outsider. She could picture him forever finding fault, searching for ways to turn others against her as Cousin Laura had done when Jenni, as a high school freshman, had to stay at her aunt’s house after one of her mother’s drug-related arrests.

Laura, a junior who resented having to share her home and her mother’s attention, had made life miserable for months by taunting Jenni at school. Jenni had initially tried to please her, but finally decided she’d turned the other cheek long enough.

One day, she’d responded to a gibe in kind, in front of other kids, tossing out embarrassing details until Laura fled in tears. Following her, Jenni had threatened worse if she reported the incident, and after that, Laura had left her alone.

Jenni wasn’t proud of what she’d done, but she’d felt desperate. She’d learned a lesson that day about standing up for herself.

Confronting the police chief might not be the wisest policy. However it went against Jenni’s nature to let him run her down behind her back. If he had anything to say, he had better be prepared to say it to her face.

Still stewing, she returned to her machine. Thank goodness for her flair with the needle, because she could never afford to buy a designer suit like this.

That was another life lesson she’d learned: no matter how poor you were, dressing badly made you the object of scorn. Survival had its rules, and Jenni was a survivor.

She intended to get that message across to Ethan in a manner he wouldn’t forget.

Chapter Two

From his office window, Ethan glanced across Tulip Tree Avenue at a couple of dog walkers making their way through the central square known as The Green. On a Monday morning, the center of Downhome spread placidly before him. To his left, a dairy truck turned south at the intersection of Tulip Tree and Home Boulevard; across the street next to The Green, a couple of workmen emerged from Pepe’s Italian Diner with cups of steaming coffee.

The town didn’t appear a likely setting for a crime wave. And by city standards, the recent reports of petty thefts seemed tame. Still, Ethan found something disturbing about the reports on his desk.

“You wanted to see me?” Captain Ben Fellows, the top-ranking officer below Ethan, appeared in his doorway. Unofficially, Ben filled the role of assistant chief. A few years older than Ethan and with fifteen years on the force, he’d been in the running for the top job four years ago, but didn’t seem to resent having been passed over.

“Yes. Is Mark with you?”

“Right here” came the voice of Lieutenant Mark O’Bannon, who supervised detectives and traffic in the small department.

Ethan gestured them into seats. His office provided enough space for a few visitors as well as a bookcase, file cabinet and computer station. As for the decor, his mother, Annette, a part-time interior designer and part-time baby-sitter, had picked out the cream paint and subtle green-and-cream print curtains. He’d retained the former chief’s oversize desk, with its accumulated scars, as a tribute to departmental tradition.

“This latest report—that makes three cases,” Ethan noted. “I’d say it rules out family and friends of the victims, which means we could be dealing with a serial criminal. The fact that no one’s been hurt and property loss is minimal doesn’t change the reality that these crimes are invasive and threatening by their very nature. What do you think?”

Mark, the twenty-eight-year-old son of council member Rosie O’Bannon, deferred instinctively to Captain Fellows. Ethan was also eager to hear Ben’s insight, since the man served as pastor at the Community Church and knew the citizenry better than anyone.

“Frankly, it’s a new one on me.” Ben scratched his head. “Someone slipping into houses and stealing family portraits off the wall is weird. And I agree, somewhat scary because it seems like a hostile thing to do. The guy might have the potential for violence, especially if someone stumbles across him.”

“At first, I figured it was a prank,” Mark noted. “I assumed the photos would turn up soon.”

“We can rule that out at this point,” Ethan said. “The stories in the paper have made it clear how distressed the victims are.”

The first case had been reported a month ago. A woman returning from a shopping trip had noticed a family photo missing from her living room wall but assumed her husband had taken it down. Only when she’d asked him about it that night and learned otherwise had she remembered leaving a side door unlocked. When she’d called the cops, they’d found a couple of leaves tracked inside but no real evidence.

In the second theft, two weeks later, a retired couple had been puzzled by the absence of their favorite photo and distressed a few days later when they realized it hadn’t simply been mislaid by the cleaning lady. The group portrait, which was irreplaceable, included a son who’d been killed in military action.