by Sherry Lewis
“So you’re still working in Crisis?”
Abby nodded. “And you’re still with Missing Persons. I saw your name in the newspaper.” Her expression sobered and her voice dropped. “I’m sorry about the boy.”
Just as they had too often in the past five days, tears pooled in Lucy’s eyes before she could stop them. She nodded, but she didn’t trust herself to speak.
But Abby didn’t miss a thing. “Are you doing okay?”
Nodding again, Lucy did her best to look normal. “I’m fine. It’s just hard to deal with.”
“I can imagine.” Abby’s concern and compassion seemed genuine, but that only made Lucy feel worse—especially since it must be obvious why she was standing outside this building at ten o’clock on a rainy Thursday morning. “What are you doing to get past it?”
“Working,” Lucy hedged. “What else?”
The corners of Abby’s mouth turned down. “That’s always been the answer for you, hasn’t it?”
“Work’s always there,” Lucy said with a thin smile.
“Yeah, but there’s more to life than work.”
They’d disagreed so often in the past on that very issue, Lucy didn’t want to go there. Abby considered Lucy career-obsessed; Lucy had always thought Abby could benefit from a bit more commitment. But Lucy couldn’t argue with her today. For the first time in her life, work was not the answer.
She gave a little shrug. “I’ll get through it. I always do.” She just hoped she sounded more convinced than she felt.
Abby’s lips curved gently. “I’m sure you will. But just in case…” She dug a card from her pocket and slipped it to Lucy. “It doesn’t hurt to have someone to talk to.” Her gaze flicked toward the door and her smile grew a shade warmer. “A friend.”
The gesture both surprised and touched Lucy. She dropped the card into her pocket and tried to hold herself together. The last thing she wanted was to arrive for her appointment late and emotional. “Thanks, Abby. I appreciate that.” And she was surprised to find how much she meant it. She caught a glimpse of a clock in the lobby, realized that she was now a full ten minutes late, and gestured toward the door. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Abby nodded, and Lucy wondered if she only imagined the slight pulling back. “Sure. I understand. Call if you need to. I mean that.”
“Yeah.” Lucy reached again for the door handle and tugged it open, but before she stepped inside she met Abby’s gaze once more. “Take care of yourself.”
“You, too.”
And that was that. Abby turned away, and Lucy forced herself to put the encounter out of her mind as she raced toward the elevators. For the first time since they’d drifted apart, she had the disturbing feeling that she wasn’t going to be all right until she’d made an effort to patch things up with the others.
But she didn’t have time to worry about that now. Cecily would probably read all sorts of things into her late arrival. Lucy couldn’t explain the delay without dredging up her personal history—and that was something she had no intention of sharing with Cecily Fontaine.
Chapter Eight
CECILY WAS WAITING FOR her, of course. Lucy found her standing beside her assistant’s desk, pretending to go over some paperwork. She was a pleasant-looking woman of about forty with short-cropped brown hair and a friendly smile that matched her telephone voice. To give her credit, she didn’t show any sign of disapproval over Lucy’s late arrival.
After shaking hands as if they were old friends, she led Lucy into a large office with wide windows, an abundance of plants and a fountain in one corner. It was so perfectly put together, Lucy decided Cecily either had a lot in common with her mother, or she’d paid someone a healthy sum to feng shui her workspace.
Cecily indicated a chair covered in pale blue leather so soft Lucy wondered how much the city gave her for a decorating budget. “I’m glad you decided to keep your appointment,” she said, lowering herself into a matching desk chair. She sat back in the chair, almost pointedly refraining from picking up the pen that sat on an open notebook. “I was afraid something might happen to keep you away.”
“I said I’d be here,” Lucy reminded her.
“Yes, but you also made it quite clear that your case would come first.”
Lucy stiffened. “Are you saying it shouldn’t?”
“Not at all.” Cecily crossed her legs and her friendly smile never wavered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. Nick had a lot of good things to say about you.”
“So you’ve already discussed me?”
“Briefly. You should be pleased to know that Nick considers you one of his best officers.”
The compliment surprised Lucy. How was she supposed to respond to that? “I like what I do,” she said after a pause that felt way too long.
“You’re lucky. Not many people get to earn a living doing something they love.” Cecily linked her fingers together in her lap and set one leg moving gently. “So, why don’t you tell me what you’d like to talk about?”
“What I want to talk about?” Lucy laughed before she could stop herself. “That’s going to be a short list.”
“That’s perfectly all right.”
“I’d rather not talk about anything,” Lucy admitted. “I don’t see any reason to be here.”
“I’m aware of that, too.” Cecily smiled again, this time as if they shared a secret. “There’s no need to be defensive. These sessions aren’t designed so I can evaluate you as a human being. I just want to help you process what happened with your last case.”
“Can you short-circuit the grieving process?”
“Would you like to?”
Lucy shook her head and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I don’t think there’s a good answer to that question.”
“The truth is always good.”
“Well, we’ll stick with that, then.”
“So would you like to short-circuit the grieving process?”
“What I’d like is to stop feeling guilty about Tomas’s death.” The admission surprised her as much as it seemed to please Dr. Fontaine.
“Why do you feel guilt?”
“Because I didn’t save him, and I should have.”
“In a perfect world.”
But that was the point, wasn’t it? They didn’t live in a perfect world, but Lucy’s job was to compensate for that. To take up the slack where the world fell short.
“Why don’t we start at the beginning,” Cecily suggested. “Tell me about Tomas.”
“I don’t see what good that would do.”
“Maybe none. That’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it?”
Could she talk about it? Lucy wasn’t sure. Just thinking about it made her edgy and nervous. “I’m sure you’ve read about it in the newspapers,” she hedged.
“But that’s not the story I want to hear.” Cecily’s smile softened slightly. “There’s no hurry. Tell me what you feel comfortable with, or don’t tell me anything at all. I want you to set the pace for these sessions.”
Sessions. Plural.
Lucy’s stomach turned over at the idea of repeated visits to the psychiatrist’s office. One was bad enough. She had a feeling that despite Cecily’s friendly demeanor, she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d learned far more than Lucy wanted to tell.
JACKSON HAD NEVER BEEN the fastest guy at reading other people’s moods, but even he could tell that something was bothering Lucy. He’d waited half the morning for her phone call, and when it finally came she’d seemed strangely tense. Now that they were together, he was absolutely certain something was wrong.
Instead of the fluid movements and unflappable focus he’d grown used to over the past five days, she seemed disjointed and distracted. She’d put up no argument over taking his truck instead of her car. She’d been sitting silently for blocks, staring out the window at nothing, and when he spoke, she jumped as if she’d forgotten he was there.
By the time he drove halfway across t
own, he realized the day would be a complete waste of time if she didn’t snap out of it. Besides, he hated seeing her like this. He liked her energy and resolute determination. He’d been touched more than once by her compassion, and her commitment to finding Angel and setting his world right felt almost personal at times—and that had kept him going.
When he saw a sign announcing a city park up ahead, he pulled off the street and found a shady place to park. The rain had stopped and the sun peeked out from behind innocent-looking clouds, so he figured they were safe—at least for a few minutes.
Lucy didn’t even seem to notice they’d stopped until he opened his door to get out. Finally pulling herself out of her daze, she managed a fair imitation of a scowl. “What are you doing?”
“Going for a walk.” He jumped to the pavement and pocketed his keys. “Come with me.”
Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “You want to take a walk? Now?”
“Right now. Come on and keep me company.” When she didn’t move, he shut his door, crossed in front of the truck and opened hers. “Come on,” he said again. “You’ve been calling the shots for days. Now it’s my turn.”
Still obviously confused, she got out of the truck. But when he took her hand and tugged her toward the walking path that curved in and out of the trees, she followed without argument. He set an easy pace and walked for a while in silence, waiting for Lucy to say something that might explain her mood.
She left her hand in his, but she seemed so far away he was pretty sure it wasn’t a conscious decision. He liked the feel of their fingers laced together—maybe a little too much—but he didn’t let go or pull away. And when they’d walked for a while and she still hadn’t spoken, he knew he was going to have to take the reins himself.
Knowing she wouldn’t be happy, he drew her off the path toward a bench where she finally seemed to return to the moment. “Where are we going now?”
“Right here.” He brushed raindrops from the seat, motioned for her to sit, then sank down beside her. It felt oddly natural to be here with her, but he tried not to think about that.
“Now you want to sit?”
“Sure.” He ignored the moisture soaking into his jeans and concentrated on her eyes. They were pretty eyes. Soft and dark and compelling, and he suddenly wanted to understand all the secrets they held. But he told himself to be satisfied with one. “What I really want is to find out what’s eating at you.”
Her gaze shot to his, but at least he had her attention. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, come on, Lucy. You’re a terrific cop, but you aren’t exactly a world-class actress. Something’s chewing on you, so let’s talk about it.”
She pulled back sharply, and he could see a denial forming on her lips.
“Don’t insult me by saying there’s nothing wrong,” he warned. “I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I know a worried woman when I see one.”
“I—” She cut herself off with a thin smile and stood, as if sitting beside him compromised her in some way. A light breeze stirred the leaves overhead and released a shower of moisture. She shivered in spite of the heat and wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s nothing to do with the case.”
“I never thought it was.” And, strangely, he hadn’t.
Her gaze slid toward him, but she didn’t actually make eye contact. “It’s personal.”
“I kinda figured that, too.” Instinct tried nudging him to his feet, and the urge to help her made him want to pull her into his arms. After all, he reasoned, that’s what you did when a friend was hurting. But since there was nothing personal between them, he made himself stay right where he was. “How about we don’t think of you as a cop working on a case,” he said. “How about you just be Lucy for the next few minutes and I’ll just be Jackson. Friends. I don’t know how it works in your world, but in mine friends talk about things and even help each other from time to time.”
Her gaze met his, and the mixture of irritation and amusement at the lines he’d stolen from her lifted his spirits considerably.
But she still couldn’t seem to make herself speak.
“So what is it?” he prodded. “Trouble at home? Trouble at work? Trouble with the plumber?” Hoping to win a smile, he purposely deepened his drawl. “You might want to tell me, ma’am. I’ve been told I have quite an imagination, and I could get to thinking up all sorts of bad stuff if you leave me on my own.”
She did smile, but it was a token gesture—the merest curve of a lip that didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes.
“I know you mean well, but I really can’t. It’s—” Her gaze faltered and she took a deep breath. “Look, Jackson, I appreciate the offer, but I really can’t talk about it.”
The pain in her eyes pulled him to his feet. “It’s more than an offer, Lucy. I know it’s probably wrong a million ways from Sunday, but I think you and I could be friends under other circumstances.” He decided to take a chance and admit something he’d hardly let himself think about. “Truth is, if we’d met under other circumstances, I’d be interested in seeing if we could be more than friends.” He grinned and added, “You not being a troll and all.”
She laughed, just as he’d hoped she would. “You are a charmer.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her, but his arms itched to hold her and his heart ached from the agony he could see on her face. “It would be damn easy to care about you, Lucy. There are a dozen reasons or more why I shouldn’t, but I think I could get around them without too much trouble.”
Her smile evaporated and the shadows filled her eyes again. “Don’t do this, Jackson. I’m not who you think I am.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it? I don’t know enough about you to think anything. All I know is what I see.”
“Yeah, well, things aren’t always the way they look.”
She was shutting him down, but he had a gut feeling it wasn’t because she wanted to. He touched her chin gently and tilted her head so she had to look at him. “I’d like to think that we’ve become friends, at least.”
She moved away and put another couple of inches between them. “Please don’t. I can’t become involved with you on a personal level. Not even as friends.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re involved in a case.”
“Yeah. I am. So you can’t get involved. Hell, I can’t get involved, either. My niece is missing, and that’s all I should be thinking about. So what kind of man does it make me when I catch myself thinking about the color of your hair or the fire in your eyes?”
She didn’t speak, but she searched his face as he spoke and he thought her expression softened a little.
“Eventually, I’m going to have to leave here and go back to the ranch,” he said. “I’ll go back to spending my days thinking about horses and shoveling manure. I have no business even telling you this because even if everything else wasn’t an issue, I have nothing to offer you. No home of my own, and a doubtful future. Thanks to Holden, the ranch is in such big trouble I’m not even sure I can save it.”
He was on a roll now, saying things he hadn’t even allowed himself to think. “I can’t make promises. I shouldn’t feel a damn thing for you, but here I am. I want to take you into my arms and make the world right for you when I can’t even make it right for myself. So I understand all about why you shouldn’t get involved with me, but do you really think I asked for this?”
To his surprise, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and her eyes grew suspiciously bright. “No. I guess you probably didn’t.”
He moved closer, willing her not to pull away again. When she didn’t, he let himself brush a stray piece of hair from her cheek and his fingertips burned where they touched her skin. “It’s a fine mess we’re in,” he said softly.
“Yes.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“I’m not sure I know the
way out.”
Her gaze dropped to her fingers. “I’m almost positive I don’t.”
“So what are we going to do about it?”
She lifted her gaze again, and her smile grew a little stronger. “I have absolutely no idea.”
He let his fingers slide from her cheek to her chin. “Well, at least we’re on the same page.” Taking a huge chance, he leaned closer and touched his lips to hers—softly, in case it was too much for her.
Without warning, heat and need exploded together inside him, and he pulled away quickly. Even if it wasn’t too much for Lucy, it just might be too much for him. He’d been looking for a soft place to fall, but he’d found a whole lot more.
Grinning sheepishly, he leaned back against the rain-wet park bench. “If I do that very often, Wiley’s going to have one helluva time getting me back in the horse dung.”
Lucy actually worked up an impish smile. “There you go, sweet-talking me again. I don’t think I’ve ever been compared to horse dung before.”
With a relieved laugh, he drew her into his arms and brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Lucy, there’s one thing I can say with complete honesty. There is absolutely no similarity between you and horse dung.” He chanced one more light kiss on her lips and decided he’d pushed enough for one day. “You don’t have to tell me what’s on your mind, but when you’re ready, I’m here.”
He felt a sigh leave her body. “Thank you.”
“If looking for Angel is too much today—”
She cut him off before he could finish. “Don’t even say it. No matter what else is happening, Angel comes first.” She squared her shoulders and seemed to pull herself together in front of his eyes. “Angel is not going to suffer because of me. It’s not her fault.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Of course I’m sure.” She pulled away gently and dragged him to his feet with her. “Besides, if we stay here any longer, you might flatter me with some more of that sweet talk. I’m not sure I can take it.”