"Dad also told us that Sarah called him the night she was killed," Sloan continued. "And, for the record, he didn't withhold this from us. Dad wasn't home when Sarah called. Mom answered the phone and she didn't tell him about it until this morning when they got into an argument."
Zane paused. "Did Sarah happen to say anything to Mom that we can use in the investigation?"
"Nothing. Dad thinks that Sarah just wanted to talk to him and try to make sense of what happened to her mother."
"You might want to make a point to see Mom and Dad again," Zane suggested.
Sloan didn't like the sound of that and he didn't bother to suppress a groan. "Why?"
Zane's deep breath let Sloan know that he wasn't going to like what was coming. "I've requested that Cole come down to assist you."
Cole. Their half brother.
His father's "love child."
Man, Sloan hated that expression, because Cole's birth certainly hadn't created much love in the McKinney family. Even though Cole was now a grown man—and a Texas Ranger at that—he was also a proverbial thorn in the family's side.
A walking, talking reminder of his father's indiscretions.
"Let Mom know that Cole is coming," Zane continued. "Try to brace her for it."
"Nothing will brace her for that." Carley moved again, snaring Sloan's attention. With a file folder in her hand, she sank back down in the chair behind her desk. "Wasn't there anyone other than Cole who you could bring in?"
"Not really. He's a tracker—the best, from what I've been told—and I need someone to go through the woods to look for evidence."
That evidence included the bullet that'd taken a chunk out of Carley's ribs. Yes, it was important to find that. Because that bullet might also lead them to the killer.
"You got my e-mail about the shot someone fired into the sheriff's office at one o'clock this morning?" Sloan asked.
"I did. Suffice it to say it was a surprise. You think it's related to Sarah Wallace's murder?"
"I don't know. Carley thinks maybe the culprit thought you'd stored evidence in the sheriff's office and that he or she was after it."
"Carley?" Zane repeated.
"Yeah, Carley. Why do you ask?"
"I don't think I've ever heard you say her name without adding some profanity. By the way, I apologize for putting you into a situation with her. I know you can't stand the sight of each other—"
"We're working out our differences. Carley's a professional, Zane. She's not going to let bad blood get in the way of finding the killer."
Zane's silence lasted several long moments. "Just how closely are you working with her?"
Sloan's silence lasted a bit, as well. "Not as closely as you seem to think."
"Don't get your boxer shorts in a twist. Remember, I fell in love with Anna and became an engaged man while working on this case. It sounds a little clichéd, but there's something about murder to make a man remember just how precious and short life can be."
That was all well and good, but Sloan didn't want Zane thinking that he wasn't giving this case everything he could possibly give it. "I'm not sleeping with Carley, if that's what you're implying."
"I didn't think you were sleeping with her. You haven't been back in town long enough. Even you don't work that fast, little brother."
"Ha-ha." But even the fake laugh felt good. It'd been too long since he'd had a brotherly conversation with Zane. It was too sappy to admit to his brother that he'd missed him, but Sloan figured Zane had already guessed it.
Heck, maybe Zane had missed him, too.
"I'll give you a heads-up before Cole arrives," Zane continued.
"Thanks." Sloan hesitated before he dived right into what he needed to say next. "One more thing—a surveillance camera recorded the two shots that were fired last night. I sent the disk and the bullet I retrieved to the lab. I wondered if you'd be willing to use your rank and connections to rush it through?"
Zane hesitated. "You're asking me for a favor?"
"Yeah. Don't sound so surprised."
"I'm surprised because you've never asked."
And he wouldn't have this time if it hadn't involved Carley. Sloan kept that to himself.
"I'll check on the disk and the bullet," Zane promised. "You keep things under control there. Do everything you can to find me some evidence I can use."
Sloan assured him that he would and he hung up with the intention of calling Carley so he could chew her out. However, something caught his eye. Some movement deep within the woods behind the sheriff's office.
A shadow.
But a shadow of what?
He moved closer to the window, trying to pick through the darkness so he could decide if it was some bird or another animal that'd ruffled a tree branch. Unfortunately he couldn't tell.
And he couldn't take a chance.
If the shooter had returned, it wouldn't take much to succeed in gunning down Carley.
Sloan grabbed his phone, shoved it into his pocket and strapped on his holster while practically racing out the door. He didn't even bother locking it.
Because he knew the back entrance of the inn would be a semishortcut, he headed in that direction. Once outside, he picked up speed. He probably hadn't sprinted like this since his cross-country days at Justice High.
Sloan skirted the edge of the woods, slapping aside low-hanging branches and hurdling over a pair of fire-ant beds. Thankfully there was a hunter's moon to help him see, so he was able to keep watch of his surroundings to make sure he wasn't about to be ambushed.
The night hadn't cooled the air much, and he quickly worked up a sweat. He also worked up a hefty amount of concern. For Carley. He prayed that she was all right. One way or another, he would get to her in time and stop that shadowy figure from finishing what he or she had started almost a week ago.
Sloan turned, intending to race toward the back door of the sheriff's office, but turning was as far as he got.
Something slammed into him. Hard.
But Sloan soon realized it wasn't something. It was someone.
And that someone was Carley.
Suddenly his arms were filled with her, and he held on to keep them both from falling. It didn't help. The impact sent them off balance just enough and, despite his efforts, they smacked into the side of the building.
He immediately thought of her injuries and he tried to take the brunt of the impact. Sloan was reasonably sure he succeeded, because he hit the rough brick exterior hard enough to see stars.
Big ones.
"Are you hurt?" he immediately demanded.
"Sloan?" she questioned in between loud gusts of breath. "Mercy, you scared the daylights out of me."
"Well, this didn't do much to steady my heart either. Are you hurt?" he repeated.
She paused a moment as if taking inventory and shook her head. "I think I'm okay." Carley looked up at him, and the moonlight was very generous. He had no trouble seeing her face and the puzzled expression on it. "What are you doing out here this time of night?"
"I was watching you from the window in my room," Sloan heard himself say and actually winced. He couldn't have sounded any creepier if he'd tried.
Judging from the way Carley's mouth dropped open, she felt the same way. "You were what?"
"I was on the phone with Zane and I just happened to look out the window and I saw you. And I thought I saw something else."
Because Sloan still had hold of her, he felt her muscles tighten to knots. The puzzlement and surprise were replaced by concern and maybe even fear. "What did you see?"
"A shadow or something."
She relaxed as quickly as she'd tensed. "Yes. I saw that, too. It was the cats again." Carley pushed them away from the building and would have pushed herself from him if Sloan hadn't held on.
"You noticed the cats," he clarified. It didn't take him long to guess why that was, and that realization caused the adrenaline and the anger to surge through him. "You were setting a trap, u
sing yourself as bait."
Her chin came up. "I was trying to catch a killer."
"How? By getting murdered?"
"No. Of course not. I had the surveillance camera repaired this afternoon and I was watching everything on the monitor. If anyone had stepped out of those woods—"
"Hell's bells! Cameras and monitors don't stop bullets," he practically shouted.
"But a Kevlar vest will." Carley patted her chest to indicate she was wearing such a protective garment beneath her shirt.
Sloan patted her forehead. "But it won't stop a bullet aimed here. Sheez, Carley. Have you lost your mind? You could have been killed."
He heard the raw emotion in his voice, and for some stupid reason he couldn't stop it. Sloan also couldn't make himself shut up. He continued his rant.
"You're not frickin' bulletproof," he snarled. "And I don't want you taking those kinds of idiotic chances again, understand?"
Probably because she didn't like his order—and it was an order—she stepped to the side. Away from him. At least it would have been away from him if Sloan hadn't stepped to the side at the same time. Somehow it put them even closer, though they were already touching practically from head to toe. Heck, he still had his arms around her.
And he suddenly became very aware of that.
Well, his body became aware of it first. His mind didn't take too long to catch up. Not good. No part of him was thinking clearly when it came to Carley. For some reason, she had his hormonal number.
Wasn't this been exactly what he'd been fantasizing about all afternoon? Carley and her hot mouth?
She stared at him as if she were waiting to figure out what he was about to say or do. Sloan was wondering the same thing himself.
The eye contact made the air change between them. It was hotter. A lot hotter. It created a steamy fog in his brain. Something he definitely didn't need. Because he knew he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.
Knowing it, however, didn't stop him.
He lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers.
Chapter Six
Carley melted.
There was no other word for it. Her entire body seemed to turn to warm liquid. And that intense reaction was just from the briefest touch of Sloan's mouth. Which made her wonder—what would a real kiss do to her?
She fought her way through the melting, mind-numbing effect and she soon realized that this should not be happening. No way.
"We can't," she managed to say. She untangled herself from his arms and she stepped back. Way back. Putting as much space between them as she could manage.
"You're right," he mumbled. And then he cursed. "I should just find a rock and hit myself in the head with it."
All right. It was time to defuse this. It'd already gone miles too far. "Why would you want to hit yourself? That wasn't even a kiss."
He stared at her. "Then what was it?"
"An accident."
"An accident," he repeated. Sloan repeated it again under his breath. "What—our mouths just sort of bumped into each other?"
"Yes."
More staring. Sloan added an eye roll. "Good grief, you're stubborn."
"And you're not?" She returned that eye roll and jabbed her index finger against his chest. "Look, I'm doing us both a favor here, because kissing is definitely a no-no. It's like my purple bra. I don't want the people here to think of me that way and I'm sure you feel the same."
No more eye rolls, but the staring continued and intensified. "Say what?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
"Unfortunately I think I do." He snagged her by the shoulders, forcing eye contact. "Carley, maybe this is a good time to remind you that you have nothing to prove to me or to this town. The city council hired you because you were qualified."
Oh. He'd opened this can of worms.
"They hired me because there wasn't anyone else who wanted the job. Lousy pay, long hours and an outdated office and equipment. Not exactly an enticement to most lawmen. In fact, it was so bad that they called me while I was working at the Department of Public Safety and asked if I'd be willing to come back to town to help them out temporarily." She took a deep breath. "There. I've said it. I got the job because I had absolutely no competition. And even then it wasn't a unanimous appointment by city council."
"Only because you're a woman." He took a deep breath, mimicking hers. "There, I've said it."
Carley felt that melting feeling again and realized it was as dangerous as a killer's bullet. It could distract them at a time when they needed to be fully focused.
She stepped away again but made the mistake of raking her side against the bricks. Normally that wouldn't have hurt, but the movement tugged at her bandages. The adhesive had obviously shifted again, and it was actually hurting.
Carley tried her best to keep any and all reactions from Sloan. But she failed.
"You're in pain," he informed her.
"A little." She decided it was a good time to head to her apartment. "It'll pass."
Sloan fell in step right alongside her. But that wasn't all he did. He positioned himself so that he was closer to the woods. In other words, he was placing himself between her and a potential gunman.
"You don't have to do this," she complained.
"But I do. I'm the boss, remember? If you were in charge, you'd be walking where I am."
"Right." Though it would no doubt take a massive argument for that to happen. Sloan was pigheaded and cocky, but he was also a protective male. Carley hadn't thought she would ever feel this way, but for once she was glad he was.
"You didn't argue about our positions," Sloan quickly pointed out.
"No. I've decided I'll use all the help I can get."
A slight sound had her stopping. She stood there frozen until she spotted the owl perched on a live oak limb.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Because her adrenaline was through the roof, Carley didn't even attempt to lie. "I'm scared. And I know I shouldn't be admitting that to you, but I can't help myself."
"Why shouldn't you admit it to me?" But he didn't wait for her to answer. "Oh, it's another of those purple-bra analogies, huh? People won't respect you if they know you're afraid of real honest-to-goodness danger. Except there's no basis for an argument this time. You have a right to be scared."
"No, I don't. I'm a sheriff and I'm trained to catch bad guys—"
"Someone tried to kill you, less than a week ago and then again just last night. Cops are human, Carley, and getting past something like that takes time and long talks with friends who'll understand."
"Is that what we are—friends?" Carley made certain that she sounded skeptical.
"Well, not really. But we're comrades in the same proverbial boat." They reached the back of the inn, and he opened the door. Or, rather, he tried to and realized it was locked. She extracted her keys, opened it herself, and Sloan practically pushed her inside. "I've got two shoulders, and both of them are yours anytime you need them."
It was a very tempting offer. An offer Carley had no intention of accepting. "I want to feel safe again. I just want this to be over."
"I know. And it will be. Soon."
She started up the stairs toward her apartment. Again, he followed. Again she didn't stop him. That caused her to silently curse. She had to put an end to this. She could not continue to rely on Sloan McKinney and his rather ample shoulders.
"How did you get past being shot?" she asked, glancing behind her at him.
"I did what you're doing. I threw myself into the job. I focused on the things I could control."
"Now that's a laugh. I'm not sure I can control anything." She stopped outside her door but didn't open it. "There's a killer out there, Sloan. Someone we both know. Someone who knows me bone-deep. Someone who knows how to come after me. And why? Because I may have seen something the night Sarah was killed. Trust me, other than dark pants and boots, I didn't. I've gone over every detail a million time
s and I honestly don't know who tried to kill me."
He looked as if he were having some kind of argument with himself. Probably was. Because he sighed heavily and reached for her.
Carley tried to dodge that reach, but he slid his arm around her and eased her closer. Not so they were touching, though. And Carley definitely didn't put her head on his shoulder.
Still…
"This isn't right," she whispered.
"It's innocent."
"It's intimate. Full-blown sex would be less intimate than this."
Sloan chuckled. "Obviously you've never had great full-blown sex."
Carley couldn't help it. She laughed, too. Unfortunately it made her side hurt. "If that was an invitation, I'm not accepting."
"Good. Because you're no in shape for sex, great or otherwise. Want me to check that bandage for you?"
"No, thanks. One look at my purple bra is all you're going to get."
She waited for the humor, maybe another laugh. But it didn't happen. There was no humor in his eyes. Only deep concern.
"You can't play sitting duck again, understand?" he asked. "We're a team, and whatever we do with this case we do it together. It's the only way I can make sure I keep you safe."
That brought her chin up a little. It was a knee-jerk reaction. "I could counter that with it's not your job to keep me safe."
"But it is." Sloan shook his head and mumbled something about finding another rock to hit himself in the head. "It's what I'd do for anyone who works for me."
Okay. So it wasn't personal. Thank goodness.
Why didn't that make her feel better?
"Get some rest," he insisted, testing her doorknob. He frowned when he realized it wasn't locked. "Tomorrow morning, we start examining Lou Ann's papers and notes. We'll need to go through each page with a fine-tooth comb."
Her mood brightened immediately. "I'm finally going to get to see them?"
"You'll not only see them, you'll be sick of them before this is over."
"I doubt it. It could break this case wide-open." Carley gave that some thought. "We'll go over them together so we can make sure you don't misinterpret anything."
Trace Evidence in Tarrant... Page 5