by Jodi Thomas
“Who knows?” he snapped. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“Stop yelling at me,” she yelled. “I’ll figure this out.” She moved to the door. “Jess.” She tapped. “Can you take my client somewhere to clean up and cool off? If he gets any harder to talk to, I may have to clobber him with my purse.”
Jess opened the unlocked door. “He can go anywhere he wants as long as he doesn’t leave the building. Sheriff said she wanted a few words with him. They should have been here by now. I guess the blizzard slowed them down a bit.”
“Blizzard?” Gabe asked.
“Yeah, it’s coming down like crazy. You folks might want to stay here tonight. We got lots of empty cells.”
“No thanks,” Gabe and Elizabeth said at once.
Gabe pushed past them both and moved down the hallway to a restroom. He washed some of the blood off his hands and neck where Reagan had rested her head against his chest, but he could still smell it. A few hours ago, he’d walked over thinking he’d beat the snow back home, but now he was stranded without his coat, and his supper was probably spilled somewhere along the creek bed.
A few hours ago he’d only been thinking of walking through the cold and getting a meal. He’d worked hard all day and needed the fresh air to clear his mind and his thoughts of Elizabeth. He’d even noticed he’d penciled her image on one of the layouts for a graphic novel he was working on.
Gabe told himself he’d only see her once a week. One time, one kiss if she’d allow it. That was all he could hope for. But deep down he knew he’d circle by the office every time he walked into town. Not to check his mail, but to see if her lights were on. He liked to stand in the shadows of the courthouse and watch her turn off the lights in her office. Even with her drapes closed, he could see a few tiny pinpoints of light from her nightlight. He knew she was in there, sleeping. He knew she was safe.
Most nights it was enough just to know she was there.
Gabe ran his fingers through his hair, shaking away dried mud. He stared at himself in the restroom mirror. Little of the soldier he’d been five years ago looked back at him now. He’d loved being Gabe Wiseman. He’d traded names with the real Wiseman one night in boot camp. Wiseman was sneaking out, planning to get high. The guy was so messed up on drugs, he had trouble remembering he was in the army. The two Gabriels looked so much alike people were always getting them mixed up, so Wiseman thought it would be fun to wear Leary’s uniform on his outings just in case he was caught. He’d said simply, “I’m from a long line of dead heroes. If I got busted, it’d make the papers, but with you, Leary, no one would care.”
Gabe hadn’t liked the idea, but Wiseman offered the use of his car as a bribe and swore he’d never be caught. At eighteen, the car seemed worth the risk.
Only Wiseman didn’t get busted. He got dead three nights before they were to graduate and ship out. The next morning when the drill sergeant woke Gabe up, he kept calling him Private Wiseman. Gabe buried his past in the coffin with his uniform and picked up his new name along with the advantages that came with it. He’d been young and dreamed of being a hero. Switching names gave him the chance.
Doors began to open for him. He was now the son, the grandson, the great-grandson of warriors, not like Gabe Leary, the son of a worthless, lazy drunk who farmed just enough to pay the bills and buy more booze.
So Gabe kept the name and his mouth closed. No one noticed. The day after he buried his friend, he climbed on a plane and flew to one of the best training camps in the country, a program Wiseman’s name had gotten him into. The only thing in his pack from his past were a dozen comic books and a sketchpad. At the time he thought he’d said good-bye to the name Leary forever, but one bomb blew him all the way back home.
Gabe squared his shoulders. Because of what had happened tonight, he was about to have to talk to people. People who would judge him as a Leary. They’d know nothing of the soldier he’d been, the hero. In this small town, he’d never be anything but the son of a drunk.
He walked out of the restroom and down the hallway to a large room full of desks.
Elizabeth handed him a cup of coffee. “Jess says we can wait in Alex’s office. By the way, how’d you know where to find me?”
“Jess told me I might want to call my lawyer. When I said I didn’t have your number on me, he told me you were out at the ranch. Apparently, he’d already called there looking for Hank and had a visit with one of the aunts.”
She laughed. “That’s a small town for you. How’d you stay out of the loop for so long?”
He hesitated. He’d spent five years avoiding the people of Harmony. Dreading how they’d treat him. “Just lucky, I guess,” he lied. “Do we have to wait? I’d just as soon go.”
Elizabeth seemed to understand. “It’s all right. I’m here with you.”
“As my lawyer?”
“As your friend.” She hesitated, then added, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to charge you for the consultation before they released you.”
“What consultation? The only advice I remember was on redecorating the holding cell.”
“I know,” she admitted. “But I thought about your problem all the way into town. That should count. I’ll bill you fifty dollars for the half hour I spent scraping off my car and getting here.”
Gabe glared at her. “Lucky you didn’t stop to change clothes or I’d owe double.”
He followed her into the sheriff’s office and sat down at a round table by a long row of windows. Gabe could see snow coming down hard. “I walked in tonight,” he said more to himself than her. “Know of a place where I can rent a room tonight and maybe get a meal? Someplace quiet with a shower and a bed. I don’t like being around people.”
“I figured that out already. I’m surprised you didn’t take off out the back door a few minutes ago.”
“I thought about it,” he admitted.
“Why didn’t you?”
“No coat. Snowing. You.” Smiling, he added, “Not necessarily in that order.”
She pulled out her cell and dialed a number. “You got money?” she asked as she waited.
“I got money,” he answered.
She looked away. Someone on the other end must have picked up. “Martha Q,” she said into the phone. “Can you put someone up for the night? It’s an emergency.”
She listened for a minute and then added, “I’ll bring him over in a while. I’m glad I didn’t wake you.”
As he watched Elizabeth click her phone closed, the silence of the room ended. Three people hurried into the office—Alexandra McAllen, the sheriff he’d heard a hundred times from his place outside her window and met once with a gun between them; Hank Matheson, Harmony’s fire chief; and an old man who had to be Jeremiah Truman.
Gabe stood and managed a nod at their greeting. First the old man thanked him for saving Reagan and gave a report about how she was doing. “She’s all I got in this world, son.” Jeremiah’s voice cracked slightly. “If you ever need anything . . . anything, I’m in your debt.”
Gabe wished he could have told the old guy that if it hadn’t been for him fixing his father’s junker of a car five years ago so his father could get him out of the hospital, Gabe would be dead.
Jeremiah took his hand, not shaking, just gripping it. When they stared at one another, Gabe thought he saw the image of a warrior in the old guy’s eyes and wondered if Jeremiah saw it in his.
Then Hank insisted on taking the old guy home and the moment was gone. Jeremiah shuffled out as Hank said good-bye to Gabe, kissed Alex on the cheek, and nodded for Liz to follow him out.
Suddenly, Gabe was alone with the sheriff.
“Please, Mr. Leary,” she began. “Sit down. I’d like to go over the details just for the report. It won’t take a minute.”
He followed orders.
“Just tell me in your own words what happened.”
“I always go by for a takeout meal from the diner on Wednesdays,” he began. “I like to
walk over even when it’s cold. Reagan must have thought she’d meet me at the trees near the old creek.”
“Has she done that before?”
“Yes.”
“Go on, Mr. Leary.”
“I like to follow the creek bed into town. It’s off the streets and I run into fewer people.”
“You don’t like people?” she asked.
“It’s not that,” he lied. “I just like being alone. I was about to climb up the incline to the back lot of the Blue Moon when I spotted her lying real still. For a second, I thought she was dead, but when I lifted her head, I felt the warm blood. I couldn’t carry her with my bad leg, so I dragged her atop my coat into the café. I’d just started emergency aid when you came in.”
He met her stare. Guessing what she was going to ask him.
“How’d you know I wouldn’t shoot you?”
“I saw it. Nervous people fire by accident, but your hand was steady. I saw your eyes. You don’t have what it takes, Sheriff, to kill an unarmed man.”
She leaned forward. “You were armed. Jess found the gun strapped to your leg.”
Gabe nodded. “But you didn’t know that, and I never would have drawn on you.” He knew he remembered enough of his training that he could have disarmed her, or shot her before she could fire, but those days were long past.
“Then why do you wear a gun, Mr. Leary, if you wouldn’t have drawn it?”
He looked away, thinking of how to answer the question. He hated lying, but he wasn’t sure she’d understand the truth. “It feels right. I feel complete knowing it’s there.” He turned to meet her gaze. “I need to be prepared. Maybe nothing will ever happen in my lifetime, but if it does, I need to believe I’m ready.”
“And if you draw your gun?” she asked.
“I’ll fire if I have to.”
He saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes. Something terrible had happened in her life. Something violent. Maybe she needed to always be prepared, just like him.
She finally leaned back. “Is the gun registered?”
“No.”
She didn’t look surprised. “I suppose if I asked you to it would ...”
“Fall in the lake,” they both said at once.
Alex smiled, knowing that trying to get all Texans to register all their guns was like trying to catch fleas with a bass fishing net. “Carry it on your land, but leave it at home when you come to town.”
He didn’t bother to nod, guessing they both knew he wouldn’t follow her order.
She offered her hand. “I was wrong. I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mr. Leary. You saved a girl’s life by acting as fast as you did. Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.” He took her hand. “She’s my friend.”
Alex’s grip was strong. “I hope you’ll count me among your friends after tonight.”
He finally smiled. “I’ll do that.”
Without another word, he walked out of the office and found Elizabeth waiting in her tiny little sports car.
Gabe leaned against her door when she rolled down the window. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t be safer walking.”
“Get in,” she said. “It’s only a few blocks. How many light poles can I hit between here and there?”
Gabe circled the car and climbed in, favoring his bad leg as he crammed it into the car. She took off before he closed the door, sliding from one side of the street to the other.
Giggling, she said, “I’ve never gone down to lockup and gotten a client out before. I feel like a real lawyer.”
“You didn’t get me out. I didn’t do anything. They just released me.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m the best lawyer. Don’t forget, you used your one call to phone me tonight.”
Gabe laughed. “You’re the only lawyer I know. Hell, now your mom’s house is the only number I know.”
Liz slid into the driveway of the Winter’s Inn Bed-and-Breakfast.
Gabe leaned low to stare up at the old two-story mansion. “You’ve got to be kidding. You booked me a room here?”
She ignored him as she cut the engine, climbed from the car, and headed toward the porch. He had no choice but to follow.
Ten minutes later, he’d stripped off his muddy clothes and stepped into a hot shower, ignoring the funny little bottles lined up along every surface in the bathroom and the hand towels twisted to resemble monkeys hanging from the racks. The shower felt great. He hadn’t realized how bone cold he’d been. He washed his hair and beard, then stood letting the steamy downpour ease his leg pain for a while before turning off the water. He took a deep breath and slid the shower door open in a now-foggy room.
Martha Q stood at the door, her arms loaded down with clothes.
Gabe grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him. He wasn’t shy, and from the way she looked at him, she wasn’t embarrassed about interrupting either.
“I brought you some clothes. You should find something that will fit. I liked my husbands in all different sizes, kept me from getting them mixed up.” She giggled. “There’s pajamas on your bed if you sleep in them.”
“I don’t,” he said as he took the clothes from her. “You always walk in on your guests?”
“I didn’t figure you’d mind. You didn’t lock the door.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said as he watched her waddle out.
“When you’re decent,” she yelled, “I’ve got sandwiches in the kitchen for you and Liz.”
“I’ll be right down.” He closed the door, locked it, and dried off, still smiling at the woman. He might not be modest, but she was certainly bold. He picked out a white T-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans that almost fit him. The crazy lady had thought of socks, but forgot underwear. She’d guessed his size well, but after all, the old girl had taken a full look at him. He wasn’t sure Elizabeth would have recommended the place if she knew how nuts Martha Q was.
When he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, Elizabeth looked up at him and blushed. “Martha Q told me she saw your scar.” Liz giggled. “Along with everything else. She said you’re one fine-looking man.”
“Where is the old witch?” he mumbled.
“Gone to bed, but she left us food.” She moved away from the table to reveal a feast of sweets, sandwiches, and fruit.
Gabe headed straight to Liz and pulled her against him. “I’m hungry for the taste of something else first, if you’ve no objection.” His lips brushed hers lightly, waiting for an invitation. “Think you could forget I’m your client long enough to kiss me?” The tip of his tongue slid along her upper lip.
She made a little squeal of surprise before leaning into him. He tasted strawberries on her tongue and pulled away. “Food,” he whispered, “then more of you.”
They sat at the tiny kitchen table and began to eat. Their chairs were turned at an angle to each other, and he didn’t miss the way their legs brushed as they filled their plates.
He’d take a bite of something, then offer her one. She concentrated on the bowl of strawberries, dipping each in powdered sugar before eating. She’d start to offer him a bite, then pull it away just before he tasted it and pop the treat into her mouth. The third time she did it, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, kissing her as he tasted the fruit.
When he finished, she had powdered sugar outlining her lips.
“You’re the best-tasting lawyer I’ve ever had,” he teased.
“You tasted a lot, have you?” She giggled.
“No, they’re not usually on the menu.” He dipped a strawberry and fed it to her.
The night seemed enchanted. For once, she said she didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to unwind from a dinner at her mother’s she called an inquisition. Gabe felt like he’d already done more talking in one night than he usually did in a month. Memories threatened to haunt him, and the only cure seemed to be staying close to Elizabeth tonight.
They were in a strange house in a storm that seemed to
block all the world out. They cleaned up the kitchen, refilled their wineglasses, and moved around the downstairs looking at all the treasures Martha Q had collected over her life.
Finally, they ended up on the couch in what Martha Q called the parlor. Gabe lit a fire in the old stone fireplace, and Elizabeth curled up next to him so they could share a quilt. She said the fire reminded her of Christmases at her family’s ranch where she grew up.
He listened, only needing to ask a question now and then to keep her talking. She told him of her childhood and her brother and sister. She told him of a life that sounded like a fairy tale compared to his childhood only a few miles away. Except for her father dying, Elizabeth Matheson sounded like a child who got everything she wanted. Hell, Gabe thought, she even got a pony. She had a mother who was a real artist and an older brother and sister to watch over her and enough of her own money by the time she got out of high school to buy a sports car.
He had trouble picturing her life, but it was nice to listen. Finally, she slowed and nestled closer for warmth. He wrapped his arm around her and watched her fall asleep, thinking how could something so beautiful be so close to him.
Watching out the window, he thought he saw a blue Mustang rolling slowly down the icy street, but with the falling snow, he couldn’t be sure. Any car out tonight would be in the gutter in no time.
Instinct, bred in years of training, told him seeing the Mustang once parked by Liz’s office was nothing, but twice might mean someone was watching him. Gabe pushed the idea aside. No one was watching him. He was simply being paranoid.
In the still night air, he heard the whisper of the clock in the tower on the town square chime the hour. No one noticed the clock during the day, but at night it seemed a lonely sound drifting in the air, stealing silence.
Wrapped in one another and a few handmade quilts, he listened to their breath keep time and finally fell asleep.
For tonight . . . for this one night . . . he wasn’t alone.
Chapter 20
THURSDAY, 9:00 P.M.