by Diana Palmer
They talked about the changes in the neighborhood on the way. It wasn’t until he pulled into her drive that she realized she hadn’t told him where she lived.
“It’s a small town,” was his comment when she mentioned this fact. “Besides, it’s my job as a cop to know everyone’s business.”
“Hmm, maybe Lily Mae missed her calling. Perhaps I should mention the police department the next time I see her.”
Rafe held up both hands. “I give,” he declared. “Lily Mae would have the office running a lonely hearts club before the year was out. She’s always trying to match people up.”
“Yeah? Who has she chosen for you?” She led the way into the house and toward the kitchen.
He gave a snort of derision. “I keep a low profile where women are concerned.”
Tracy studied him. She sensed a loneliness that matched her own. “Why would you do that? You’re darned good-looking. The gals in the county must be real miffed if you never look at them.”
“I never said I didn’t look.” His smile wasn’t reflected in his eyes. “Marriage doesn’t seem to work out. It’s hard enough when you know a person, but someone like me…Who knows what my background is? I may be the son of the Son of Sam.”
“You’re not a killer,” she told him sternly. “There’s no such thing as bad blood. You’re what you make of yourself.”
“Enough. My past, or lack of one, is ancient history. Tell me how you got into forensic investigation.”
“Like father, like daughter, I suppose. I spent my youth collecting old stories with him. Ancient ways interested me more than modern times. I also liked working puzzles of any kind. Put those two together. Forensic investigation is sort of like working jigsaw puzzles. You just keep moving things around until you get all the pieces to fit.”
“Someone said the bones from the res weren’t old.”
Tracy rolled her eyes, exasperated with the local grapevine. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Got any iced tea? The day is already hot.”
She checked the refrigerator. The tea pitcher was nearly full. She poured two glasses.
“Were the bones old?” he asked.
“No. My guess is they’ve been in the ground twenty or thirty years. No more.”
“How can you tell?”
“Stain penetration into the surface. Also I’d say the bones have been in a protected place. They’re in too good a condition to have been out in the open all this time.”
“Animals would have eaten them,” he suggested.
“Right. There are some fresh teeth marks, but no real damage. The bones are too old to be tasty.” She removed the packet of washers from her purse and laid them next to the sink.
“Here, let me change those washers for you,” Rafe said. He put his glass on the counter and checked the leaky faucet. “May as well do both sides. Got a screwdriver?”
“I found a box of tools under the sink.” She bent and got them out. “There’s no need. I know how to fix it.”
“The independent woman, huh?” He gave her an assessing glance. “Come on. Let me feel I have some use in the world.”
She laughed while he made sure the water was off and unscrewed the cold-water handle. He quickly and efficiently replaced the washers in both faucets.
“There,” he said upon finishing. “Just in the nick of time.” He held up the other one to show her it was worn almost through the rubber and would have started leaking soon.
“What do I owe you for this great service?”
He gestured toward the cabinets while he stored the toolbox under the sink again. “How about two of those chocolate-chip cookies I saw in there when you got the glasses?”
“Hmm, you are observant. I’d better watch what I let you see in the future.”
They chatted while she got out cookies. Rafe retrieved his glass and headed for the table. She did the same. Into this comfortable idle another presence intruded, in the form of the sheriff.
Judd came to the back door. His furious gaze met her startled one just as she turned from the counter. Iced tea slopped out onto the floor. “Judd!” she exclaimed.
Rafe went over and opened the door. “Come in, Sheriff.”
“Thanks,” Judd said laconically. He smiled coolly.
Tracy wondered if that momentary glimpse of anger had been in her imagination. “We’re having cookies. Would you like to join us?” she asked, placing the glass on the table.
“No, thanks. I gave ’em up when I outgrew my morning nap.”
“Uh-oh,” Rafe said in a loud whisper to her. “Me thinks the boss is madder than hell.”
She realized Judd was throwing out a challenge and the younger man wasn’t backing down. She wasn’t sure what to do.
Judd scowled, then turned a deadly eye on Tracy. “I came over earlier to fix the faucet. No one was home.”
“I was at the hardware store,” she explained, then frowned. She didn’t have to account to him. Irritated with herself, she used more vigor than necessary to wipe up the spilt tea.
“The faucet is fixed,” Rafe announced.
Tracy noticed his keen gaze studying Judd, as if he were judging his reaction to this news. She looked at the older lawman. He was in control. Other than the remnants of irritation at the wasted trip, no emotion showed on his lean, handsome face.
Judd glanced at the leftover coffee in the pot, then at her. “I’ll take some coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” She poured a cup, heated it in the microwave and handed it to him. When she went to the table again, Judd joined her, holding her chair for her before taking the one on her right.
“Moonlighting as a plumber?” Judd inquired of Rafe after watching the young officer down two cookies and reach for another.
Tracy drank her tea. Her appetite had fled.
“No. I was curious about the bones from the res. Tracy was telling me about forensics. See?” Rafe inquired innocently. “All in-the-line-of-duty stuff. Nothing clandestine going on.”
Tracy was both amused and appalled at his effrontery. She saw Judd give Rafe a glance from under his eyebrows that had always boded ill for Thadd when the boy did something wrong. She tried to think what she could do to head off a collision between the men.
“The res isn’t in your jurisdiction,” Judd remarked.
“Yours either, Sheriff.”
The two men locked eyes in silent combat.
“I need to go to the grocery store, then I thought I’d go out to the fair to look at the livestock,” Tracy put in hurriedly. “Thanks for fixing the leak, Rafe. Remember me to your mom next time you see her.” She stood, causing the men to rise, and urged the younger man toward the door.
Rafe grinned at her, then winked. “I’ll see you at the fair. Shall I look for you by the calf pens, say…about one?”
“Yes,” she said, practically pushing him out the door.
Men.
He left. In a minute, she heard his pickup fire up and back out of the drive. The sound of its engine faded as he drove off. She turned toward the table with a frown.
“What was that all about?” she demanded.
“What? These cookies are good. Did you make them?”
“No. Why were you rude to Rafe?”
Judd stopped concentrating on the cookie he was dunking in his coffee and stuck the rest of it in his mouth. He gave her such a falsely innocent look that it disconcerted her.
“Me? Rude?”
Their son had assumed the exact same expression when he was trying to wiggle out of trouble. Like father…
“What?” he asked, his voice suddenly deeper as if he sensed the stab of pain the thought had caused her.
“I…nothing. Just a thought.”
He studied her for a long minute. “How did Rafe happen to drop by and fix your sink?”
She explained that they’d met at the store. “I used to play with him when he was a baby. I’d entertain him while my father went through
the Rawlings family albums. It was such a long time ago, and now…now he’s a policeman. It’s hard to believe.”
“You didn’t seem to be thinking of him as a baby when you made a date for the fair,” Judd commented.
“I’m eight years older than he is.” She gave Judd a puzzled glance. “I didn’t make a date with him.”
“I’m eight years older than you,” Judd reminded her. “He said he’d meet you at the calf pens at one.”
“Oh, that. He was just riling you.” She tilted her head at a slight angle and studied her ex-husband. “Did he succeed?” she asked and wondered why she was deliberately trying to needle him.
“Hardly.” Judd took a drink of coffee, seemingly as cool as a mountain breeze, all emotion now gone.
She watched his throat work as he swallowed. Once she’d loved to kiss him there, the faint taste of salt on her tongue when she’d nibbled and licked his freshly shaved skin. She looked away.
“Well, I have to make out a grocery list,” she announced.
Judd made no effort to leave after her broad hint.
She set about the task, ignoring the man who watched her as she went through the cabinets and refrigerator for supplies. She didn’t want to get too many staples. She’d have to toss them out when she left or haul them all the way back to California with her.
“Are you going to the fair this afternoon?” he asked after a lengthy silence.
“Yes, I think so.”
“I have to drive down to Billings to check on some stolen items that have been recovered. I thought you might want to ride along. You used to like that.”
She stared at him, trying to figure out why he’d asked her. She knew he was keeping an eye on her because of the case, but was that the only reason?
The old attraction was still there, as strong as ever…maybe stronger. That could have been jealousy she’d seen in Judd’s eyes when he’d arrived and found Rafe at her kitchen table.
Surely not. Other than the lingering traces of a passion too strong to be forgotten, there was nothing between them.
A tremor of unease went through her. At thirty-six, she found she wasn’t half as sure of life and love as she’d been at nineteen.
“Well?” he muttered in a growl.
She glanced around the kitchen. “I have too much to do. I still have to clean house…and—and go to the store….”
A tumult of emotions hit her, so fast, so hard, she couldn’t figure out the individual ones. She stole a glance at Judd.
He sat like a statue at the table, the planes of his face rigid, his thoughts unreadable. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, why he’d invited her on the trip, but she didn’t.
She’d learned long ago that Judd didn’t share his deepest feelings with her. Once she’d needed him desperately. Once she’d begged him to talk to her, to help her get past the grief that ravaged her soul. He’d walked out.
It had destroyed something in her, having him turn his back on her…. She fought back the tears that burned her eyes. That had been long ago. It didn’t matter now. Their lives had separated into two diverging paths.
He nodded and stood. “Here. I brought you a timer. Set it to turn a lamp on around dusk.” He laid it on the table.
She was aware of his gaze running over her, dark, sensual, almost brooding. It made her feel tight and achy inside, and so full of longing the tears rose again. “Thanks.”
He walked out, taking his toolbox and packet of washers with him. She felt the increasing distance between them as an abyss of utter darkness, too wide to cross, as he got into his truck and left.
Judd cursed all the way to the office. Why the hell had he asked Tracy to come along with him? Insanity, pure insanity.
Or jealousy? a part of him asked.
He didn’t want to think about it. He unlocked his office and collected the inventory of the item he was to pick up. He studied the list. Truthfully, the trip could wait until Monday. Or he could send a deputy.
Hearing laughter on the street, he paused and looked out the window at a couple who’d stopped to let their two kids play. He watched them for several minutes while the emptiness inside shifted uneasily.
It was getting harder to maintain that vacuum, he admitted. Being around Tracy punched holes in his self-control.
Passion. He still wanted her. It burned in him like a steady flame, refusing to go out. Passion was all right, but a man would be a fool to get mixed up in all that emotional baggage again.
All he’d felt was an echo of male possessiveness. Seeing Rafe hanging around Tracy had stirred primitive urges he’d do better to ignore. Tracy wasn’t his. He didn’t want her to be.
He sat at his desk and went over the current cases on his agenda. There’d been a couple of car thefts, some vandalism involving spray paint, a couple of domestic-violence calls. All those were solved or under investigation.
The bones from the reservation were the biggest question mark. Winona’s vision had convinced him the case was homicide.
That led to the problem of Tracy. She was so damned independent. She didn’t want him interfering with her case.
Too bad. He was going to keep her under his watchful eye whether she liked it or not. This was his county, his people. He was responsible for them. And for her as long as she was in the area.
Darkness seemed to open within him when he thought of her leaving again. He cursed under his breath. He’d ignore the tension between them and keep his mind strictly on the law.
Restless, he checked the time and headed out the door. He’d go talk to Winona. Now there was a woman with a man’s mind—practical and sane, not running on temperament, but logic.
Yeah, he’d go talk to her. About the case.
She was concluding a deal when he parked next to the lopsided sign out front. She and the Cheyenne shook hands and laughed, then the man departed, giving a quick nod to Judd when he passed on the way to his pickup with a wheelbarrow full of junk.
“Business looks good,” he commented as he surveyed the new items in the yard.
“It is,” she agreed. “Look at this blanket.”
Judd admired the Indian blanket she held up, which was woven with a Navajo design. The tourists wouldn’t know the difference, or care if they did, he thought cynically. “Nice,” he said.
“I’m going to enter it in the fair for his wife.” She nodded toward the road as the pickup disappeared around a bend. “It’ll fetch a fair price whether it wins a ribbon or not.”
“Good.”
“You’re in a foul mood,” Winona said. “Come have some chamomile tea with honey. It’ll soothe your nerves.”
Judd followed her across the crowded yard, keeping a sharp eye out for the goats. They liked to sneak up on him and butt him from behind, hitting him right in the back of the knee, which caused his leg to buckle. He’d bashed his kneecap on a concrete birdbath the last time that had happened.
Winona led the way inside the trailer. It always surprised him how neat and orderly it was compared to the front yard. The backyard was an oasis of flowers and peace.
They chatted about the weather and the fair while she fixed the tea. When she handed him the cup, her fingers brushed his. She jerked back as if burned.
He set the cup down and prepared to catch her, but she shook her head, telling him she was all right.
“You’ve been with Tracy,” she said.
“Yeah. I saw her briefly this morning.”
“Why are you angry with her?”
“I’m not—” He stopped abruptly when she cast a penetrating gaze on him, reminding him of a teacher he’d had in the fifth grade who could detect mischief before it got started. He swallowed. “She was with Rafe Rawlings.”
Winona sat in her favorite chair and motioned for him to be seated. He chose a straight-backed chair at the table, pulling it around so he could face his hostess.
“You shouldn’t have let her go,” Winona said, quite gently for her. She usually was pre
tty blunt with him.
He felt the emptiness whirl and waited for it to settle. “I’m not here to talk about that. It’s…those days are gone.”
“But not forgotten,” she said with some asperity, sounding more her usual self.
He shrugged, unwilling to discuss it. What good would it do? The past was long gone. There was no way to get it back at this late date. Not that he wanted to.
“You want to know about Tracy,” Winona guessed correctly. “You want to know if she’s in danger. The answer is yes.”
His pulse leapt like a startled rabbit. “What? Who?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I sensed it on her. Did she tell you of the first vision I had, the one from the other night when she came out for supper?”
“No.” Judd felt a chill crept over him. His lethal streak, Sterling called it.
When he was on a case, a certain coolness would sometimes come over him. His mind would become as clear as crystal. He would be able to make connections between facts that few others seemed to notice. However, in this case it felt more like fear. Tracy in danger…
Winona related the vision of the two-faced woman.
“A lot of people are two-faced,” he mused when she finished. “They pretend to be one thing when they’re really another. Or they say one thing when they mean something entirely different.”
Tracy had acted as if she loved him more than life itself, but when the chips were down, she’d turned from him without a backward glance. Not that he blamed her. He was the one who’d encouraged Thadd to be independent and unafraid.
When the doctor had walked out of the operating room and shaken his head wearily, telling them their child was gone, her love had died, too. Sometimes he thought he’d never gotten over those twin blows—the loss of his son and the loss of his wife.
A hand touched his.
He glanced into wise brown eyes and saw sympathy. A pressure built behind his eyes. Hurriedly, he took a drink of the hot tea.
“Things will work out,” Winona said. Her gaze took on a misty quality. “I see darkness ahead. Tracy…” She paused, frowned, then shook her head.
“What did you see?” he asked, his heart slamming against his breastbone.
“Nothing. Just a feeling.” She studied Judd as they sipped the soothing brew. “You’re going to have to confront your sorrow someday,” she advised.