Man Without A Badge

by Dani Sinclair

  “What happened to the husband?”

  Carter’s expression grew hard and unreadable.

  “They’re divorced. There’s one thing you’d better understand from the start, Sam. Marly’s off-limits. Got it?”

  “Does that include you?”

  Temper flashed in Carter’s eyes, but was quickly under control. He was starting to reply when there was a shout.

  “Smoke!”

  Sam followed the direction of the pointing finger. A wispy thread of gray drifted upward to blend with the sky. It was some distance away. About as far away as the nearest barn.

  Chapter Two

  Marly continued to hold the hose long after the grass fire was out, and even after someone had turned off the water. She trembled at the near miss. Who hated her this much? Which one of her neighbors wanted to see her fail badly enough to burn her out, at the risk of the kids and animals under her protection?

  Or was she being paranoid? The fire could have been an accident—couldn’t it?

  A strong hand closed over her fingers and kindled an immediate sense of awareness. Before lifting her head, she knew who was tugging the hose from her grasp.

  “You can let go now, Marly,” Sam said, taking the metal sprayer from her hand.

  “What happened here?” Carter demanded. His voice pulled her back to reality.

  “I don’t know.” Marly drew a smudged hand across her bangs and shook her head. She glanced at the boys clustered nervously behind her. “Jerome ran into the kitchen and said the field was on fire.”

  Jerome’s narrow chest puffed forward in pride, and his white teeth gleamed against his face.

  Sam dropped the hose and left her side, heading toward the sodden grass in that loose, easy stride of his. She saw that he watched Jake who prowled the charred ground.

  “How did it start?” Carter demanded.

  Marly shrugged, without taking her eyes from the two men. “I haven’t a clue. What happened to the fences? We just replaced the old posts a few weeks ago.”

  Jake bent to lift something. Sam followed his movements intently. When he turned and caught her watching, he headed back in her direction.

  “Accidents happen,” Carter replied.

  “Particularly when they have help,” Sam added, joining them.

  Carter shook his head, frowning heavily, but Marly focused on Sam’s stony expression. Blood rushed through her with enough force to set her trembling again.

  “What kind of help?” she asked Sam.

  “One of the yearlings must have—”

  “Someone used a truck to pull it down,” Sam stated with quiet conviction.

  She fought for control, nails digging into the palms of her hands. So she wasn’t paranoid. That would have been too easy. “Is what Sam says true, Carter?”

  “Now, Marly—”

  “Don’t you dare.” She had to force the words past her anger. “Don’t you dare lie to me. Did someone deliberately tear down the fence?” She held his eyes, refusing to let him look away.

  “Well, it could have happened that way.”

  “Why?”

  Her question hung in the air. The pickup truck roared into the yard, and her other two employees spilled out on the run. “Everything okay?” one shouted.

  No one bothered to answer. Jake ambled forward, satisfaction on his narrow face. “This is why there was a fire,” he stated. The obscene remains of a cigarette butt lay on his dirty, outstretched palm. “One of your br—boys—was smokin’ again.”

  Relief coursed through her. At least the fire had been an accident. Sam didn’t move, yet her eyes homed in on his. She couldn’t read a thing in his hard expression, so she twisted to face the boys who stood clustered together in silence, eyes downcast. “Is it true? Was someone smoking?”

  “We didn’t see nothin’,” Chris muttered.

  He was often the spokesman. The other boys tended to follow his lead. Now was no different. There was a general shuffling. None of them met her gaze.

  “You know the rules,” she told them quietly. “This is the reason why I have a no-smoking rule. The barn could have burned. Someone could have gotten hurt.”

  “Why you always gotta blame us? It coulda been one of them,” Chris said, gesturing at the men who were heading toward the barn.

  “No. I don’t hire smokers. A barn fire is a terrifying sight.” Marly closed her eyes for a second. No one made a sound. It occurred to her that she hadn’t asked the new man if he smoked.

  “Okay,” she continued slowly. “I told you at the outset, I don’t make threats. Anyone caught with cigarettes will be sent home—immediately.” Six pairs of eyes measured the seriousness of her words. “The guilty party knows what he did. And you all did a great job of pulling together to put the fire out.”

  Her eyes strayed. Sam watched her with disconcerting approval. “End of discussion,” she told them.

  “Don’t you even want to know who did it?” Chris asked in surprise.

  “Were you smoking, Chris?” she asked.

  He took a step back, his head shaking from side to side. The other boys watched in silence.

  “Okay, then. You want to help the men put everything away?”

  The boys seized on the excuse. As they began to help clean the yard, Carter came to stand in front of her.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Yes, we certainly do.” She still wasn’t ready to forgive him for lying about the fence, even if it had been due to a misplaced need to protect her. How many other times had he lied to her?

  “Look, I can’t be your foreman and counselor to these kids at the same time. We’ve got to try and find someone to take charge of the boys. There’s too much real work to be done around here.”

  Marly bristled, but there was truth to what Carter said. Since the counselor had quit, Carter was the only one she trusted completely with the boys. Still, his patience often wore thin, and as her trainer, he had other responsibilities.

  She watched Sam help Jerome coil a length of hose. The boy looked up and grinned suddenly at something Sam had said. She hadn’t liked that bit with the knife earlier, even if he had captured the boys’ attention and earned their respect. He’d intimidated her, as well, yet she had the strangest sensation that she could trust him.

  “You’re absolutely right, Carter. I’ll ask Sam to take over with the kids until we can find someone qualified.”

  “Hey, now, wait a minute. You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t know anything about Sam. For all we know, he could be a child molester.”

  “Look at him, Carter. Does he act like a child molester?”

  “You think he’d wear a sign saying ‘I’m a child molester’?”

  “Point taken.”

  “Marly—”

  “I know, Carter. I’m not stupid. I’ll call his references tonight. If he checks out, we’ll use him—at least temporarily. What other choice do we have?”

  “Damn it, this isn’t wise.”

  “Neither is lying to me, Carter, but we’ll take that up later, too. Send Sam and his gear to the main house when you finish. I want to talk to him.”

  Carter laid a hand on her arm. It didn’t generate an iota of the unsettling awareness that Sam’s touch had ignited.

  “Marly, you can’t be planning to let him sleep inside. At least put him in the bunkhouse with the rest of us at night.”

  There was common sense behind his words. Taking a complete stranger inside the house was a risk. So what wasn’t? She’d been taking risks of one kind or another for years.

  She pulled free from Carter’s hold, saw his momentary anger and frustration, and felt a stab of remorse. Sooner or later, she was going to have to take a firm position, where he was concerned.

  “Send Sam up to the house. I want to talk to him.”

  “Marly—”

  “Just do it, Carter.” She turned on her heels and headed for the front porch. The sense tha
t she was being watched made her look back. Carter was stalking toward the barn in a huff, but Sam was eying her from beneath the low brim of his hat. Was she about to make a huge mistake again?

  No sooner did she reach the base of the wide sweeping porch than the crunch of gravel had her spinning back around. A Montgomery County police car pulled into the yard, bringing everyone to an immediate standstill. Apprehension tightened her stomach. She looked for Carter, but the only adult in plain sight was Sam. There was a curious stillness to his posture, a peculiar expression on his strong face. Resigned to facing the inevitable, Marly started back out to intercept the squad car. She knew who would be behind the wheel.

  FEAR CRAMPED Sam’s gut in a painful knot that activated his ulcer. He ignored the burning sensation and measured the distance to the barn. Nearby, but not close enough. He was too exposed. He looked for another place of concealment. There wasn’t time. Not without drawing attention right to him.

  Maybe the cop wasn’t here because of him. Maybe he had come because he saw the smoke. Sam forced himself to stand his ground. Would the hat cover enough of his face? He didn’t know a lot of uniformed officers in Maryland. It was unlikely this was someone he knew professionally. He caught Marly watching, but he couldn’t manage a smile. Had she seen his fear? He strove to control his breathing.

  Jerome stood nearby. The youth was also staring hard at the police car. Sam realized fear was something he and all six boys had in common. The youngsters watched in quiet trepidation as the cruiser rolled to a stop a few feet away.

  Marly seemed to gather herself before she strode forward briskly, dusting her hands on the back of her trimfitting jeans. “Officer Duncan. How can I help you today?”

  “Marly.” The man stepped from the car, and his hard gaze swept each child in turn. “These the newest boys?”

  “Yes.” She bit the word off and stood her ground.

  “New help?” the officer asked, swinging toward Sam.

  Sam forced himself to stand perfectly still under that examination. Fear dried his mouth. The officer did look slightly familiar. They had met at some time. When? Where? Would the man she called Duncan recognize Sam as a fugitive?

  The urge to reach for the gun in his boot was almost as irresistible as it was stupid. Before Sam could move, much less utter a syllable, Marly gave another terse “Yes” in answer to the officer’s question. She made no move to introduce the two men.

  It was unbelievably difficult to stand easy under Duncan’s scrutiny. Sam had faced down armed men with fewer misgivings. Of course, then he’d been fairly confident of the outcome. He knew his odds of surviving this encounter weren’t good, but he wouldn’t struggle if he was unmasked. Not with all these kids around.

  Marly braced her hands on her waist, drawing Duncan’s full attention. “What can we do for you?”

  “I just thought I’d drop by and check to be sure everything was okay. Looks like you had a problem.” He inclined his head in the direction of the blackened field.

  “Nothing important. A minor grass fire.”

  “Really?”

  Marly didn’t reply.

  “You know, some of the neighbors are uneasy, after all the problems last year, and what with you being divorced now and everything…”

  “Thank you, Officer. Your kindness knows no bounds, does it?”

  The total absence of inflection was chilling. More telling than outright anger. Duncan shifted a bit, as if he weren’t sure how to reply.

  A clanging noise shattered the moment. An older woman stood on the wide porch, ringing the heavy metal triangle that hung near the front steps.

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” Marly said. “That’s Emma’s way of telling me I’m wanted on the telephone. Sam, you’ll get the boys inside? Dinner should be ready shortly.”

  Marly didn’t wait for an answer. She turned with regal pride and strode unhurriedly toward the house. They had been dismissed. It was brilliantly, perfectly executed.

  “All right, you heard the boss,” Sam drawled, turning away from Duncan to face the boys. “Dust yourselves off, and let’s head inside.”

  One pair of wide eyes stared at him with something other than obedience. He saw the sharp fear as clearly as if he’d heard the mental connection being made. The cop hadn’t made it, but the kid sure had.

  “A moment, if you please,” Duncan growled behind him.

  “Yes, sir?” Sam paused, hoping the acid churning in his stomach didn’t show by so much as a flicker of an eyelash.

  “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  Sam nodded. He kept from looking at the boy with an effort. Would the kid speak out? Did Duncan notice the sweat trickling down the side of Sam’s face?

  “You got a last name—Sam, was it?” The burly cop with the pockmarked face narrowed his eyes.

  Just what Sam needed. A career cop with an attitude and a scared kid who could identify him.

  “Moore.”

  “Moore, huh? Where you from, Mr. Moore?”

  “Most recently? Utah.”

  “Utah.” Officer Duncan savored the word. “Big place, Utah.” He rocked back on his heels, raking Sam with a hard look. “Most recently, huh?”

  Sam kept his expression blank, his fingers splayed at his sides, instead of curled with tension, the way they wanted to be. Any minute now, the boy would bolt, or condemn him with a word.

  “Where, exactly, in Utah?”

  Before Sam could answer, Carter’s hearty greeting split the tension with effervescent friendliness. “Hey, there, Johnny D. How’s it going?”

  He strode across the yard from the main barn. Sam glimpsed Jake, watching from the recessed shadows inside the open doorway.

  Duncan acknowledged the foreman, a bit reluctantly. “Carter.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” Sam told the men. To Carter he added, “I need to get the boys inside and organized for dinner.”

  “Sure. Go ahead. What brings you out our way, Johnny? Not more trouble, I hope.”

  Sam wanted to hear the answer to that, as well, but a grungy hand snagged his. Jerome looked up at him, his dark eyes filled with worry.

  “Can we go inside now, Sam?”

  “Sure thing. Okay, guys, let’s move ‘em out and move ‘em in.”

  “Huh?” Mickey asked.

  “He means get inside, dumbface,” the boy called Hector answered.

  “I knew that.”

  “Bull.”

  “Last one in gets the first bath,” Sam told them. There was an instant rush toward the front porch. All except Jerome, who clung to Sam’s hand and kept pace at his side.

  MARLY LISTENED, her fingers pressed tightly against the hard plastic receiver.

  “This is your last warning. Get rid of those kids before there’s trouble.” Almost immediately, the dial tone hummed in her ear. It took her several seconds to make herself replace the receiver.

  Her heart stuttered in fear. This was by no means the first nasty call, but that didn’t make it any less threatening. She turned blind eyes toward the window.

  Damn it, she wasn’t going to be a victim. If her socalled neighbors didn’t like her horse farm, they should have bought houses elsewhere. Her place had been here long before the suburban sprawl moved in its direction, and working with troubled youths was something she had always wanted to do. She’d already taken steps to prevent the sort of problems that had occurred last year.

  “Excuse me.”

  Her head snapped around. Sam leaned against the door frame to the office, the dirty duffel bag in one large hand. There was a sense of leashed power behind that negligent pose.

  “Sorry to bother you, but the boys are upstairs getting ready for dinner. I’d like to know where I’m supposed to bunk for the night.” Once again, the drawl was less pronounced.

  This man was not what he seemed.

  Marly straightened in her chair at the thought. “Come in. I take it you met Emma.”

  “Not to the poin
t of introduction,” Sam said wryly.

  Marly had to smile. If she knew Emma, her stout friend had watched in silence when he brought the boys inside, and probably pointed down the hall when he asked for Marly. Emma used words with the care usually reserved for treasured artifacts.

  “Emma’s a dear. She doesn’t talk much, but she cooks like a dream and manages to keep the house from being condemned by the health department.”

  “A noble effort, I’m sure.”

  Marly grinned in spite of herself, and motioned to one of the two red leather chairs opposite the desk. “Have a seat. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  Sam glanced around him. This was a man’s room, dominated by dark paneling and heavy furniture. Marly was far too delicate for the padded leather chair behind the scarred oak desk. He wondered whose comfort the room had been intended for originally. Her ex-husband?

  He dropped his bag next to the chair and sat down, trying not to let his stiffness show. Sam knew all about interrogation, from both sides of the table. His story would hold together. She didn’t know who he was or why he was here, and he’d had years of experience telling lies in the name of undercover work. He waited for her to begin, without saying a word. Instead, he used the time to study the deceptively fragile lady sitting across from him. She had the most tempting lips set in that heart-shaped face.

  “Are you wanted by the police?”

  The question jerked him erect in the red leather chair. “Why would you ask a damn fool question like that?” Did she know? His words had sounded harsh, but at least he hadn’t stammered in surprise.

  “Look, Sam, I don’t have time for more problems. I saw the way you reacted to Duncan. I want a straight answer.”

  His mind scrambled with alternatives as he forced himself to settle again. He tipped back his hat and stretched out his legs to cross them at the ankles. God only knew if he’d be able to uncross them afterward, but he had to look at ease.

  Her eyes followed his movements. When she lifted them again and caught him watching, the faintest hint of a blush added color to her pale cheeks.