The Sheriff of Shelter Valley

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  He didn’t bother with an answer other than a long, serious stare. Heart pounding, she held her own, eyes focused on his. He was telling her something. She just wasn’t sure what.

  “I have a proposal to put to you,” he said finally, breaking another lengthy silence. “Before I present it, I’d like you to bear in mind that this is not your only option.”

  Beth’s throat was dry. She wasn’t sure she was going to make it through the explanation without losing the contents of her stomach. The nausea had been steadily rising. If only she could wrap herself in the blanket that was folded neatly at the bottom of Ry’s crib. Right where she’d left it when she’d made their beds that morning. Then she’d be okay. Maybe…

  “This suggestion is based partially on the fact that I have no knowledge of what kind of enemy we might be fighting. As the possibility exists that you or your son could be in danger, I feel it would be best, initially at least, to conduct a quiet, unofficial investigation of Beth Silverman.”

  “Can you do that? Unofficially, I mean?”

  He nodded. “I have connections. Favors to call in. I should be able to get information without alerting anyone that we’re looking. That way, I can also get the background facts without giving any reason for needing them.”

  She liked that a lot. If only…

  “But when you get the answers, you’ll have to act on them.” A sharp pain shot through her middle as she considered what that might entail.

  “One way or another, yes.” He nodded again.

  He was doing a lot of that. Nodding. And very little looking at her. She was close to believing that she’d imagined the warm and wonderful feeling he’d so recently brought into her home—her heart.

  She could believe she’d imagined one night. But she couldn’t have concocted the past couple of months, could she?

  Beth didn’t think so. But then, her mind had a history of playing tricks on her.

  HE WAS AN IDIOT. A complete and total fool.

  But if he was going to fall, at least he’d go down true to himself. He would endure to the end. No matter how many times he listed the reasons he should have his finger on the dial that very moment, calling the FBI, he couldn’t turn his back on Beth.

  The thought of what could happen to her son—months in foster care, to start with—were also wreaking havoc on his repeated admonitions to wise up.

  “Pack a bag for yourself and the boy.” If he was going to get through this, he had to be businesslike.

  The rocking stopped. She didn’t get up. “Where are we going?”

  “To my place.” He’d already figured out it was the only way. “You and Ryan are moving in with me.”

  He’d never actually seen someone’s jaw drop before.

  “What will people think?” she asked while he stood there, waiting.

  “That we’re shacking up, of course.” It was the only way.

  Beth stood straight, met him eye to eye. “We can’t do that,” she said with more gumption than he thought he’d ever seen her show. “It’s not like this is Houston, Greg. You know as well as I do that if we did something like that, everyone in Shelter Valley would know by nightfall.”

  “I’m counting on that.”

  “What?”

  He took a strange satisfaction in seeing her with all the questions for once. And didn’t feel a twinge of guilt, either.

  Of course, he was trying hard not to feel much of anything.

  “Look,” he said, as coolly as he could, considering that he was doing exactly what he’d dreamed about—bringing the woman who belonged in his house home to live with him. “I cannot take you to jail, and I have to keep you someplace where I can be certain you won’t run out on me. All the windows in my home have an alarm system that alerts me immediately if there’s any tampering, and the doors have dead bolts that lock from the outside with a key.”

  She wasn’t going anywhere.

  And no one else would be getting in, either.

  He wondered how often she had to color her hair—and Ryan’s—to conceal the blond.

  “Why can’t you take me to jail?”

  Why in hell couldn’t she concentrate on the key-from-the-outside part? Dammit, he’d just told the woman he’d slept with, that she was now in essence his prisoner. Couldn’t she at least yell at him about that?

  Something had to make this job easier to execute.

  “Because.” He gave her question the succinct answer it deserved. The fact that it was also the only answer he had didn’t matter.

  “I still don’t get why you’d do this to yourself, have the entire town talking about you. About us.”

  She was good. Playing the “concerned about him” card.

  Or…she was the Beth he’d grown to love.

  Either way, his answer was the same.

  “Everyone knows we’ve been seeing each other,” he told her, treading in dangerous waters. Dangerous to his determination not to feel. He was strangely reluctant, as well, to point out something that she apparently had not yet considered. “Because we have no idea of the enemy we might be up against, you’re going to need all the protection I can muster,” he said. “When everyone else in town sees their mail today, there are bound to be some questions. Sadly, most people don’t pay attention to those cards, but the ones who do are going to be suspicious.”

  She paled, sank back to the rocker as the truth dawned on her. Clearly she’d given no thought to the seriousness of her current situation.

  “They might not know you well, Beth, but they’ve known me all my life. They trust me. If I show them that you deserve our protection, not our condemnation, they will protect you without question. At least for a while. They would no more let anything happen to their sheriff, or anyone he loved, than they would to one of their own children.”

  “That’s expecting an awful lot from people who don’t even know me. To harbor me and Ryan with such…such conclusive evidence against me.”

  He wondered if she’d intended part of that comment for him.

  “Anywhere else, and I’d agree with you,” he said. “But not here. If I put out the word that there are extenuating circumstances and that people should hold tight, they will. They’re bound to speculate among themselves, but they won’t talk to strangers.” And once he had her safely ensconced in his home, he wouldn’t have to worry about the townspeople or what they thought.

  He and Beth had other, more critical matters facing them.

  Like the criminal charges he should probably be filing against her.

  Ryan’s future.

  And the fact that if he was wrong about Beth, the people of Shelter Valley would not trust him a second time.

  He wasn’t even going to consider the state of his heart. That was no longer relevant.

  BETH COULDN’T BELIEVE the speed with which Greg upended—and then resettled—her entire life. A call to the Willises had Ryan safely out of the way for an extra couple of hours. A second call to her landlord, and she was out of her lease. A run for boxes, a trip or two with his truck, calls to her clients canceling jobs. Five minutes to shower and change into the jeans and sweater she’d left unpacked. Finally, for the last time, she walked out of the dingy little apartment she’d grown to love.

  During the whole time they packed and cleaned, she was never alone. Even when she showered, he’d insisted she not lock the bathroom door, and had been right outside when she came out.

  Greg didn’t trust her.

  She wasn’t even sure he particularly liked her anymore. His conversation was civil, bordering on kind—but distant. He was working.

  Last night, she’d been his lover. Now she was a job.

  And when he had to go into the office—a meeting with Burt Culver he’d told her nothing about—he dropped her at the day care with his sister. He could have locked her and Ryan in his home, and Beth didn’t doubt that was coming, but he’d wanted to announce their liaison to the town as soon as possible.

  Bonnie’s
day care would take care of that.

  He’d told his sister not to let Beth close to Ryan; he insisted that Beth was exhausted and needed a rest. In effect, he’d put her under house arrest at Bonnie’s. Bonnie loved him and trusted him so she’d gone along with it.

  Beth didn’t think she’d have run, anyway. Where could she go? And why? Greg might be her best chance at finding the answers she had to have. She’d decided to let him try. Life without him was unpalatable. As unpalatable as subjecting Ryan to a life on the run.

  “You really love my brother,” Bonnie said, her cheery smile cheerier than usual as she sat behind the closed door of her office on the main floor of the day care. Through the window, they could see the children playing. Ryan and Katie were off in a corner, Katie giving Ryan a tea party. The few other children left that late in the day were coloring at a table with one of the college students who came in after school when the day care teachers went home.

  “I do,” Beth said, barely managing to look Bonnie in the eye. Greg had told her how she had to play this.

  But she didn’t want to be playing. Not with his sister. Bonnie was the only “family” she had.

  “I know he loves you,” the other woman said, her gaze intelligent but happy, as well.

  It amazed Beth how Bonnie, with her plump cheerfulness, her short body and lively dark curls, could still emanate such authority.

  “I knew months ago that you two were meant for each other. I just wasn’t sure either of you would figure it out.”

  Beth smiled, but her lips were trembling. If Bonnie only realized how impossible it was for Beth to figure anything out.

  “Hold on to that thought,” she said, pulling the crumpled card from the canvas bag monogrammed with her first name. “You might not be so happy in another second or two.”

  Bonnie leaned forward across her desk, grabbing Beth’s hand. “Of course I will be,” she said. “You’re an answer to many years of prayer. I knew it when I first saw you with Ryan. You’re strong yet sensitive, not afraid to nurture. You’re intelligent. Independent when you need to be. Capable. When something bad happens, you land on your feet. You’re exactly the type of woman Greg needs. Has needed for a long, long time. You would never have been scared off by Greg’s responsibilities with my dad. If you’d been with him then, you’d have settled in and helped. Because you care, you know what’s right and it’s important to you to do what’s right.”

  She wasn’t going to cry; she couldn’t afford to. But Beth had never been so close to just laying down her head and letting everything go, releasing all the emotion inside her. Tears in her eyes, she looked at Bonnie. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Bonnie couldn’t possibly realize how much harder she’d just made the next few minutes.

  Silently, she handed Bonnie the postcard. It wasn’t part of Greg’s plan. He’d determined that they should downplay the whole thing in an effort not to bring it to the attention of those who weren’t going to notice it, anyway. According to him, that was most of Shelter Valley.

  Bonnie’s face paled visibly. Dropping Beth’s hand, she sat up straight, every bit the intimidating administrator in spite of the brightly colored balloons painted across her shirt.

  “Has Greg seen this?”

  Beth met and held her gaze. Bonnie deserved that much. “Yes.”

  “He has?” Bonnie scrutinized her.

  “Yes.”

  Taken aback, Beth watched as the other woman visibly relaxed. Her posture, as she sank down again. The expression on her face, from formal back to friend. And her eyes, changing from careful to compassionate. All in the space of a second.

  “Then, we don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Bonnie…”

  Bonnie forestalled her with a raised hand. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not that I’m not dying of curiosity, and of course as your friend I want to know what’s going on, but you don’t owe me anything, Beth. I trust you. There’s a damn good explanation for this. Whatever it is, you were left with no other choice.”

  “You didn’t think that a minute ago, before I told you that Greg knew,” she said bleakly. “Your reaction was pretty obvious.” Not that Beth blamed her. She had doubts about herself, too. As far as the law was concerned, she was a criminal. The distribution of that card meant kidnapping charges had been pressed. And who knew what else she might have done?

  “Of course I thought that!” Bonnie’s brows drew together. “My reaction was panic, pure and simple. If he didn’t know, he had to be told immediately, so he could get to work.”

  “So he could find out if I was worth trusting?”

  Because she was looking down, Beth didn’t see Bonnie’s hand slide back across the desk. Was startled when she felt the other woman’s comforting touch.

  “So he could protect you,” Bonnie said softly.

  “What about protecting him?” Beth asked. “Until we get this straightened out, he is, in fact, harboring a criminal.”

  Bonnie shook her head emphatically. “I don’t know what’s going on and I suspect, since Greg didn’t tell me, it’s best that I not know—much as I might want to,” she added with a grin that disappeared quickly. “But I have complete faith in my brother. He’ll do the right thing.”

  The right thing. The words were a comfort to her, speaking to something elemental inside Beth. She had a very real sense that was all she’d ever wanted: to do the right thing.

  “I’M NOT LYING,” Burt Culver told his superior for the fourth time. His gut was one hard rock as he stood before Greg Richards’s desk, watching his entire life turn to dust. “I’ve told you everything I know.”

  The sheriff tilted back in his chair, but Burt wasn’t fooled by the seemingly nonchalant pose. Greg Richards was doing battle. And he was going to win.

  He always did.

  Because he chose his battles carefully and fought only for what he believed in. It was probably the quality Burt admired most about Greg.

  He’d just never figured he’d be on the other side during one of those fights.

  But somehow Burt had to win, too. The job was everything to him. Always had been. His only motive had been to protect his right to be a cop.

  Greg perused him silently. Waiting for him to crack, to say more. Burt had witnessed the tactic more times than he could count.

  He was immune to it.

  But not to the desperation driving him. If Greg Richards thought he was going to take his job away from him…

  “I swear, Sheriff,” he said, using Greg’s title although he didn’t often do so. “I was only on an information-gathering mission when Len Wagner told me about the Bloodhounds taking up residence in some clearing about thirty miles from Shelter Valley. I had no idea what the significance of the information was or why we should care. I reported back to Foltz and that was that.”

  “And the hermit?” Greg said, his tone implacable.

  “I tried three times to find him, just like I told you. The place was boarded up. Looked deserted.”

  He was relieved when Richards nodded. But not really surprised. The sheriff had told him he’d been out to the place himself. And he’d be fair in his assessment of the truth.

  “And the photographs?” Greg asked.

  Eyes focused on the freshly painted ceiling, Burt gritted his teeth. He thought about lying to his superior. He had to lie. Just like that day he’d damaged the photos, he had no choice.

  Sweating, Culver stood there. Time stretched before him. Empty. Pointless.

  He wasn’t at fault here. He’d done nothing but follow orders. He wasn’t going to lose everything, when he’d done exactly what he’d sworn to do. He couldn’t.

  And then his gaze met Richards’s.

  It was over. He’d done his job. He’d had no idea there was a connection between the two series of crimes. Foltz had sworn to him… And then, when Greg had shown him the photos, he’d known. Damn! He’d only done what he was told, done his best. And it was all
over, anyway.

  Foltz, you son of a bitch, I have a new boss now. Until he crucifies me.

  “I distracted the technician, put all the photos and discs together, loosened the cap on some kind of fluid…”

  “Why?”

  Humiliation was hell. A lesson he could have done without.

  “Because if I don’t have my job, I’ve got nothing.”

  Greg’s feet landed on the tile floor with a snap. He stood, fists on his desk, as he leaned forward. “And where did you ever get the idea that tampering with evidence would preserve your job?” The words were no less deadly for their softness.

  His coffin was lying before him. There was no longer any reason to follow orders. Or to care what happened if he didn’t.

  “Unless I destroyed those pictures, I was going to be implicated in the series of carjackings that killed your father.”

  If it was possible to hate himself any further, Burt would have when Greg dropped back into his chair, the aura of unshakable authority falling away for an instant.

  “You?” Greg asked, hardly able to look at Burt. “You were behind the carjackings?”

  “Hell, no!” He hadn’t meant to be so loud, glanced around to see if anyone was coming into the room to see what was going on.

  No one did.

  He stepped forward, careful to keep his hands folded in front of him and nowhere near the revolver Greg had asked him to place on his desk at the beginning of the interview.

  The beginning of the end.

  “I knew nothing about them,” Burt said, consciously lowering his voice. “Back then, I didn’t even know that the questions I’d been asking had anything to do with the carjackings. I’d picked Len up on a DUI a few months before. It wasn’t the first time—he was a heavy-duty partier. Foltz sent me to question him, trying to find a link to a…problem he was having out in the desert.”

  Greg was listening intently, one fist at his lips.

  “Then, out of the blue, I get this call from Foltz. He tells me that I worked on the case ten years ago. That I turned up incriminating evidence—evidence I didn’t act on—and that he had enough witnesses who’d incriminate me. We could both go down, he said. He had some reports I’d signed. Investigations I’d done for him—always under the guise of something else. He had me neatly framed. I was the officer in charge and it looked like I’d closed a case in spite of hard evidence. He was taking care of things on his end and just needed me to watch things here.”