Return of the Lawman

by Lisa Childs

  He opened his mouth but re thought the wisdom of giving her the words. He had nothing else to offer her. No home. A shaky career. Would she wait around while he rebuilt his life? He doubted it. She’d found her mother and her brother. Once the killer was caught, she’d leave again.

  He tucked her close to his side and hung on tightly as he slipped into a light sleep. He had to listen for any peculiar noise. He had to keep her safe. Even from himself.

  LINDSEY AWOKE WITH A DRY mouth and a throbbing headache. But she was alive, never more alive, and never more in love. Her foolish heart had made another mistake. But it didn’t matter. She’d never felt so much before. Even though her love was not returned, she couldn’t stop loving him.

  Discovering her arms empty, she opened her eyes and glanced around the impersonal motel room. On the night stand his wallet lay open.

  Next to his badge was a picture of a golden-haired, blue-eyed angel. His mother. And Dylan had watched her die. She shuddered for the loss of his child hood and longed to soothe away his pain.

  Then she spotted him beside the window. He’d tipped open the blinds to peer out. She wondered if he watched the sunrise and appreciated its glorious pinks and purples streaking across a slate sky. Or did he watch for enemies and danger and miss the beauty entirely? She worried that he did the latter, had done so his whole life.

  Yet, how much beauty had he known in his life? A man who didn’t think hap pi ness was worth the pain? A man who thought one couldn’t be obtained without the other.

  “Hypocrite,” she accused herself in a harsh whisper. What did she know about hap pi ness or beauty?

  “What?” Dylan asked, but he didn’t turn around.

  Her gaze slid over the smooth muscles in his naked back, and she wanted him again. Who was she fooling? She wanted him always.

  “Talking to myself,” she muttered, and brushed a hand through the rat’s nest that was her hair.

  “How’s the head?”

  “Throbbing. I feel like I’m coming down from a three-day drinking binge, but without any embarrassing memories of it. Just the pain.”

  “I can find you something….”

  She waved a hand at him as a yawn claimed her. A few hours of sleep would never suffice again. When this whole mess was over, she planned on sleeping ten hours every night. At least for a week.

  “You want to go some where for break fast?”

  “No. I want answers.”

  “You’re not going to like them.” He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I have to inter view your mother, Lindsey.”

  “My mother?” She’d thought he’d dropped her mother as a suspect. She figured he had focused on the sheriff even though she hoped Dylan would be spared the pain of arresting a man he cared about, whom he idolized.

  “She seems to be in the middle of all of this, Lindsey.”

  She shook her head. “No. She’s being framed, Dylan.”

  “Another reason to talk to her, to figure out how she got out the night of Oliver’s murder.”

  She sighed. “She can’t help you, Dylan. She can barely speak. I thought you were looking at the sheriff.”

  “I talked to him.” He shrugged. “I searched his house. I don’t have enough—”

  “But the money he’s going to get from the land…” Lindsey shivered. “It can make people do crazy things—that much money.”

  “The money’s not for him.”

  “Then…” She glimpsed the pain and remorse on his face. Dylan wasn’t as able to detach himself as he once had. “For you. He’s doing it for you.”

  “And I just about accused him of murder.”

  “So it’s not the sheriff.” She mentally checked him off her list.

  “I can’t say that, either.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I need to talk to your brother, officially.”

  She sputtered out a laugh and reached for her clothes. This was not a discussion to have when naked. “You’re crazy! Evan had nothing to do with the deaths of the mayor and Chet Oliver. I thought you believed that.”

  “I do.”

  She dragged her sweater over her head and clipped her bra beneath it. “Then why—”

  “I want the records he has from Arborview. And I need your mother’s car for evidence.” He exhaled a ragged breath. “And I think Evan Quade knows more than he’s saying.”

  “That’s nonsense.” She pulled her pants over her hips and struggled with the snap with trembling fingers.

  “That’s breaking the law if he’s with holding information pertinent to a police investigation.”

  “You don’t like him?”

  “No.”

  “I thought it was because you were jealous, that you cared about me.” Her heart ached, and she rubbed her knuckles over it. “But that’s not the case. You know he’s my brother, and you still dislike him.”

  “He thinks he’s above the law, Lindsey. No one’s above the law.”

  “And that’s all you are, isn’t it, Dylan? Just a lawman. Not a friend. Not a lover.”

  “Lindsey…”

  She stepped into her shoes. “Those are Evan’s records.”

  “Yeah, he bought them. He may know more about the guard. And he should have Immediately informed the police when he found your mother. At the very least, he should have told your father.”

  She glared at him. “My father under stands and accepts what Evan did.”

  Dylan shrugged. “I don’t. He has to explain it to me along with some other things.”

  “Why waste your time with Evan when you have a killer to arrest? Who is it, Dylan?”

  He shook his head and ran a hand over his bare chest. “I can’t narrow it down. I have to have more proof, Lindsey. I don’t want details from my investigation showing up on the front page of the Gazette.”

  Her palm itched to slap him. “You don’t trust me. Even after last night and the night before, you still don’t trust me?”

  He shook his head again. And didn’t even call after her when she stormed out. Lindsey fought back the tears as she winced over the deafening noise of the door slamming behind her.

  She stomped through the parking lot, past her mother’s car. Evidence. Gulls sang a lonesome song as they scoured the asphalt for crumbs.

  Her brother was right. She tried too hard. But she hadn’t reached Dylan. She finally began to accept that she never would.

  But there was one person who could reach him yet. One person who could teach Dylan how to unlock the door holding all his emotions in….

  Chapter Thirteen

  LINDSEY WATCHED the approach of Sarah Hutchins as a reflection in the window she faced.

  “Why’d you ask me here?” The woman stood in front of Evan’s desk and spoke to the back of his chair.

  With the toe of her hiking boot, Lindsey spun the high-back leather chair around to face the desk. “For me.”

  Sarah took a quick step back. “I have nothing to say to you.” Her gaze darted from Lindsey to the window behind her.

  “Nothing to me? That’s probably true. You owe Dylan an explanation.”

  Sarah laughed. “What makes you think I owe Dylan Matthews anything?”

  “He’s not the father of your son. He’s not the man who took advantage of your youthful crush, Sarah. That man’s dead.”

  “And every body thinks my brother killed him.” Tears glimmered in Sarah’s eyes. “That’s not true.”

  “Then who did, Sarah?” Lindsey vaulted to her feet and leaned over the wide desk. “Who?”

  Sarah danced back a couple of steps. “You’re saying—you think I did?”

  “If not Steve, who had a motive besides you?”

  “Evan brought me here to let you accuse me of murder?” Rage twisted Sarah’s delicate features. “I’m going to tell my husband.”

  Lindsey shook her head, amazed by Sarah’s immaturity. “And what’s he going to do about it? Fire his right-hand man?”

  Sarah’s gray eyes
were cold like the barrel of a gun. “My husband will do anything for me. Anything.”

  Lindsey shivered, but she didn’t doubt Sarah. “You know there are just a couple of things the deaths of the mayor and Chet Oliver have in common.” Sarah shrugged.

  “Not going to guess?”

  “This is ridiculous. But you always were into ridiculous games. Chasing Dylan Matthews like you did.”

  “Ten years ago.”

  “Oh, not now?” Sarah’s brow lifted into a perfect arch.

  Lindsey wanted to say she’d caught him now, but she couldn’t utter the lie. “No, ten years ago, the mayor was the judge who sentenced your brother to life in prison, and Chet was his lawyer. The man who advised him to plead guilty. And the sheriff—”

  “He’s dead, too?”

  Lindsey hoped she glimpsed surprise and not triumph in the other woman’s eyes. But she was too exhausted to trust her instincts. “No. But he had an accident. He’s in the hospital.”

  “So you’re saying what these men have in common is my brother’s death on their hands? Then Dylan Matthews should be dead, too.” Without the bitterness twisting her features, Sarah probably would have been quite lovely. Lindsey only saw the ugliness.

  “There have been attempts. A few. Must be awfully frustrating for whoever’s behind these murders. Of course, un suspecting old men are easy to kill. Dylan has suspects. He told me.”

  “And I’m one of them?” Sarah smirked. “Warning me? Isn’t that dangerous, Lindsey? Wouldn’t I flee town with my son?”

  “If you are the killer, then I’m taking a risk. But I think you’re too arrogant to run, Sarah. As you said, your husband would do anything for you. I believe he has, and he would.”

  “Now you’re accusing my husband?” Sarah’s interest shifted to her nails. She buffed the highly polished tips with her thumb. “You really are risking a lawsuit for defamation of character. Mine and my husband’s.”

  Lindsey shrugged. “There will be a lawsuit. Dylan will sue you for visitation. You’d be much smarter to let their relationship form on your terms.”

  Sarah’s gray eyes flashed. “My terms are that there is no relationship.” She turned for the door.

  Lindsey took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to threaten you, Sarah.”

  “Like someone with as few means as you could ever threaten me,” she scoffed from the door. Her hand was on the knob, but she didn’t turn it.

  Lindsey acknowledged that with a brief nod. “You’re probably right about that. But what if that’s all you’re right about? What if Dylan had nothing to do with your brother’s suicide? What if your brother really killed Jimmy? Then you’ve kept Dylan from the only family he has left for no reason. Then you’ve acted just as unjustly as your brother.”

  “You know nothing about having a brother. About how it was between us. We may not have been blood relatives, but we were raised together. We were raised with love.”

  “Then you always had more than Dylan. And you’re keeping from him the one person who may be able to reach his heart. Are you that cruel, Sarah? You who were raised with so much love?” Lindsey swallowed her envy over Sarah’s idyllic child hood.

  Sarah leaned her forehead against the door. “I need proof, Lindsey. I need something to prove that Dylan is worthy of my son. And your word is not good enough. You’ve always loved Dylan Matthews.”

  Lindsey blinked her burning eyes. “Yeah, I’ve loved foolishly before, Sarah. Just as you did. I have my eyes wide open now. He’s a good man.”

  Sarah opened the door. “I need proof,” she maintained, and she walked out.

  Lindsey had nothing to offer her. For although she claimed she hadn’t fallen foolishly this time, she didn’t know enough about Dylan Matthews to offer proof. What kind of man was he when he could make love to her one minute and in the next suspect her brother and mother of murder?

  DYLAN GLANCED UP FROM his desk when a big box dropped on the cluttered surface. Whatever papers weren’t crushed beneath the load fell to the scuffed floor. He narrowed his tired eyes at the person who leaned over the box. “Quade.”

  “Deputy.”

  “I assume these are the missing files.”

  “Very sharp, Deputy. These are from Arborview, a gift to me.” Amusement danced in Quade’s dark eyes.

  “A gift?” Dylan didn’t feel like arguing with the man. He could still see the hurt look on Lindsey’s face. The woman constantly interfered with his police work even when she wasn’t present. “Without proof, I guess I’ll have to accept that.”

  Quade laughed. “She got to you.”

  “I’m too busy to bother pinning a B and E charge on you,” Dylan hedged, and dragged some papers from under the edge of the box.

  Quade slid the box over, crumpling more papers, and perched on the corner of the desk. “She’s gotten to me, too.”

  Dylan raised a brow.

  “Not like that. She is my sister.” Quade smiled. “And she’s a very special lady. Smart, funny, loyal… A man could do worse.”

  “A man could do a lot worse. You match making, Quade? I didn’t figure you for the type.”

  He ran a hand over his dark hair. “No. You wouldn’t be my first choice for Lindsey, probably not even my tenth.”

  Dylan couldn’t argue with him, and he found himself softening a little over Quade’s brotherly concern for Lindsey. “I trust all the files are here?”

  “everything that was left from when Arborview was the home for unwed mothers. First, I tried to bribe the truth out of the old man, but Chet thought sleeping dogs should lie.” Quade snorted. “He was the dog. He never got my mother’s signature, just her parents’. Bad deal all around.”

  “Other bad deals in there?”

  “From what I could tell, yeah.” Quade tapped a knuckle against the box.

  “And everything was from years and years ago?” He didn’t fully accept that these were the records from the home. He wouldn’t put it past Quade to have broken into the old lawyer’s office. If he had stolen those records, he may have taken other information from the lawyer. Like something from a man who died ten years ago…

  “Yeah, the home closed up about twenty years ago. everything in there is at least that old.”

  Dylan nodded but persisted. “Nothing more recent. Ten years old. I’m not talking about an adoption. Any correspondence, anything from ten years ago?”

  Quade shook his head. “Not that I noticed, but I wouldn’t have paid much attention to it. Obviously, I’m more than ten years old. So, you going to slap the cuffs on me for interfering with your investigation?”

  “I don’t have a warrant yet,” Dylan reminded him, and fought the smile threatening to lift his mouth. “Yet?”

  Dylan rolled a shoulder. “I have the files now. All of them, right?”

  Quade nodded. “Yeah. I can’t promise nothing’s been copied. But all the originals are there.”

  “Thanks,” Dylan said. “And I have a couple questions for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Quade laughed. “You have a sense of humor, Deputy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

  “Don’t count on it.” Dylan balanced his chair on the back legs. “So you found Mrs. Warner?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How’d you know she was missing?”

  “I might need to take the Fifth on that, considering you haven’t made up your mind about a warrant.”

  “How?”

  Quade’s dark eyes narrowed. “The guard contacted my private investigator, letting him know that he saw her drive off in a car.”

  “She was driving?”

  “That’s what he said. And I found her behind the wheel of the car in her own driveway.” He sighed. “But she shouldn’t have been driving, she was a mess.”

  “Where is this guard?”

  “I guess he took off, got spooked or something.” Quade shrugged. “I suppose, hypothetically speaking, if
my investigator could bribe this guard, someone else could, too.”

  Dylan nodded. “Yeah, maybe someone else did.”

  “To get my mother out and do what? Frame her for murder?” He shuddered.

  Dylan raised a shoulder and let it drop. “I don’t know. Maybe just to keep us busy else where. But then the sanatorium didn’t report her disappearance for hours, while they con ducted their own search for her.”

  “So who do you suspect?”

  Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Why didn’t I notice the family resemblance before? You’re re lent less. Don’t push. Only Lindsey can get away with that.”

  “Don’t let her get away, Deputy Dylan.” He jumped to his feet and straightened his suit. “Trust me on this. If you care about her at all, keep her and keep her close. You’re smarter than I thought and less uptight—you just might be able to handle her.”

  Dylan’s heart tightened as if his chest was trapped under a tremendous weight. Maybe it was. He wanted to take Quade’s advice, but he couldn’t be that selfish.

  “Don’t arrest him!” Lindsey breathlessly cried as she burst through the door of the police station.

  “I’m not arresting him,” Dylan grumbled. “I should, but I don’t have time for the pa per work.”

  Lindsey lifted her chin, and her dark eyes danced with the light of battle. Dylan’s pulse kicked into overdrive with anticipation.

  “You know the judge would never grant you an arrest warrant, and you don’t want to look like a fool.” She smirked.

  Dylan smiled and patted the box on his desk. “Looks like I have enough evidence right here to get that arrest warrant. Don’t push me, Lindsey.”

  “That’s seems to be his threat du jour,” Quade commented with a smile of his own, which ex pressed his delight in Dylan being on the defensive.

  “Don’t push you?” Lindsey huffed. “Don’t push you? Who’s been pushing since the day we met again, Dylan Matthews?”

  “That would be you.” He rose from the chair and stalked around the front of his desk. To truly appreciate Lindsey’s explosive energy, he had to be close enough to touch her.

  She pressed a finger to his chest. “Wrong. That would be you!”