Shadow Point Deputy

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Rita considered the new information. “I didn’t peg you for a loner.” More like Mr. Congeniality.

  “I’m not,” he said, opening the front door. “I love my family. My friends.”

  “But you like to be alone,” she finished.

  Cole turned a curious look in her direction. “Yeah.”

  Rita nodded. “Me, too.”

  Cole lifted a finger as they crossed the threshold. “Wait here.”

  Rita watched from her position in the open living area as Cole made a sweep of the home before returning to her side. From where she stood, it was easy to see the kitchen, back door and loft, and a hallway to another set of rooms.

  He raised his easy smile. “Ready for the tour?”

  Rita hesitated. It had been a long time since a man had invited her to his home. “Sure.” Reluctantly she followed him through the modest rooms, mostly decorated in outdoor equipment and pictures of him and his friends doing everything from fishing to hiking. She imagined clinging to his middle as she joined him on one of the mud-soaked four-wheelers or drenched with lake water after a dive off his boat.

  Clearly, the stress was taking a toll on her mind.

  Cole dropped her bags on the end of a tidy bed in an otherwise messy room. His style was clearly bachelor minimalist, but this room looked like one where he was always in a hurry. Clothes were draped over the hamper and a corner chair. Stacks of jeans lined the wall behind an open closet door.

  “Sorry.” Cole tossed stray items into the closet and kicked the door shut. “This room doesn’t get a lot of attention. I’m always on my way in or out, so...”

  She turned her eyes away from the bed. Either local rumors about his nightlife were exaggerated, or Cole just didn’t bring the parade of women here. Either way, she stupidly liked the idea that he’d invited her. “It’s fine. Where will you sleep?”

  “Won’t.” The word was out in an instant, and Cole headed back into the hall.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, I don’t sleep well. Not since the military. For another—” he turned to look at her over his shoulder “—as long as you’re with me, I’m on duty.”

  “Oh.” She caught up with him in the narrow hall. “I can stay at a hotel. You shouldn’t lose sleep over me.”

  He gave a disbelieving laugh, as if she’d hit on some inside joke. “I’ll survive.”

  Cole stripped his uniform shirt off, exposing a plain white T-shirt beneath. He hung the button-down on the back of a chair pulled up to the kitchen island, then went to open the refrigerator. “Let’s eat, and then we can figure out what’s next.”

  “You don’t know?” Rita climbed onto a seat at the counter and fought a new round of panic bubbling in her core.

  “Not yet,” he said, no trace of concern in his tone. Cole collected glasses from the cabinet and dropped stacks of ice into them. “It’s early and you still have a lot to tell me. Plus, I need to talk with West. He’s been on the case since before dawn.” A body in the river, a break-in at Rita’s, an attempted hit-and-run in Rivertown all before two o’clock. If the pace kept up, it was going to be one hell of a night.

  * * *

  “HOW LONG DO you think I’ll be here?” she asked. “Until morning? Longer? What will people think? How long will Mrs. Wilcox have to watch my cats? Can I go to work tomorrow or should I call off?”

  Cole set a glass in front of her. “Drink this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Ice water.” He looked her over carefully. “How are you feeling? Besides afraid?”

  She forced her attention away from his lips, ignored the way his T-shirt fit his lean body as if it had been cut just for him, and searched for an answer that had nothing to do with the butterflies in her knotted tummy. “I’m not thinking clearly.” That was true enough. She gulped the water. “Probably stress and the head injury.”

  Cole rounded the counter with concern in his eyes. “What do you mean?” He turned the seat of her stool until she faced him, then crouched to meet her at eye level. “Your thoughts are unclear? How’s your vision?”

  “Fine. I thought you said I was okay.”

  “That was before you said you aren’t thinking clearly. What if I missed something?” He raised steady palms to outline her face, then brushed away the swath of bangs she’d arranged over the bump on her forehead.

  Rita shivered.

  “My hands are probably cold,” he warned, flicking his gaze to the glass of ice water he’d delivered to her.

  “They’re nice,” she said.

  He pulled a penlight from his pocket with a smile and pointed it at her. “Follow this.”

  She trailed the pen with her eyes. “I didn’t mean I couldn’t think. Just that I’m thinking crazy thoughts.”

  Cole lifted a questioning brow, but put the light away. “One more thing, if you don’t mind.” He leaned closer, running his palms over her neck and shoulders, enveloping her in the deliciously masculine scent of him. “Any unusual pains? Anything that doesn’t seem right to you?”

  “No.” Everything seemed right to her.

  “Neck pain beyond the bruises?”

  “No.”

  “Double vision? Seeing spots? Nausea?” His caring eyes drifted back to her face.

  Rita’s heart pounded maniacally in her chest. Surely he could hear that. Could he hear that? She shot her panicked gaze up to meet his.

  Cole narrowed his eyes. “Do I make you nervous?”

  “Absolutely.” Though not in the way he’d meant. Rita had no doubt Cole could protect her from outside threats. It was her reckless heart that worried her. She knew already, maybe had known even before they officially met, that she could easily lose herself to a man like this. They were too rare, the catch every woman dreamed of finding but no one got to keep.

  He cocked his head, zeroing in. “Why, exactly?”

  She pressed her eyes shut, forcing herself to remember that Cole was only doing his job, and that what she wanted in a companion was so much more than he would ever give. A court clerk had caught her watching him once, and the woman had been quick to let her know she’d graduated with Cole Garrett, and he hadn’t even taken a date to prom because he wanted to keep his options open.

  If he couldn’t commit to one woman for a single prom, Rita’s heart was surely doomed.

  Then again, maybe a night in his arms would be worth the penance.

  “Rita?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Sandwiches? Soup?” Cole made a pained face. “I have no idea what you eat.”

  “What?” Her mind scrambled to catch up. “Food?” Shame burned in her cheeks. He was trying to feed her. To be a gentleman. And she’d been contemplating the value of her virtue.

  Cole watched intently. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re flushed again. Do you want to lay down?”

  “No,” she nearly screamed. No beds. “I like sandwiches.”

  He relented his too-close position with a shake of his head. “All right.” Cole returned to the business side of the island and opened his refrigerator.

  Rita pulled her wits back together. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to go to the sheriff’s department. I know I’m putting your brother out by dragging him here instead.” She focused on the extraordinary view through Cole’s bay window. An array of autumn-touched trees swayed in the distance. “I’m being ridiculous. I should’ve just gone.”

  “It’s fine,” he said with a grin. “Very little puts West out. He’s accommodating to a fault.”

  A cruiser rolled into view on Cole’s long gravel drive, and Rita’s heart stopped. “Cole.”

  “What?” He manifested at her side, then marched to the window for a look outside. “Oh. Here he is now.”

  “How can you know for sure that it’s him? What if it’s not him?”
>
  “The cars are numbered and his says Sheriff.”

  Rita worked the information through her mind. “What if someone hurt him and took his cruiser?”

  Cole barked a laugh. “Never gonna happen, but that’s a funny thought.”

  She shot him a crazy face. “You guys aren’t invincible, you know.”

  The doorbell stopped Cole from responding. “Hold that thought.” He opened the door for the sheriff, a man she also recognized from the courthouse. Equally handsome. Slightly older. Significantly more uptight.

  Rita’s phone buzzed in her pocket with a text from Ryan. His exams were over, and he still wanted to use her truck.

  She responded swiftly, insisting she was on her way to get the pickup now, and Ryan should leave it in the lot. She hit Send, then grimaced internally over yet another lie.

  After a brief round of whispering in acronyms, the Garretts approached her shoulder to shoulder, a six-foot wall of testosterone and unwavering confidence.

  Rita leaned back in her chair, adding an inch of distance.

  West pressed his hat to his torso with one broad hand. “Miss Horn. I’m Cade County Sheriff West Garrett.”

  Cole rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Call him West.”

  “Please,” West concurred. “If you don’t mind, I have a few questions about what happened to you today and what went on at the docks last night.”

  Rita looked at Cole.

  “Have a seat,” Cole instructed his brother. “I’m making us a little something to eat.”

  * * *

  COLE SET OUT an assembly line for sandwiches. He’d wanted to impress Rita with something better than a middle-school lunch, but he couldn’t think straight after the way she’d looked at him when he asked if he made her nervous. He’d wanted her to know that she could trust him. That none of the Cade County deputies would hurt her, and whoever she’d seen in that jacket had been a fake.

  But that look.

  Her cheeks had flushed and her gaze had drifted to his mouth and lingered. The dark, heated expression on her sweet face had done things to him he didn’t like. Not with her. The images clogging his mind weren’t meant for someone like Rita Horn. She was a good girl, and women like her weren’t supposed to look at him like that. They were supposed to want stockbrokers in suits with big-money careers and 401Ks.

  Thankfully, West had arrived to put his mind back into work mode.

  West took the seat beside Rita. “Did you see a cruiser last night?”

  “No. Just the sedan and two men.”

  “Today?”

  “No.” She looked to Cole again. A habit she was beginning to develop. One he liked more than he should.

  Cole plated the sandwiches and delivered them to the counter. “Cruisers have GPS. West can pull up the history. See if one was near the river last night or your house today.”

  West nodded. “Already done. None of ours were. I’m trying to figure what else the man with the deputy jacket has in his costume trunk. Good to know he doesn’t have a cruiser. I can’t have a lunatic pulling folks over.” He cast Cole a deflated look. “The width of the track marks near the docks line up with a standard sedan, but that’s as much as we can tell about the car that made them.”

  “I figured.” Cole rubbed his hands on a towel.

  West took a bite of his sandwich and focused on Rita. “What else can you tell me?”

  “I knew the victim,” Rita said. She shielded her mouth with one small hand while she chewed. “I saw his picture on the news.”

  “What do you mean, you knew him?” Cole asked.

  West shot him an amused look.

  Rita finished chewing before she answered. “He’d visited the municipal building a lot lately. I saw him there several times in the last week or two. I assumed he was a lawyer.”

  “Real estate developer,” West corrected. “Do you know who he was seeing in the building?”

  “No.” Rita shrugged. “I never spoke to him. He was just hard to miss, so I noticed.”

  Cole cocked a hip.

  West smiled against the edge of his sandwich. “Hard to miss?”

  “Sure.” Rita looked from brother to brother. “Most folks around here are low-key. Laid-back. They move slower. Talk softer. Smile more.” She pursed her lips. “This guy was different. Always in a rush. Back poker straight. Flat expression. Thousand-dollar suit. He was just...off.”

  West made a note in his pocket-size notebook. “Cole mentioned a person of concern in the café today. Someone who made you nervous. What did that guy look like?”

  Cole pressed his palms against the counter. “If we can find him in the criminal database we’ll get a name.”

  West pointed at his brother. “We can use that to see how he’s connected to the victim.” He turned back to Rita. “Would you know him if you saw him again?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll log on to the database with her,” Cole said. “No problem.”

  “Good.” West finished his sandwich and dusted his hands together. “I’ll head down to the municipal building when they open tomorrow morning and pull the surveillance tapes. See if I can find Minsk and figure out where he was going.”

  Cole nodded. “I’m still going to give the victim’s maid a call.” He tipped his head toward Rita. “I got off track earlier.”

  West smiled. “Let me know how it goes.”

  Cole stared. He could feel Rita’s eyes on him. “Yep.”

  “Well, all right.” West headed for the door. “Thanks for the sandwich. Text me if you think of anything else. Otherwise, let’s hit this again tomorrow. Thank you for your time, Miss Horn.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  West hesitated. He fixed his gaze on Rita and leaned in conspiratorially. “You’ve had a rough day, but if anyone can keep you safe, it’s this guy.” He winked at Cole.

  Cole made a face. “Goodbye.”

  West stuffed the brown sheriff’s hat back on his head. “I’m going to see if I can make a dent in the paperwork before the next disaster strikes. This has been some kind of day.”

  Cole agreed. He locked the front door behind him.

  “West seemed nice,” Rita said, heading back to the kitchen. She delivered empty plates and cups to the sink.

  “You don’t have to do that.” Cole squeezed into the space at her side and turned off the water. “Don’t wash my dishes.”

  She flicked her wet fingertips at him. “You cooked. I clean up.”

  “No.”

  Rita turned on him, petal-pink nails latched over the sexy curves of her hips. “Are you always so bossy?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his forehead, hating the irrational feeling of attachment coursing through him. Rita Horn was practically a stranger. Beautiful, kindhearted and sexy as hell, but a stranger.

  Cole relaxed against the counter. “I can pull up the database after I call the victim’s maid. Come on.” He motioned for her to follow him to the living room. “Leave the dishes. Make yourself comfortable.”

  “Fine.” Rita curled onto the couch and pulled a pillow over her lap.

  Cole punched the television on and went for his phone.

  His favorite movie was playing when he returned. “Sorry. That must’ve still been in the queue.”

  “Wait.” She waved a hand at him. “I love this one.”

  Cole fell onto the cushion beside her. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. This is great.”

  He stretched an arm over the back of the couch and worked the screen of his cell phone with his opposite thumb. “I think we’re going to be friends.”

  “Agreed.”

  Cole dared a look in her direction, ignoring the tightening of his gut. “Am I still making you nervous?”

  “Yeah.” Rita leaned against his sid
e with a soft sigh.

  A low groan wound its way through his chest. “Back at ya.”

  Chapter Eight

  Cole spent the night on his laptop in the living room after Rita had reluctantly agreed to get some rest in his bed. The second half of their day had been significantly quieter than the first, but twice as demanding of his professional composure. Thoughts of Rita in his room had been tough to keep at bay, but luckily the victim, Roger Minsk, had a strong online presence, providing Cole with the distraction he needed.

  Minsk had kept an active blog and Facebook account, and he’d contributed to a few dozen online articles about property development. Eventually, the deluge of information was enough to refocus Cole on the case.

  Unfortunately, two pots of coffee and eight hours later, Cole had learned nothing about Minsk that was useful in understanding why he had been killed.

  “Any luck?” Rita’s soft voice and vanilla scent immediately brightened the room.

  She shuffled into the living room wearing white cotton shorts and a Rivertown T-shirt. Her mussed hair hung over both shoulders in loose, unkempt waves he instantly ached to run his fingers through.

  “A little,” Cole said. He moved into the kitchen and poured her a cup of coffee. “Minsk’s maid finally returned my call. Alicia something.”

  “That’s good. Oh, thank you.” Rita accepted the mug with a puckered brow. “Why are you wearing your uniform?” She sipped the coffee and sighed.

  “Good?”

  “Heaven.” Her sharp hazel eyes popped wide. “Oh, my goodness. I have to call the office.” She scanned the room frantically. “I didn’t call off. I just never showed up. What time is it? Where’s your clock?”

  He lifted his watch. “It’s only seven ten. Municipal building doesn’t even open until eight, so unless you’re leaving someone a voice mail, I think you can relax and enjoy the coffee.”

  “Right.” Rita took another appreciative drink. “I guess I’m still waking up.”