Shadow Point Deputy. Julie Anne Lindsey

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СКАЧАТЬ a long morning.”

      “And you don’t feel well,” he reminded her.

      “Right.”

      “Anything you want to talk about?” he prompted.

      Rita pressed her lips into a white line and shook her head.

      He levered himself off the chair and went to fish a card from his bag, leaving his finished coffee where it stood. There was little left for him to do if she wasn’t talking, and West could use his help back at the docks.

      She followed Cole to the door and opened it for him. Soft scents of vanilla and honey lifted from her skin and hair.

      Cole scribbled his cell number across the back of his card. “If you need anything else or think of something you want to tell me, give me a call. I always answer, and I can be here quick. Meanwhile, I’ll add your street to the other deputies’ patrol routes.”

      “No. Don’t.” Rita’s hand flashed up from her side, and curled around his wrist.

      He waited for additional information that didn’t come. “That’s it? Just don’t?”

      Her home had been ransacked, but she didn’t want to know the sheriff’s department was keeping watch?

      Her face went slack as she released him. “I’m fine. There’s no need to send anyone else out. Thank you for coming.” She practically shoved him across the threshold, then cranked the new lock behind him.

      Cole dropped behind the wheel of his cruiser and grabbed the radio to call in his whereabouts before shifting into gear.

      In the distance, a high-end sedan pulled away from the curb and took an immediate turn out of sight. Cole set the radio aside and reversed down the drive. He hadn’t noticed the car when he went outside to walk Rita in, and it hadn’t been there while he’d worked on her open door. Maybe it was nothing, or his attraction to Rita making him crazy, but something told him he’d better follow that car.

      RITA WATCHED FROM her window as the handsome deputy pulled away. Cole Garrett wasn’t the man from the docks and her office. She’d have recognized Cole anywhere. He was the one who settled fistfights outside the courtrooms and calmed criminals being loaded into vehicles destined for prison, and the one on his knees beside benches where folks cried over an unfair verdict. Cole Garrett was a peacekeeper and a hero.

      When the coast was clear, Rita kicked off her heels and traded her pencil skirt for a pair of blue jeans. She stuffed bare feet into white, laceless sneakers and grabbed her laptop bag and purse.

      Five minutes later, she parked Ryan’s car against the curb outside a crowded café and wandered inside. On television, people being hunted always went somewhere with witnesses. The café seemed a smart choice. Even if she wasn’t being hunted, it surely felt that way, and her home was too quiet. Too vulnerable. If someone got inside while she was there alone, the invader would have complete privacy to do anything he wanted.

      Her stomach protested the thought. “A bottle of water, please,” she said to the barista.

      “Three dollars.” He set her order on the counter.

      Rita gave him a five and walked away. She chose a tall table near the back of the brightly lit room and climbed onto a seat with a view of the front door and window, and also of the muted television anchored near the ceiling. She should’ve told Cole her story. She had to trust someone, and every cell in her body said she could unequivocally trust him. It was stupid that she hadn’t. She dug his card from her bag and set it on the table. She needed to stop feeling overwhelmed and start figuring this mess out.

      What would she say? Where should she begin?

      The white noise of two dozen voices soothed her frayed nerves. She rubbed cold fingertips in small circles against her temples, plotting ways to open the disturbing conversation. Hello, this is Rita Horn. I know we’ve only just met, but I wanted you to know that I think one of the other deputies is a murderer.

      She rolled her eyes as a silent peanut-butter commercial gave way to live coverage at the river.

      She dropped her hands onto the table. Her heart leaped into her throat. She scanned the room full of oblivious people, all pecking at their phone screens or chatting with friends. Rita leaned across the table, wholly focused on the scrolling text beneath the coverage.

      “Witnesses reported seeing members of the Cade County Sheriff’s Department and Coroner’s Office at this location early this morning. Crime scene tape and a number of road blocks have been put in place as the hours progress. Behind me you can see the continued presence of the CCSD. Our question is, why?”

      The young reporter on-screen pressed her fingers against one ear and dropped her gaze. When she raised her face to the camera once more, her skin had gone ghost white.

      “Sources have confirmed a body was pulled from the river just after sunrise.”

       Chapter Four

      Rita rose on shaky legs as images of the coroner’s van crossed the communal screen, a turbulent Ohio River in the background. An old factory and a dozen feline silhouettes anchored the scene.

      Her ears began to ring as she strode conspicuously to the door, bumping into people and chair legs while watching the television for any last-minute announcements.

      The wind was brisk and nippy as she shoved free of the coffee shop’s warmth and safety onto the sidewalk where anyone could see her. Namely a nefarious deputy and the other man from the docks. The one who’d had blood on his dress shirt. She hurried to the little borrowed car and shoved her purse and laptop bag across the console. Rita locked the doors and checked her mirrors before dropping her forehead onto the steering wheel.

       Think.

      The men she’d seen at the docks had murdered someone. She’d heard the splash. Seen the blood.

      And the men had seen her.

      She raised her eyes to scan the street and sidewalks around her once more, begging her mind to focus. She couldn’t stay at the coffee shop without someone noticing her imminent breakdown. She couldn’t go home or back to work. The bad guys had already been there. She paused at the thought. Bad guys. Was this even her life?

      “What do I do?” she whispered to her windshield. They know who I am. Where I work and live. What did they want? To kill her? Why? She hadn’t seen anything. Couldn’t even identify them. Though she had gotten a good look at the deputy who came to her office this morning and could give a rough description of the other guy—size, height, weight, but not much else. Her gaze traveled slowly to the bag on her passenger seat. The pen. What if it was evidence in a murder investigation, and she’d wadded it in tissues and stuffed it in a plastic baggie? There could be fingerprints or DNA evidence or an imperceptible thread. Forensics could find anything, and if the killers knew she had something linking them to the crime, they’d definitely want it back. So what should she do with it?

      She considered tossing it out the window.

      Her head spun as she pulled carefully into traffic. She should’ve СКАЧАТЬ