Final Stand. Helen Myers R.

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      4

      Moths executed jet-fighter maneuvers in the blinding floodlights outside the back of the clinic, but their erratic movements were nothing compared to what was happening behind Anna’s ribs. She wondered what she was heading into. The temptation to risk making a run for it couldn’t be entirely ignored.

      I’ve told so many lies, how many more should I risk?

      “Whereabouts in Texas do you live?”

      Though spoken matter-of-factly, Anna knew there was nothing casual about the question, just as there was nothing innocent about the way Chief Elias maneuvered around her so that she was on his left. It was the opposite side of his gun.

      “I don’t live in Texas.”

      “That’s what the plates on your van indicate.”

      How close had he gotten to the vehicle? Not close enough to have looked inside, she assured herself, otherwise she would be cuffed by now. But she regretted not having taken the time to lock up the way she usually did. Gray Slaughter hadn’t given her the chance.

      “They’re Texas plates because I started having transmission trouble and traded in my old car before I ended up stranded,” she replied. It wasn’t the truth, but it was a logical explanation.

      “Smart girl. Mechanics always rip you off for that kind of work, and once a transmission is shot, you might as well ditch the vehicle. So where are you from?”

      Anna knew she had to give him something. “Louisiana.”

      “You don’t say? Huh. Still don’t hear an accent.”

      “I’ve been out West for several years.”

      He studied her profile, all of it, as they walked. “You an actress?”

      She focused on the building they were approaching and the single patrol car parked before it. “A failed one.”

      “I bet you’re just being modest.”

      The compliment would have been easier to stomach with less oil soaking it. “No, embarrassingly honest.”

      She could feel his curiosity intensifying, and tried to tolerate that by getting a better feel for her surroundings, what little there was. Not only was the town small, it was deserted. She’d missed the sign for the health-food store across the street next to the supermarket. Not surprisingly, there was a For Rent sign in the window. Next to that was a non-franchise hardware store.

      “Married? Involved?”

      “Not interested.”

      He grinned, exposing strong, square teeth. “Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

      No doubt he asked often, Anna thought gloomily, and with enough success to think women liked his brand of flirtation.

      “Did you shoot down Slaughter, too?”

      They stopped before the glass door of the station where all that was written was the white lettering for an evening number in case of emergencies. What she didn’t see beyond the door bothered her as much as his question, making her slow to answer. “Pardon?”

      “Are you going to pretend that I didn’t sense a little chemistry going on between you and the doc when I came in?”

      Here we go again, she thought. Never mind that she’d hidden her hair under a baseball cap most of the day and it had to be a mess, or that she felt windblown and dust-caked from driving with the window down because the van was a rip-off and the air conditioner was trying to die on her.

      “Whatever you think you sensed,” she said, frowning into the dark building, “you’re wrong.”

      He didn’t reply, merely reached over and opened the front door. But his arm came so close to brushing against her breasts, it was as good as a spoken taunt.

      In that instant, Anna knew two things: she wasn’t going to get out of here tonight without a confrontation with Frank Elias…and he was low enough to use his badge as leverage.