A Secret In Conard County. Rachel Lee

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      “Fair enough.” And it was fair. She didn’t know him from Adam. They’d met less than twenty-four hours ago. What else did she have to judge them by?

      “Oh, to heck with it,” she said abruptly and reached for the pill bottle she’d brought out from her bedroom. It was surprisingly large for pain meds. “One more won’t kill me. Is that trust enough for you?”

      Shocked, he fell silent. What was she trying to prove? That she trusted a man she hardly knew? Why? “I can’t figure you out,” he said finally.

      She smiled sourly. “Few can.” After popping another pill—a half? He didn’t know—she reached for her pistol and removed it from the holster, placing it on the table. “All better now?”

      “Not if you don’t feel safe,” he admitted frankly.

      “I haven’t felt safe since the incident. Nothing new in that. Might as well get used to it. You’re in charge now, Deputy.”

      That, he thought, might be the crux of all of this. A sense of control was important to cops. All cops. He’d just badgered her into giving it up. Smart move, he thought irritably. What now?

      Fifteen minutes later the pills started hitting. He could see it in her softening posture, in the way her breathing grew more relaxed. That much was good.

      “So you lived here with your mother?” she asked.

      “Yeah. When I quit the force in Denver and came up here, she was living all alone. It made sense to move in with her. She needed some looking after since my dad died. Things were pretty generally going to hell, and she wasn’t all that well. Diabetes was catching up with her.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Me, too. It was impossible to convince her that insulin shots and oral meds didn’t make it possible to continue eating down-home cooking. Stubborn woman.”

      “Seems to run in the family.”

      At that he smiled. “Good experience for dealing with you.”

      She smiled, really smiled. Oh, yeah, those pills were kicking in. “I’m a handful, or so I’ve been reliably informed. My bosses keep telling me to color inside the lines.”

      “A bit of a rogue?”

      “Not exactly. I don’t do anything illegal. I just don’t fit too well in the box.”

      A short sound of amusement escaped him. “The FBI seems like a strange place for someone who doesn’t fit in the box.”

      And at last a laugh from her. “It’s interesting, all right. They give me my head sometimes, because I’m good. Was good?” The verb seemed to perplex her for a moment. “Oh, man, the fog and unicorns are here.”

      “Try to rustle up a rainbow.”

      Giving another laugh, she settled into the chair as if it felt more comfortable now. The sight relieved him. She picked up her coffee and drained half of it, probably trying to keep her head clear. “The pain seems a long way away right now.”

      “Good.”

      She dragged her gaze back to him. “So no wife?”

      “An ex. Years ago.”

      “Same here,” she admitted.

      “But you said something about him stalking you.”

      She lifted both eyebrows. “I did? When?”

      “Your call from Fran,” he reminded her.

      “Ah. Well, he calls from time to time. Wants to put it back together. But he’s not the kind of stalker I’d be worried about. Just a minor nuisance.”

      “And this Tom guy?”

      “My ASAC. Trying to mix business with pleasure. Never a good thing.”

      “I suppose not.”

      “Definitely not. One bad marriage was enough. Mixing it up with a career would be stupid. I’m not always stupid.”

      He hid a smile. “Rarely, I would imagine. Maybe just since you were wounded.”

      “Oh, I’ve been stupid before, like when I got married the first time. I still can’t remember why I thought that would ever work.”

      “Love overrode reason?” he suggested. He was beginning to enjoy this softer side of Erin.

      “I can’t even remember that. I just know I don’t punch a time clock—I’m a bit obsessive when I get on a case and he couldn’t handle the hours. So the complaining started, and the more he tried to squeeze me into his box of expectations, the more I rebelled.”

      “A lot of boxes out there,” he remarked.

      “Do you fit in any?”

      He thought about it, deciding she deserved an honest answer. “I was happy with my marriage. She wasn’t. So whether that box fit, I can’t tell you. But I enjoy my work a whole lot, and piddling around this place taking care of things. So yeah, I guess I found a happy box.”

      “Good for you.” Her eyelids had just started to look heavy when she snapped them open again. “Can I get some more coffee?”

      “Sure. Want me to show you where?”

      She got out of the rocker more easily, and walked with a more comfortable pace into the kitchen.

      “Okay,” she said, “you were right about the pills. But I can’t keep taking them.”

      “Got it. Just remember, you’re not alone. You’ve got a team again.”

      “When are those guys coming by?”

      “Tonight. You’ll like them. They have a very individual box of their own.”

      Back to the living room with the coffee, but this time she didn’t settle. Now that she could move, she wanted to. He just hoped she didn’t overdo it. He watched her pace the small room and figured she’d probably love to get out for a walk. He wouldn’t trust her on the uneven ground out there, however. Not on those meds.

      “I had a little house,” she remarked. “About the size of this. I planted all kinds of flowers around it. All gone now.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      She shook her head a little. “That’s the least of it.” All of a sudden she faced him, feet planted firmly. “Do you know what it does to you when a guy in a police uniform shoots you?”

      He nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue.

      “He isn’t really a cop, of course, but the fact that he could get a uniform and fool me for as long as it took? That’s probably how he was getting these other women. Officer Friendly.”

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