She halted, and a look he was familiar with flashed across her face. Guilt. She’d forgotten all about her friend Izzy, he could see that. At least for a moment.

Concern instantly replaced the guilt. “Is she-”

“She’s fine. Evidently you were right about Carlos, at least as far as his feelings about harming nuns go. She’s back working at her clinic, none the worse for wear.”

“Her car-”

“I’ve made arrangements for it to be returned to her.”

She closed her eyes, put a hand to her forehead and breathed a fervent, “Thank you.”

Then there was a moment…a silent, awkward moment… while she simply gazed at him, lips slightly parted, as if there was something more she wanted to say. A suspenseful moment, when it almost seemed to J.J. she was leaning toward him. Then she reached up and touched his face.

He jerked back, and a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding came gusting from his chest.

“Oh. Sorry-” She pressed her fingertips to her lips but they failed to hide the smile that had formed there. “You, um…you had…there was some toilet paper. A little bit. Right there. I guess you cut yourself shaving. Again.”

“Oh-yeah.” He laughed without humor, touching the spot that still felt the imprint of her fingers.

“You do that a lot, I’ve noticed.” He could see the hint of a dimple in her cheek as she turned to begin strolling back toward the house.

He fell in beside her, and Moonshine hauled herself out of the grass and padded along behind. “Yeah…” he drawled, “guess I’m kind of out of practice doing that kind of thing. Shaving.”

She threw him a look. “How come?”

He snorted, thinking how dumb his little rebellion seemed now. “Not important.” He walked a bit, then tossed away a grass stem he’d been fiddling with. He felt compelled to add, “Might not believe it now, but used to be…back when I was on the detective squad…I could clean up pretty good. You know-military haircut, suit and tie…the works.”

She turned to give him another look, a longer one, this time, shading her eyes with one hand against the morning sun. A measuring look, he thought, and felt a curious stirring low in his body.

“Did you like doing that?”

He hadn’t expected that particular question, and had to think about it. After a moment he shrugged and said, “It went with the job. And I did like doing that.”

She didn’t say anything for several steps. Then, without looking at him: “Do you really hate it so much? Being out here, I mean?”

“Out ‘here’?” He waved a hand and managed a smile of sorts. “You mean, out there-in the freakin’ desert? What’s not to hate?”

She glanced at him, then looked away quickly, and he realized that for some reason his answer was important to her. And without fully understanding why, he found he really wanted to give her an honest answer, if he could. So he thought about it for a while. Then he said slowly, “Okay…maybe there are some things-one or two-I’d keep. Old Moonshine, there, being one. But…thing is, I liked putting killers behind bars.” A knot had formed in his chest, and he had to clench his teeth and use some force to push words past it. “I really did like doing that. And out here-” He hitched in a breath, forced another smile he didn’t feel. “Anyway, I really want to get back to that, someday.”

And you’re the one who’s going to help me do that. God willing and I play my cards right.

He was going to have to tell her that, soon, and start asking the questions that would change everything between them. Questions that would put him firmly on one side of the law and order divide, and her on the other. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it just then. Not yet, he told himself, without knowing why he dreaded it so. Not yet.

He noticed she’d gone quiet, and that the brightness and smiles had gone away. He wondered if she’d somehow picked up on the guilt he was feeling, which naturally made him feel that much guiltier. He tried to think of something he could say, something they could talk about, something…ordinary. Like…small talk. But he couldn’t think of a thing, and it occurred to him that maybe somehow their relationship had bypassed the small talk stage. He didn’t know if that was a good thing, or a bad one.

They’d almost reached the fence when she hitched in a breath, like a preamble to something momentous, and then came out with, “I saw a man, just now. Down by the creek.”

He halted in his tracks. “What? What do you mean, you saw a man? Who was he? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

She let out the breath in an impatient gust. “Because I knew you’d do this-overreact. And he was harmless-just an old guy on a horse.”

“So, why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I thought I should. Look, don’t make a big deal out of it. I was resting by the creek, and he stopped to say hello. I think he must be a neighbor-he said he knew my-knew Sam Malone.”

“Neighbor?” J.J. waved his arm in a wide arc. “Do you see any neighbors around here?” He paused, fighting for calm. “Okay. You said he was on a horse? Did he give you his name?”

Uncertainty crossed her face. “Well, no, I didn’t…”

He swore under his breath. “What did he look like?”

“Um…don’t laugh, okay?” He didn’t tell her laughing was the furthest thing from his mind; he figured she already knew that. In stony silence he watched her bite her lower lip, watched a smile duel with a grimace. “He looked like John Wayne.”

He smacked a hand to his forehead. “Oh, for-”

“Except old,” she added quickly. “Longish whitish hair…beard… But, he was nice, I swear. Quite a character.” She paused and added with a touch of defiance, “I liked him.”

He folded his arms on his chest and looked at her, and she looked right back at him, not budging an inch. And it took about ten seconds of that before he realized he wasn’t as annoyed with her as he should have been, and that what he wanted to do more than anything was haul her in and kiss her right where she stood.

“Well, okay-this time,” he said finally, on an exhalation of surrender, “but you need to take a cell phone with you when you go out from now on. Will you do that for me, at least?”

She let out a breath, too. “I was going to ask you about that. I need to get one.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay…good.”

Since it seemed they’d arrived at a truce of sorts, he turned to the fence and slipped easily between two strands of barbed wire. Then he put his foot on the middle strand and pulled up on the top one to make a space for Rachel to get through. She gave him a grateful look and stooped down to climb through the opening, but he could see she needed something to hold to steady her, so he just naturally gave her his free hand.

Hanging on to him, she managed to get halfway through the fence before she lost her balance. Then he had to let go of the top wire in order to grab her and keep her from falling, so of course then one of the barbs got caught in her hair. By the time he’d got her extricated from the fence and standing on her own two feet, he was sweaty and flustered and so was she. And somehow or other, she’d wound up pretty much in his arms.

For a long moment, neither of them seemed inclined to do anything about that, even though J.J. knew he ought to. That he had to. Because one thing he could not do was go on standing there with his arms around her and her body warm and damp and soft against him. Things would happen, then, he knew, that would make it next to impossible for him to ever put her on the other side of that law and order divide. So he mustered all his willpower and eased up his hold on her.

For a moment she stayed where she was, not moving away from him, just looking up at him, cheeks pink and lips parted, as if there was something urgent she had to say. Instead, suddenly she sucked in breath in a sharp gasp and pushed away, one hand on her blouse, right over her breasts. She glanced down at herself, then back at him, and backed away, looking like she wished she could be anyplace else but where she was.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, feeling like the world’s biggest jerk. “I didn’t mean-hey, it won’t happen again. Okay? I don’t want you to think-”

“Funny,” she said, her voice soft and breathless, “I was just thinking how sweet you were to keep me from making a complete fool of myself.”

She turned and walked quickly away from him, head down and ponytail slapping against her collar, leaving him as confused as he’d ever felt in his life.

One thing for sure. Before this gets any more complicated, I’m gonna have to find a way to ask her those questions.

Like, were you with your husband the night he was killed? Did you see who shot him?

And most importantly, what else did you see?


The baby was fussing.

Again?

Rachel groaned and peered at the clock radio on the nightstand. Big glowing digits proclaimed the time: Four o’clock. In the morning.

She rolled onto her side, and every part of her body felt as though it were made of lead. Even her hair felt heavy. Using all her willpower, she managed to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed, then stand upright. She shuffled the few short steps to the bassinet and stood for a moment looking down at her son. In the soft glow of the nightlight, she could see him squirming and waving his fists, his face scrunched up with eyes shut tight and mouth wide open, the very picture of infant displeasure.

“Hey, sweet boy,” she crooned, and even though her throat ached, her voice was musical and soothing as a lullaby. “How can you be hungry again already? I just fed you an hour ago.”

Inside, she was screaming, I can’t do this! I can’t do it alone. Dammit, I wasn’t supposed to have to do this alone.