by JoAnn Ross
“That’s understandable. Is that why you brought him back here? So things would move at a slower pace and you could get to know each other better?”
“No. Well, it was one reason. The real reason was I couldn’t be a cop anymore.”
“But you are a cop.”
“Not like I was… Shit.” He left the bed and began to pace. “I’ve got this heart thing.”
Faith felt her own heart lurch. “What kind of heart thing?”
“It bounces around when I get under a lot of stress. The doc said it wouldn’t kill me or anything, but it’s as annoying as hell.”
“I can imagine.”
“The doctor also suggested yoga.”
As serious as this conversation was, Faith couldn’t quite keep the smile from her lips. “Well, I’m sure you leaped at that suggestion.”
“What the hell do you think?”
“Let me just take a wild guess.” She paused, “I’d say no.”
“Good guess.” His fist closed at his side. “That’s not all.”
“All right.”
“I lost my nerve.”
Faith couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Will, I’ve watched you handle two murder scenes in as many days. You have nerves of steel.”
“Look, you said you worked a police beat, right?”
“That’s right. In Wichita.”
“Ever know any vice cops?”
“Some. They’re all cowboys.” She remembered she just happened to be sitting in a bed in a ranch house. “And I mean that in a good way.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. Flexed his fingers. “It wouldn’t matter if you meant it the way most people do. Gray—he was my partner—and I were, well, I guess you could say we were two of the more unorthodox cops in the department. We pretty much wrote our own rules. Ran our own show. Both of us got off on the adrenaline buzz.”
“Busting drug dealers and sex rings would probably be more exciting than dusting windowsills for burglars’ fingerprints.”
“Tell me about it. The thing is, we used to have this competition, who got to go up the stairs first, kick in the most doors. After three months of getting in each other’s way, we finally decided to assign the job with a coin toss.”
“That sounds fair,” she decided.
“The first day I got back, after the shooting, Gray went ahead and gave me the lead position on a drug bust without doing the flip. He figured I deserved the honor.”
“I’m not sure I wouldn’t rather have balloons and a cake, but, hey, whatever works.”
“I froze.”
“I see.” She did, and her heart went out to him. “I’m sure that’s not so unusual. Obviously, you had something like post-traumatic stress, or—”
“That’s not it. Well, maybe I did, somewhat. ’Cause I do have this damn glitchy heart. But the thing was, that right before I went to kick in the door, it dawned on me that if that Mexican drug dealer had aimed just an inch to the right, I could’ve died.”
“That would get anyone’s attention.”
“You’re still not getting it.” He looked up at the ceiling either to seek patience or try to find the words to explain it. “But that’s okay, because I wouldn’t have either, if it hadn’t happened to me. The thing is, what flashed through my mind was that if I died, Josh would be an orphan. He’d be all alone in the world. And that’s when the goddamn heart thing started up.”
“Oh. Wow.” She shook her head. “Couldn’t you have just switched to another job in the police department that was a bit less dangerous?”
“I could have. But I would’ve hated watching other guys go out on my cases. And while I’ll admit to not being the most introspective guy on the planet, I figured out that if I hated my work, I’d pretty much hate my life, and what kind of father would that make me?”
“Don’t ask me,” Faith said. “I never had a father.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“You had nothing to do with it. Besides, I moved past that part of my life a very long time ago. Though,” she added on afterthought, “it is why I can identify a bit with what Josh is going through.”
“It hasn’t been easy on him,” Will agreed. “From what I’ve been able to tell from the little he’s been willing to share with me, he pretty much raised himself.”
“So it seems. Which just goes to show what a good lad he is, deep down. Because he could be a lot worse than he is.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that. But I decided that keeping him down in the city, even a smaller one, left to his own devices while I worked all bright, wasn’t the best thing. So I moved here. To keep him out of trouble.”
“Well.” She blew out a breath. “You know what they say about best-laid plans.” She held out a hand to him, about to see if she could tempt him back to bed, when they heard the front door open.
Although the article she’d been able to locate on him had mentioned his many commendations, Faith was surprised by how fast he’d grabbed the Glock from the bedside table.
Once a cop, always a cop.
“Dad?”
“Oh, my God. It’s Josh,” Faith said with a sinking heart.
“Guess I should have had Dad call when they were starting back.” Will reached for his jeans. “Now I’m glad I never got around to oiling those door hinges.”
“You can’t let him know I’m here!”
“Faith. There’s a forest green Explorer parked outside. I think that might just give the kid a clue that you’re on the premises.”
“Well, you’ll just have to think of something!” She began quickly gathering up her scattered clothing. Where the hell were her underpants?
“Actually, I am.” He rubbed his unshaven jaw as he watched her shimmying beneath the bed to retrieve her underwear. “I’m thinking that you have one fine ass. Maybe if we just ignore the kid, he’ll go away.”
“Will!” She raised up, banging her head on the bed rail. “This is not funny.”
“It’s not exactly a tragedy either.” He reached down, held out a hand, lifted her back to her feet, and drew her close. “In case you’ve forgotten, my son has admitted to having had sex. That being the case, I don’t think he’s going to be shocked or appalled to discover his father with the sexiest woman in Hazard.”
“Good try, Sheriff.” She slapped a hand against his chest. “But flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere in this case.” She pulled away and yanked the underpants up her legs, not bothering to take the time to turn them right side out.
“Go stall,” she repeated. “I’ll be out in just a couple minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll tell him you’re getting dressed.”
“Will!”
He lifted a hand. “Just kidding.”
As he left the room—whistling!—Faith was tempted to throw the bedside lamp at his dark head.
44
“What’s Ms. Prescott doing here?” Josh asked.
“She just came over to talk about some stuff.”
“School stuff?” The defensive teenage tone was back. In spades. So much for hoping a day away could work miracles.
“Not exactly.”
“It was about me, wasn’t it?”
“We talked about you, some.” Deciding it wasn’t exactly a lie, Will resisted, just barely, shooting a glance down the hall. “How did things go with your grandfather?”
“Okay. We got the stock fed and found a couple breaks in the fence we got fixed.”
“Good for you.” Will’s hearty voice sounded fake to his own ears.
“He’s out in the barn. Checking the horses.”
“Never has trusted me to make sure they get fed,” Will said. When he’d been Josh’s age, that had pissed him off. Now he just accepted it as his father’s need to try to control his environment. Which had always been just as hard for a rancher as it was for a cop.
A little silence settled over them.
“I heard on the radio you haven’t caught Erin’
s killer.”
“Not yet. But I will.”
“Good. Is it true about her mother?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“From what she said, it’s no great loss. But it’s really weird.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“You think they’re connected? Or random?”
“At this point it’d just be conjecture. But my best guess is, yeah, there’s a connection.”
Another silence.
“So, where is she?” Josh asked.
“Right here.”
Both father and son turned toward the living room doorway as Faith entered the room.
“Hello, Josh.” Her voice was warm. Friendly. Having witnessed her earlier panic, Will was impressed by how quickly she’d managed to garner control. She was an even better actress than he’d thought.
“Hi. You weren’t on the radio when we were driving home.”
“Dr. Hayworth agreed to fill in for me.”
“So you could come over here and talk to my dad?”
“That’s right.”
“And that’s all you were doing, right? Talking?” There was an edge to the boy’s tone Will didn’t like.
“Josh—”
“I was talking to Faith,” he said.
“Her name’s Ms. Fletcher,” Will corrected.
“Fletcher?” Josh looked from his father to Faith, then back to Will again.
"It’s a long story.”
“Yeah, I could tell from how much snow is packed up on the roof of your Explorer. Guess it takes a lot of time to tell a story when you have to keep stopping to fuck.”
“Josh.” Will’s tone was a razor, slashing sharp. “That's no way to talk to a lady.”
“Well, I can’t see how that’s any problem. Since if you ask me, rolling around in the sack with a guy who’s supposed to be solving the murder of an innocent teenage girl isn’t real ladylike behavior.”
“Dammit, Josh—”
“No, Will.” Faith reached out to touch Josh’s arm. “I understand how you must feel, but—”
“The hell you do!” Hectic red flags waved in his cheeks as he turned back to Will. “That’s the only reason you sent me away, isn’t it? So you could screw her without me getting in the way.”
“You’re wrong about that, son,’’ Will said.
Faith cringed at the same I’m-in-control-so-you-will-listen-to-me tone he’d use to talk a perp into putting down his weapon. It might work out in the field. But not on a son.
Josh shot them both a look that was pure steel. Faith wondered if he realized how much his father’s son he really was.
“Are you saying you haven’t been fucking tonight?”
“Watch your language,” Will warned.
“You don’t understand,” Faith said, reaching for him again.
“Now there’s where you’re wrong, Ms. Prescott. Or Fletcher. Or whatever the hell your name is!” He jerked away from her light touch. “I’ve had a lot of practice understanding about being in the way. Next time you decide to lie about having sex, Dad”—he heaped scorn on the word—“you might not want to go giving your girlfriend a fuckin’ hickey!”
He stormed away, out into the snow, slamming the door behind him.
“Will!” Faith ran to the door, watching as Josh ran across the snowy field. “You have to stop him.”
“He’s not going to go far,” Will assured her. “The keys to his truck are hanging on a hook in the kitchen. Dad’s undoubtedly got the ones to his truck with him, and I’ve got the Jeep keys.” Faith heard a jangling when he rattled his pocket. “He needs to be alone right now.”
“That’s the problem, Will. He’s been alone too much.”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, now can I?” he asked reasonably. “Meanwhile, the icy air will cool him down.”
“I still don’t think—”
“Faith.” He drew her into his arms. Rubbed his broad hands up and down her back. “He’ll get over it.”
“Get over what?” Jim Bridger asked as he came into the house, stomping snow off his boots onto the mat just inside the door.
“It’s one of those things where you had to be there,” Will said.
As Jim Bridget’s shrewd blue eyes took in the situation, Faith resisted, just barely, the urge to lift her hand to cover the love bite Will had given her.
“Gotta go unpack,” Jim said. He touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Prescott.”
Will started to correct him. “It’s—”
“It was good to see you, too, Mr. Bridger,” Faith said, cutting off Will’s planned correction.
He immediately nodded in silent agreement that perhaps there’d been enough honesty and openness for one evening.
45
The wind was back, roaring over the top of the Rockies like a freight train, barreling into the valley below, bringing with it the season’s first blizzard.
As it rattled the windowpanes and pelted the glass with needlelike snow, Faith stood at the kitchen sink, peeling carrots for the beef stew, thinking what a difference two days could make.
The night the wind had suddenly stopped, she’d been a runaway wife who feared for her life, was living a lie, and was desperately attracted to a man she’d spent months trying to avoid because there was no way she could see how they could ever be together.
Now, although there were still some barriers to overcome—such as Will capturing the man who’d murdered Erin Gallagher and her mother—and Josh coming to terms with hers and Will’s relationship, things were definitely looking up.
She’d always regret having inadvertently hurt Sal. The ironic thing was that she’d actually married him partly to make up for having disappointed him in the first place.
When he’d shown up at the hotel to tell her he’d captured her stalker, she’d been relieved. Grateful. So much so she’d even tried to make love with him. The only problem was that part of how she’d survived all those years was to separate sex from emotion. By holding back, she’d given Sal the impression that her lack of response had been his fault. That somehow he’d lacked the ability to satisfy her.
Which was partly why, when he’d proposed, she’d accepted.
Which, of course, she thought, as she poured herself a glass of the cabernet sauvignon she’d opened earlier so it could breathe, had turned out to be a huge mistake.
But she and Sal had moved past that. Amazingly, Faith thought they might actually someday be able to be friends.
And now she had Will. Who not only made her feel secure and happy, and cared for and independent all at the same time, but could make her fly.
“And that,” she said, lifting her glass to her reflection in the night-darkened window, “is something to celebrate.”
She wasn’t sure where she and Will were going. But she did know that they were going there together. And that was all that mattered.
She heard the whine of a snowmobile engine and was momentarily blinded by the lights. A man wearing a black snowmobile suit climbed off the sled.
“I’ll be right there,” she called out as the doorbell rang. Wondering why Will hadn’t driven the SUV, she pulled the white chef’s apron over her head, checked her reflection in the glass again, and with her foolish heart skipping like a schoolgirl’s with her first crush, went to open the front door. But not without pulling the curtain aside.
The male standing on her porch was a surprise. But not an unpleasant surprise.
She flung open the door. “Hey, Josh.” Although she’d been expecting his father, her lips curved into a smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Half-afraid he’d change his mind, she took his arm and practically dragged him into the house. “Tell me you’ll stay for supper! I’m making stew. It’s my first try. Usually I just nuke some frozen dinner in the microwave, but Rayanne, down at the market, assured me stew is as easy as pie. Of course, the problem with that analogy is that I’ve no idea how to bake
a pie, but…”
She stopped. Drew in a breath. “I’m babbling.”
“Yeah. You seem to be.” He’d taken off the thick jacket and insulated pants and hung them on the hooks beside the door. Stomped the snow off his boots.
He looked so like his father, with that hint of amusement dancing in his heavily hooded eyes. Oh, his might be blue, like his grandfather’s, while his father’s were that deep obsidian, but there was no mistaking the resemblance. Women were going to go crazy over this one, she thought.
“Just a little,” he qualified.
“I’m nervous.” She rubbed her suddenly moist hands on the front of her brown corduroy slacks.
“Yeah, me, too.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He dragged his hand through his hair in a gesture she recognized all too well. “I owe you a huge apology. I acted like a jerk.”
“You were upset. It’s understandable. And you’re right, your father didn’t send you away solely to fix fences. He wanted to keep you away from the press until he had the murderer behind bars. Not because you were a suspect, but because he loves you. He might not have fully figured out how to say it, yet, but he does.”
“I thought he wanted to get away from Savannah because he’d been shot. But my grandfather says he moved here for me.”
“He did.” She had a feeling it was the first time an adult had sacrificed anything for the teenager. “Come into the kitchen,” she said. “I’ll pour you some wine.”
“I’m not twenty-one.”
“Well, of course you’re not.” She reconsidered. “But you’re very mature for your age. And it is just wine, after all. Not hard liquor. Children in Europe drink it with dinner.”
“This is Wyoming,” he pointed out. “And my dad’s a cop.” The grin was back. In his eyes and on his chiseled lips. Oh, yes, Faith thought. He was definitely his father’s son. “Mr. Law and Order.”
“Don’t I know that.” Her sigh ruffled her bangs. “Maybe I’d better get you a Coke.”
“That sounds good. Especially since I’m not real big on wine. Now if you happened to have a beer—”
“Your father’s a cop,” she reminded him.
