by Angi Morgan
Partying hadn’t been something he’d personally wanted to do for the past couple of months. But since Griggs had transferred from Jefferson Davis County, he’d been covering his shifts a lot. Covering wasn’t the problem. He got extra pay and could normally sleep on the back cot. Nothing ever happened in Marfa beyond speeding citations and public intoxication.
Tonight was one of the exceptions. He’d make a quick pass by the official Marfa Lights Viewing Area, drive back and get some shut-eye.
“Dispatch, I’ve got an all clear. Not seeing anything unusual. But I might as well make a run to the county line.”
“Okey dokey, Pete. This is Peach. See you in a while.”
He laughed at Peach’s official acknowledgment. No sense trying to get her to change. Everyone called her Peach. She insisted on it. Her sister, Honey, got the day shift since she was older. He supposed nicknames were better than Winafretta and Wilhilmina. They’d been in Dispatch for as long as his dad had been a deputy or sheriff of Presidio County. Or longer. His dad swore no one could remember hiring either of them. They’d just shown up one day.
When his dad officially retired, the new sheriff could request replacements for them, but he’d like to see anyone tell Peach she was too old to handle things at night around the office. A shot of regret lodged like a clump of desert dirt in his throat. He’d have to withdraw his name from the election so someone else would step forward. Galen Rooney had only been on the force for a couple of years and just didn’t have the experience needed to run things.
No matter who the county elected, they’d most likely keep him on as a deputy. If not... Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought past quitting the race. The idea of withdrawing gnawed at his gut like a bad case of food poisoning. He’d never quit anything. His dad—he couldn’t ever think of the man who’d raised him as anything else—wouldn’t be happy.
“Crap. What the hell was that?”
He successfully dodged a long object in the middle of the road. He swiftly U-turned the squad car, flipped his lights on and drove a couple of seconds. Parking across the road, he turned the floodlight until it shone on a black bumper resting on the yellow line.
Joe Morrison had raised him riding shotgun in a squad car. The mental checklist of what he did exiting his vehicle was as natural as walking. Even if Peach wasn’t a stickler for the rules, he still needed to let her know exactly what he was doing.
“Dispatch, I swung back west to pick up some road debris. Guess a bumper dropped from a car and the driver didn’t stop to take care of it. Almost sent me off the road.”
“Wow, Sheriff Pete. It’s a good thing we got that call to take you out that way tonight, then,” Peach replied through the speaker. “What if an eighteen-wheeler had hit that thing? Oh, gosh, and what if it had been transporting fuel or hazardous waste? It might have spilled and leached into the water supply. We could have had deformed livestock or mutant wolves running around for years without anyone knowing.”
“You reading another end-of-the-world novel, Peach?”
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Lucky guess.” He laughed into the microphone. Peach and Honey’s theories of espionage and Armageddon changed daily with each book they read.
“Well, I’m at a good spot in the story, so I’ll let you clear the garbage. Shout out when you’re heading back,” she said.
“You got it. And, Peach, will you stop with the sheriff title? You know I’m the acting sheriff until the election.”
“I feel the same way about my dispatch title.”
“Point taken.”
Picking up the plastic bumper from a small car, he noticed some skid marks on the asphalt. He flipped his flashlight on and followed their path to the gravel and farther into the flattened knee-high grass. A vehicle had obviously gone off the road. He tossed the bumper to the side and started walking.
About twenty yards away, the fence wasn’t only down, but a section had been demolished and disappeared. There was nothing in range of the flashlight beam, so he shut off the light and let his eyes adjust to the well-lit night.
He finally spotted the car, the underbelly reflecting the starlight about four hundred yards into the field. He ran the short distance to the vehicle. The driver might need a hospital. A serious injury, he’d need to transport himself.
“Dispatch.” Back in his car, he pointed the spotlight directly in front of the hood and followed the path through the fence. “Peach?” He raised his voice to get her attention.
“I’m here, just finishing the chapter. You heading back?”
“Looks like a vehicle went off the road about half a mile east of the Viewing Area. I spotted it. Driving there now. Check if there are any cattle around that could get loose, and notify the owner.”
“Time to wake the sheriff.”
“Don’t wake Dad. He’s officially retired.”
“You know that’s not going to stop him. Neither could a heart attack.”
“Give me five minutes to check out the vehicle, Peach.” And do something on his own without his dad shouting instructions in his ear. “I need to find the driver and see if we need assistance.”
“He’s gonna be mad,” she sang into the radio. “You know how he hates to be the last told.”
“My call.”
“But you know how he is,” she whined.
“Remember that he’s retired. Five minutes.”
“Yes, sirree-dee, Acting Sheriff Morrison.”
Yeah, but for how long? He watched the land closest to him, searching for ditches or large rocks. Closer to the vehicle, it was apparent it had hit the foundation of an old building. Whoever had been driving the car had been traveling at a high speed, hit the broken concrete and flipped the vehicle.
He approached with caution, flashlight in hand, gun at his fingertips. “County Sheriff. Anyone need help?”
No answer. Nothing but the cool wind.
He switched the flashlight, looked inside the car. One body. Nonresponsive.
“Sir?” He felt the man’s neck for a pulse. “Damn.”
Dead.
The body was mangled pretty badly. “You should have buckled up, stranger. How’d you end up in the backseat?” He’d seen weirder things happen in car accidents than the driver being thrown around.
Back at his car, he pulled his radio through the open window. “Peach, send for an ambulance. We have a fatality.”
“Poor soul.”
“Yeah.” He tossed the microphone onto the seat.
“Unit says they’re about an hour out, Pete,” he heard through the speaker. “There was an accident in Alpine and since it’s only a pickup they aren’t in a hurry.”
“Not a problem.”
No shut-eye anytime soon. He was stuck waiting here an hour unless Peach called him for a Marfa emergency. Fat chance. He’d get the pics they’d need for their records and maybe catch a nap after. He grabbed the camera from the Tahoe.
Careful not to disturb the body, he started snapping away, including the outside of the car and the tags. When he reached the driver’s-side door, he noticed blood on the outside and then the tracks, patterns in the dirt as if someone had crawled from the car.
“Anyone out here?” he yelled, tilting the beam as far as it would project and following distinct shoe impressions. “I’m with the Marfa Sheriff’s Department and here to help.”
He shoved the camera in his pocket and picked up his pace. Two or three minutes passed, the footprints grew more erratic and then the bottom of a shoe came into view.
“Hello?” He ran to a woman lying facedown in the sand. She was visibly breathing, but unresponsive to shaking her shoulder. He verified no broken bones and no wounds, then rolled her over.
There was a lot of blood on her white tank, but no signs of any bleeding. He dusted the sand from her young face. Smooth skin. That won’t go in the report. Caucasian. Short brown hair. Blue eyes, responsive to light.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?”<
br />
The accident couldn’t have happened that long ago. The hood of the car had been warm. Should he move her? There could be multiple things wrong with her. He ran his hands over her body checking for broken bones. She wasn’t responding to stimulation. She needed immediate care and the ambulance was an hour out. That sealed it. He scooped her into his arms and rushed her back to his car.
Once he had her buckled, he picked up the microphone. “Peach!”
He returned along the same tire tracks, picking up his speed since he knew the path was clear.
“Bored already?” Peach asked.
“I’m transporting a survivor to Alpine General. Found her fifty yards or so from the car.”
“Lord have mercy. I’ll let them know you’re on your way.”
The car hit a bump and he heard a moan and mumbling from next to him. Good sign. “Hang in there, ma’am.”
Slowing as he hit the road’s pavement, he could swear the woman begged him not to let the aliens get her.
The Marfa Lights sure did attract a lot of kooks.
Chapter Three
“I’ve told you several times now, I’m not sure what rammed me off the road. It had to be a chopper, but the lights blinded me and I never got a good look at what model.”
Everyone seemed to know the man who had brought Andrea to the hospital. He leaned his broad shoulders against the wall closest to the door. He’d scribbled notes and asked questions while the doctors looked her over. And almost every other sentence had been spent correcting someone congratulating him for his new position as sheriff.
Pardon, acting sheriff.
A sprained wrist, a minor concussion and dirty clothes, that was the extent of her accident injuries. Her favorite jeans were ruined. Not to mention Sharon’s car.
The nurse said she could get her a hospital gown, but the good-looking deputy hadn’t offered to leave the room while she changed. Ruined and filthy clothes would just have to do. She’d feel too open and exposed in front of Acting Sheriff Pete Morrison.
It was hardly fair to have such an attractive lawman interrogating her. It made her mind wander to forbidden topics, so it was much safer to remain completely covered.
“How tall are you?” he asked, flipping another page in his notebook.
“Five-nine. How could that be important?” As tall as she was, she’d have to tiptoe to kiss him. What was wrong with her thinking? Had she hit her head a little too hard? Of course she had. Hello. Concussion!
“Just being thorough.”
She watched him sort of hide a grin, draw his brows together in concentration and drop his gaze to her chest. So he’d noticed the pink bra? No worries. Why? Because he’s extremely cute, that’s why.
“You’re certain you didn’t hear anything? The man who ‘came from the desert,’ as you put it, he didn’t say anything?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. By the way, how is that guy doing? Is he still in surgery? I keep asking, but no one seems to know anything about him. This is the only hospital, right?”
The nurse looked confused when Andrea had asked earlier. This time she turned to the sheriff, who shook his head, then shrugged. Everyone coming into the room had looked to the young sheriff for permission to speak and been denied.
“Can you tell us who your friend is?” he asked, flashing bright blue eyes her direction.
“Check your notes, Sheriff Morrison. I’m certain I told you he wasn’t my friend. That was sometime between having my temperature taken and my wrist x-rayed.”
“Yes, ma’am, you did say that.” The sheriff looked at his notes and flipped to the previous page. “No need to call me Sheriff. Pete will do.”
“Guess there’s nothing wrong with her memory, Pete,” the nurse said as she continued to wrap Andrea’s left hand, pausing several times to smile at the hunky man.
Andrea had regained consciousness in the emergency room with a horrible smell wafting under her nose. It wasn’t her first time for smelling salts. She’d gotten rammed a couple of times as a shortstop on the softball field in college. She could just imagine what her mother would say when she told her parents about this sprain. Peggy Allen would be glad her daughter was uninjured and it was simply a miracle how her middle daughter had managed to avoid a car accident until the ripe old age of twenty-six.
Not a miracle to her father, who had taught her how to drive like a naval aviator late for a launch at NASA. That was a phone call she dreaded. At least it could wait until morning. No sense worrying her parents tonight.
“How’s that, Miss Allen?” the nurse asked, securing the last bit of elastic bandage around her wrist. Miraculously—to use her mother’s word—the slight ache was the only pain she experienced. Other than a headache from the concussion.
“Great. Thanks. Can I go now?”
“I just need to get the doctor’s signature and I can get your discharge papers.” The nurse put her supplies away, smiled prettily again at the annoying officer. “See you, Pete.”
“What’s your hurry?” the good-looking man asked as she left.
At first she thought he was flirting with the nurse. He dipped his dimpled chin, raised his eyebrows, expectantly waiting...
“Oh, you mean me? I’m not overly fond of hospitals.” Oh, Lordy, he really had a dimpled chin. She was a sucker for that little cleft under rugged, nice lips. Whoa.
How could his straight brows rise even higher? It was as if getting asked a question made him feel guilty for not answering, or he assumed she’d seen a lot of hospitals. Either way, she immediately regretted giving the officer any insight into her character. “The answer to your question, Sheriff, is no. I haven’t escaped from a loony bin. I told you, I’m a PhD candidate working at the McDonald Observatory.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
“Your face says enough without your lips moving.” She covered her mouth with her good hand to make herself shut up. The annoying man just laughed and grinned even bigger. “What are you waiting on, anyway? I told you I can phone and get a ride home. The student I was covering for is already in Alpine. Somewhere.”
He pulled a cell from his pocket. “Use mine.”
She held her hand out, wincing at the soreness already setting into her muscles. It didn’t matter, she had no idea what Sharon’s number was without recovering her cell from the Viewing Area.
“I don’t know her number.”
She hated to think what a cab ride to the north side of Fort Davis would cost. If they even had cabs in Alpine, Texas, that traveled the fifty miles or so outside the city. She’d probably have to bribe the driver by paying him double.
“We tried to locate the owner of the car, but the listing is in Austin.”
“I did mention she’s a student.”
He stood straighter, slipping the cell back in his chest pocket. “To answer your question, I’m still here because I need your official statement and I thought you might need a ride back to wherever you’re staying in Fort Davis.”
“Oh. Thanks. That’s very considerate of you. I’m at the observatory, actually. I guess you do things differently here.”
“Spent a lot of time with the law back home?”
She just stared at him. The man was actually being extremely nice. And seemed to be charming. Part of his expressive nature, she surmised.
“We’d never get along.” She clamped her hand over her mouth again.
“I don’t know about that. I like a woman who speaks her mind. Kinda refreshing.”
“They gave me a pain pill. It must have gone straight to my mouth.”
He nodded and covered a grin by rubbing long fingers over his lips. “I was here before the pain pill. You weren’t exactly holding back then, either.”
For some reason she wanted to push her hands through his slightly mussed hair and see the sandy waviness up close. Wow. What had the doctors given her to make her think like this? She had to remain professional.
“Do you think I did something wrong, Sh
eriff?”
“Miss Allen—”
“Please, my name’s Andrea.” She checked out her torn black jeans and ragged undershirt still stained with blood, not feeling like a Miss anything.
“Andrea. We’ve done some checking.”
“Don’t tell me, there weren’t any planes or helicopters flying in that area. So I actually saw a UFO.” She was trying to be cutesy or sarcastic or just funny. A giggle even escaped, but the expression on the officer’s face didn’t indicate that he was laughing with her. In fact, he looked dead serious. “I’m joking, you know.”
“You did mention that aliens were chasing you.”
“I was referring to illegal immigrants. Or maybe I was just delirious from being knocked out cold. I never once seriously thought I was being chased by an extraterrestrial, something foreign to this modern age of flying machines. I study the stars. I don’t live in them.” Exhausted, she wanted to lie back on the examining table and sleep. “I’m here working on my last dissertation.”
The room tilted. Or maybe she did. It was hard to tell. She was conscious of falling, knew it was about to happen before it did. The heaviness of her arms prevented her from stopping herself. She didn’t hit the floor.
Instead, a firm grip kept her in place, then lowered her to the pillow.
He had the best hands. Strong, short practical nails. Firm. And she shouldn’t forget how quick. He’d taken a step and caught her as she swayed.
“Maybe we should talk later?”
“I’m sorry, Sheriff.” She rubbed her head and winced at the little bump. “I’m...sort...of...woozy.”
“Not a problem. I’m not going anywhere. And it’s Pete.”
“I’m Andrea.” She could really get into liking that mouth of his. “You have a super-cute smile. Did I—” A yawn escaped and she almost couldn’t remember what she was saying. “Oh, yeah. Did I tell you I like your smile?”
“I think you did, Miss Allen. I think you need to get some shut-eye.”
