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“You’re right about that,” Sawyer agreed. “Seems as if Weaver is just one more small town to become involved lately.” He tilted his head back, studying the sun that hung low on the horizon. It wasn’t quite evening yet, but the temperature was already dropping. “Much as I hate to admit it, we need help. That’s why I didn’t oppose your assignment here.”
It wasn’t exactly news to Max since he’d have done just about anything to get out of this particular assignment. But he was here now. He’d do his job.
He was a special agent with the DEA and it was one thing that he was usually pretty good at.
“I’m going to need the details about your discrepancies,” he told Matthew.
The other man pulled an envelope out of his down vest and handed it over. “Copies and my notes.”
Max didn’t bother opening it now. He shoved it into his own pocket. “Anything else?”
“Matthew!”
All three men turned at the hail from the house.
“Supper’s on!”
For a moment, Max thought the woman on the porch was Sarah. She bore an uncanny resemblance. But when she turned and went back inside, he didn’t see that waist-length braid.
“Care to stay?” Matt offered. “My wife, Jaimie, is a pretty fine cook.”
“Another reason why I’m out here,” Sawyer admitted. “Bec—my wife—is in Boston on some medical symposium all this week. Been getting tired of my own cooking.”
“Appreciate the offer,” Max said. “But I need to get back to town.”
“At least come in and say hello or Jaimie’ll bug me from now until spring. Everyone in the county wants to greet the new deputy.”
“Sure, until they start remembering the days when I lived here,” Max countered. His father, Tony, might have been the criminal, but Max hadn’t exactly been an altar boy. Getting friendly with the folks of Weaver was not in his plan. He was just there to do a job.
In that way, at least, he could make one thing right with the Clay family.
But after that, he and Eli would be gone.
Still, Max could read Sawyer’s expression well enough. The steely-eyed sheriff expected Max to act neighborly.
“I’d be pleased to say hello,” he said, feeling a tinge of what Eli must have been feeling when Max had lectured him on behaving well.
Matthew wasn’t entirely fooled, as far as Max could tell, as they headed toward the house. They skirted the front porch entirely, going around, instead, to the rear of the house. They went in through the mudroom, and then into the cheery, bright kitchen.
“Don’t get excited, Red,’ cause he’s not staying,” Matthew said as they entered. “But this here’s Sawyer’s new right-hand man, Max Scalise.”
Jaimie rubbed her hands down the front of the apron tied around her slender waist. “Of course. I remember you as a boy, Max.” She took his hand in hers, shaking it warmly. “Genna talks of you often. She always has such fun sharing pictures from her trips out to see you and Eli. I know she must be so pleased that you’re back in Weaver. How is her leg coming along?”
“More slowly than she’d like.”
“Mom, I still can’t find the lace—” Sarah entered the kitchen from the doorway opposite Max, and practically skidded to a halt. “Tablecloths,” she finished. “What’re you doing here?”
“Just picking up some paperwork from the sheriff,” Max said into the silence that her abrupt question caused. “Nice to see you again, Miss Clay.” He looked at Jaimie, who was eyeing him and her daughter with curiosity. “And it was nice to see you, too, ma’am.”
“Give your mother my regards,” Jaimie told him as he stepped toward the mudroom again.
“I’ll do that. Sheriff. Matthew. See you later.”
He was almost at his SUV when he heard footsteps on the gravel drive behind him.
“Max.” Her voice was sharp.
The memory of that voice, husky with sleep, with passion, hovered in the back of his mind. He ought to have memories just as clear about Jennifer.
But he didn’t.
He opened the SUV door and tossed the envelope from Matthew inside on the seat. “Don’t worry, Sarah,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m not trying to run into you every time we turn around.”
She’d taken time only long enough to grab a sweater, and she held it wrapped tight around her shoulders. Tendrils of reddish-blond hair had worked loose from her braid and drifted against her neck. “Believe me,” she said, her tone stiff, “I didn’t once think that you were.” She worked her hand out from beneath the sweater. She held an ivory envelope. “It’s an invitation for your mother to my cousin’s wedding.”
He took the envelope, deliberately brushing her fingers with his.
The action was a double-edged sword, though.
She surrendered the envelope as if it burned her, and the jolt he’d felt left more than his fingertips feeling numb. “Ever heard of postage stamps?”
She didn’t look amused. “Most of the invites are being hand-delivered because the wedding is so soon. Friday after Thanksgiving. We’re all helping out with getting them delivered. Since your mom’s in the same quilting group as Leandra’s mother, they wanted her to have an invitation.”
“Leandra?”
“My cousin. She’s marrying Evan Taggart.”
He remembered their names, of course. Taggart had grown up to become the local vet. Leandra was yet another one of the Clays and, he remembered, Sarah’s favorite cousin. If he wasn’t mistaken, he thought the vet had been on some television show Leandra had been involved with. More proof that Weaver wasn’t quite so “small town” as it once was. “I’ll make sure she gets it.” He tapped the envelope against his palm. “Eli told me what he did today.”
She pulled the dark blue sweater more tightly around her shoulders, and said nothing.
He exhaled, feeling impatience swell inside him. “Dammit, Sarah, at least say something.”
Her ivory face could have been carved from ice. “Be careful driving back to Weaver. Road gets slick at night sometimes.”
Then she turned on her heel, and for the third time that day, she walked away from him.
Chapter Three
Despite Sarah’s hopes, days two, three and four of Eli Scalise were just as bad—or worse—than day one.
He didn’t hit another student with a dodge ball, but he was still miles away from the model of behavior. A conversation with his previous school had told her that this was not the norm where Eli was concerned.
By Thursday, she knew she had to speak with Max about it. She hated the fact that several times throughout the day, she put off calling him. It showed her cowardice.
And since she was supposed to be thoroughly over the man, what did she have to be afraid of?
For another ten minutes or so, her students would still be in the cafeteria, practicing their part in the holiday program they’d present in less than a month. And Sarah had done enough dithering.
Nerves all nicely inflated, she snatched up the phone and dialed the sheriff’s office. But Pamela Rasmussen, her uncle’s newest dispatcher, told her that Max was out on a call.
“I can get a message to him if it’s urgent. His son’s okay, isn’t he?”
Okay was a subjective term, Sarah thought. “It’s not urgent. I’d appreciate you asking him to give me a call when he’s free, though.”
“Sure, Sarah. No prob. So, how are Leandra’s wedding plans coming together?”
“Rapidly.” Sarah was Leandra’s maid of honor. “She’s got so much going on with the start-up of Fresh Horizons that we’re all doing as much as we can to take some of the wedding details off her shoulders.” Fresh Horizons was Leandra’s newly planned speech, physical and occupational therapy program. It would be located at her parents’ horse farm, so they could utilize hippo-therapy as a treatment strategy.
“Wouldn’t mind taking the honeymoon off her shoulders,” Pam said with a laugh. “Think Evan Taggart was one of the last hot bachelors around here. Everyone else seems too young for us. Or too old.”
Sarah had an unwanted image of Max shoot into her brain. She knew he’d turned forty that year. His August birthday was just another one of those details about the man that she couldn’t seem to get out of her head. “Hadn’t really thought about it,” Sarah lied. “Thanks for leaving the message, Pam. Gotta run.”
“You betcha.”
She quickly hung up, then nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang right beneath her hand where it still rested on the receiver. She snatched it up. “Sarah Clay.”
“Sounding sort of tense there, Sarah.”
Her breath eked out. “Brody. What’s wrong?”
“Nada. Kid’s fine.”
She looked toward the classroom door. She could hear footsteps outside in the corridor. “Then what are you calling me here for?” She made it a point not to blur the lines between her real life and her other job. It’s the reason she’d been as successful at keeping that other duty under wraps as she had been.
Not even her family knew about it.
“Megan needs more schoolwork. She’s already blown through the materials you left.”
She wasn’t surprised. Her few encounters with Megan Paine had told her the girl was exceptionally bright. “Maybe you should just register her for classes.” Her associate, Brody Paine, hadn’t been entirely thrilled with the idea of homeschooling Megan. Presenting the child as his daughter while under his protection was one thing. Trying to keep the girl up on her schoolwork was another. Not even two months of it had made the man more comfortable with the situation.
“My daughter’s not ready for that. She is still adjusting to her mother’s death.”
Sarah’s nerves tightened a little. That was the cover, but she wasn’t used to Brody using it when it was only the two of them. Which probably meant that Brody wasn’t confident the school’s line was secure.
The man was notoriously paranoid when it came to things like that.
“I see. You know best, I’m sure.” Sarah wasn’t so sure Brody was right on the school attendance, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. He was a trained agent.
She was just a…go between.
It was a position she’d sort of fallen into.
The only good thing to have come out of her time in California. When Coleman Black had approached her, she’d been swayed by his passionate explanation of how a person like her was needed by the agency. She’d believed she’d been abandoned by Max and had just lost their child. She’d needed to count. To matter to this world in ways that had nothing to do with her family, with anyone else but her.
She and Brody had already discussed the matter at length. Who would expect Megan to be in Weaver, after all? That’s what made Sarah’s involvement these past years with the agency work so beautifully. Their charges—children who, for one reason or another needed more protection than could be provided through traditional avenues—could be hidden in plain sight. In Megan’s case, her parents, Simon and Debra Devereaux—both mid-level politicians—had been brutally killed earlier that year. Hollins-Winword had become involved when other means to protect Megan—the only witness—had continually failed. The sight line of Weaver was pretty much off the radar unless you were a local rancher or worked for CeeVid, her uncle Tristan’s gaming software design company.
Nine times now, she’d arranged the houses when Hollins-Winword contacted her.
Another agent—never the same one—came in with their assignment for a while, and then moved on when it was time. She never knew where the children went, only that they’d been found a permanent safe haven.
This time, the agent was Brody Paine. And it was his opinion that ruled, whether she considered him paranoid or not.
The footsteps outside in the hall sounded louder. “I’ll pull some more work together for her. Want me to drive it out to you?” The safe house where Brody was staying with Megan was located about fifteen miles out of town. Located midway between nothing and more nothing.
“I’ll pick it up sometime tomorrow.”
She frowned a little, not liking the alarm that was forming inside her. “Brody—”
“Appreciate your help, Sarah. You’re a good teacher.” He severed the connection.
She slowly replaced the receiver. When she lifted her gaze to the doorway, though, Max Scalise stood there. The sight so surprised her that she actually gasped.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Denying she had been would be foolish. She drew her hand back from the telephone and eyed him. “What are you doing here?”
His eyebrows rose a little. He wore the typical uniform of brown jacket and pants, his radio and badge hanging off his heavy belt that could also sport a weapon and a half-dozen other items, but currently didn’t.
She realized her gaze had focused on his lean hips though, and looked back at his face.
“You left me a message, remember?”
“Barely five minutes ago. I didn’t expect you to show up here.”
He closed the remaining distance between them and picked up the gleaming porcelain apple that she’d been given by a student at the end of last year. “What’d you want to see me about?”
She hadn’t wanted to see him at all. “Eli cheated on his math test today.”
His gaze sharpened on her face. “Eli doesn’t cheat.”
She pushed back from her chair and stood. Sitting there while he towered over her desk just put her at too much of a disadvantage. “Well, he did today. And he did yesterday. During the spelling test. He also tried to turn in another student’s homework as his own.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, making the angular line even more noticeable. It was only one in the afternoon, yet he already had a blur of a five o’clock shadow. “He doesn’t need to cheat,” he said flatly.
According to her conversation with Eli’s last school, that had been the story, too. Eli’s grades hadn’t been as high as they could be, but they’d been solid. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.” She pulled out a slightly wrinkled piece of notebook paper and pointed at the corner where pencil marks had clearly been erased and overwritten with Eli’s name.
“Any kid could have done that.”
She exhaled and reminded herself that Max wasn’t the first parent who didn’t want to acknowledge some imperfection about their child. “Any kid didn’t. Eli did.”
He tossed the paper back on the desk. “Look, I know his first day here wasn’t the best. But he’s promised me that every day since he’s been on his best behavior.”
“And you believe him, unquestioningly?”
“He’s my son.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. How well she knew that. “Yes, and it doesn’t change the facts,” she finally said, and hated that the words sounded husky. She cleared her throat. “Why don’t we three meet together, later. After school. And we can talk about it then.”
