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“Where’s my Bible? Oh, heck, there’s no need to waste time searching around for the thing. Everyone knows that once a Benning gives his word he doesn’t break it. Besides, if anyone tries to say this ain’t legal, I’ll whack ’em alongside of the head with one of these tree stumps,” he said, banging one rubber-tipped crutch on the dull gray linoleum. “Now raise your right hand and repeat after me. I—and state your name...”
She remained more than a little confused, but Taylor took the oath and became the first female police officer in Redoubt, New Mexico. For the next six weeks she would be the only active cop, since her father had been forced to let Lew Sandoval go only days before injuring himself. As she looked down at the badge that he pinned matter-of-factly on her Save A Vegetable, Eat Popcorn T-shirt, she experienced another flood of doubts. Had her father done the right thing? She didn’t want anyone accusing him of nepotism. And why couldn’t he have waited for her to change into something more suitable?
“All right, out with it,” she said, accepting the gun he’d shoved across the desk at her. She began slipping the holster’s belt through the loops of her jeans. “What’s so important that we can’t all go to the house and get you and Kyle settled?”
“Blackstone’s out.”
Taylor gripped the Smith and Wesson .357 revolver as though it was the only link between her and oblivion. The last time she’d come anywhere close to losing control had been in her rookie year as a Detroit cop, when she’d held her first partner’s hand while an internist had sewn shut a knife wound over the veteran cop’s eyebrow. This felt worse.
She had to lick her lips before they would form words. “Hugh’s escaped from prison?”
“Hell, no! Paroled. About time, too. Damn Murdock Marsden for almost convincing the judge to throw the book at the guy. As it was be made sure several parole boards kept him locked up.”
“What changed things this time?”
“Apparently the old goat himself. He didn’t even show up at the hearing.”
That was good news for Hugh...and anything but for her. “Surely he won’t come back here. You said that Jane still has the feed store, and that running the place without him has been rough on her, but—”
“He’s already arrived, hon. Got in around dark yesterday. I hear Jane drove her old jalopy to Albuquerque herself to meet his bus.”
Suddenly it all made sense, and fury surged from a deep, dormant place inside her. “You sneaky, conniving—” She looked at her son now gaping at her. No doubt the combination of heat and anger was turning her face the color of a well-cooked sugar beet. “Kyle, go ask Orrin to show you around the station, please. Your grandfather and I have a few things to discuss.”
“I’d rather stay put. It’s not every day I get to hear you cuss.”
Wise guy. He was right, and she intended to keep things that way. “Do it, young man. Now.”
As expected, he pouted, but he left. Taylor shut the office door after him.
“Now, Gracie...honey...”
“Don’t you Gracie me. You’re lower than a snake, do you know that? Sneakier than a roach! All this pleading to me to come back because you broke your leg.”
“Well, you can see that’s true!”
“But you knew Hugh was getting out!”
“Who could say it was a sure thing until he got here?”
“Oh, you knew, all right. And you knew I would never have agreed to come if I’d heard there was the slightest chance of running into him again.”
“Listen, all I’m asking is that you go talk to him. Tell him that things are changed here more than ever, that the new blood in town sides with Marsden on just about everything. Tell him no way he can stay. If anyone can make Hugh Thomas see reason, it’s you.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong—and Kyle and I are out of here.”
She reached for the badge. Before she could unhook it, though, her father managed to shuffle around his desk again and gripped her shoulder, stopping her.
“Don’t desert me. Hell, all of the old-timers know and respect you. They’re glad you’re back.”
“How can they? They knew about Hugh and L”
“Yeah, and they remember your integrity even more. That will count for bunches, and they’ll convince the others no matter what earful Marsden feeds them.”
She doubted it. In any case, he didn’t get it. “I can’t be here,” Taylor said, enunciating slowly. Her voice sounded desperate even to her own ears. “I can’t face him again. What’s more, I don’t want to have to go through that—and considering what I did to him, I doubt he wants to get within a thousand miles of me!”
Her father gripped her shoulder harder. “Listen to me. You did what you had to do. Anyone with half a brain knows it’s only because of you that he’s still alive.”
“Right. I’m sure he thanked me every day that he spent in prison.” Taylor backed out of his reach and raked her hands through hair she wore almost shorter than some boys did. “This is a nightmare. What were you thinking? Didn’t you realize what you were doing?”
“Absolutely. You needed to get out of Detroit. I needed to keep this town from rioting.”
And for that he was willing to sacrifice her sanity. Maybe she could have managed somehow if there was only herself to consider, but... She pointed at the shut door. “What about that boy out there?”
“Aw, Kyle’s gonna be fine.”
Exasperating man. “Now you’re a psychic? Have you heard anything I’ve said? You made decisions that weren’t yours to make. I don’t want my son exposed to gossip and heaven knows what else!” She didn’t want to think about all of the rumors and truths that Kyle would hear. To think she’d believed their relationship on tenuous ground before. What a joke!
“I thought of a heap of things, Taylor Grace, and I made a judgment call.” Her father stood before her proud and unapologetic. “You understand the necessity of those well enough.”
Unfortunately she did. And, as a result of one she’d made long ago, Hugh had gone to prison. Because of another she had moved to Detroit. Yet another had brought her back here.
Her father must have seen the crack in her defenses. With a sad smile, he inched closer, this time easing his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t tell me there isn’t a small part of you that wants to see him again?”
“I’ve often wondered what it would be like to stand on the moon and look back at the earth, too, but you don’t see me climbing into a metal canister and letting someone light a few million gallons of fuel under me.”
“You’re worrying about the bottom line, aren’t you? You’re thinking that you were never certain yourself whether he was guilty or not, and how that didn’t change what you felt for him. Maybe now you’ll get your answer.”
“Curiosity is not an adequate motivator for something like this.”
“Bull. So why’d you try to contact him after he was sent to the penitentiary. Sheriff Trammell told me that Hugh’s attorney said you even wrote from Detroit.”
“Well, if he told you that, then he also must have told you that my letters were returned unopened. I think that was a fairly clear message to assume the worst.”
Her father sighed. “Okay, then. Let him take one look at you and maybe it’ll convince him and his mother to sell the business and move on, the way Murdock and his friends in the chamber of commerce have been trying to coax her to do all along. Shoot, Jane’s barely getting by. Except for Mel Denver and a handful of referrals from him, most of her business is from the reservation folks. Maybe that’s been enough for her, but I can’t see how the two of them will manage.”
Taylor suspected he was right, but that only made her feel worse. She had to ask the question she’d only asked him once before. “Do you think he killed Piers Marsden, Dad?”
He took his time answering. “Hon, he was angry enough to. And if someone had done to you what Piers did to Noel, I could see myself that angry. What’s more, a number of people considered Piers’s death a personal favor. Remember all those rumors about what a creep he was?”
“That’s not what I asked.” Taylor was no more happy to hear these evasions than she wanted to feel the familiar, dull pain in her chest. She’d believed, hoped, that she’d gotten over Hugh. “Do you think he killed Murdock’s son?”
Her father bowed his head, a strand of graying hair slipping low over his forehead. “Yeah, Gracie, I’m afraid I do.”
So did she, and that was the tragedy of it. It didn’t matter that, like her father, she’d understood the anger that would have compelled him to do it. There had been a moment when she’d first learned what Piers had done to Hugh’s sister, after she’d witnessed the poor girl’s trauma in the hospital, that she had wanted to hurt the bastard herself. The difference was, she had too much respect for the law.
“See, another reason I have to get this resolved,” her father continued, “is because people are saying that once word gets around that he’s out, the whole place will become a ghost town...especially after sundown.”
“That’s ridiculous. Hugh loved this town and most of the people who lived here. He’s not at risk of being a repeat offender.” Unless he saw her again.
“I’m merely repeating the consensus of opinion.” Her father gave her a sidelong look. “Well? Can you handle this for me?”
The sympathy in his voice decided her. She snatched his straw cowboy hat off his in-box and slammed it on her head. “I took the oath, didn’t I? What choice do I have?”
“Atta girl. Now make sure you tell him that I’m not asking for him to get lost overnight. All we need is some assurance that he will leave. Soon.”
Taylor handed over her keys and picked up his from his desk blotter. “When I get to the house, I’d better find you stretched out on the couch with that leg up, and holding a cold beer.”
“Can’t have any. Doc’s got me on damned pain pills,” her father replied as she reached for the doorknob.
“Not for you. For me.”
By the time Taylor made a right onto Main Street, her stomach was churning and cramping. If it wasn’t for Kyle, she knew she could easily have made a U-turn and directed the old Chevy for the interstate, she felt that much the coward.
Hugh. Heaven help her. Until minutes ago, she’d believed she would never see him again; she had buried the dreams she’d once cherished for their future. The news that he had gained his freedom should have sent her shouting with joy and relief...only, thanks to her father’s explanation, there was nothing to celebrate, and everything to dread.
Somehow she had to keep her wits about her, do what she’d been hired to do. The past couldn’t be allowed to matter. Nothing else could matter.
It was barely a mile drive to Blackstone Feed and Supplies. A left turn at Crooked Pine Road and she saw the metal building. The plywood doors of the warehouse were wide open, and as she pulled into the dirt-and-gravel parking lot she saw a silhouette of someone moving around in there. She drew in a deep breath to ease the growing discomfort in her stomach, killed the truck’s engine and climbed out.
He was restacking fifty-pound sacks of range cubes. A quick glance to her left and right to make sure no one else was around told her that her father had been correct; this was a modest operation. There wasn’t so much as a forklift to help with the lifting and hauling, nor was there that much inventory. However, as she got closer, she could see powerful muscles flexing and stretching across Hugh’s bronzed back, and realized that he wouldn’t have needed any help if the business had been larger. But then, he’d always been capable.
She didn’t like that her mouth went dry again. After fourteen years, she expected more from herself, regardless of their history. On the other hand, theirs was some history.
She had been the one for him, the only one who ever knew the feel of that strong, magnificent body against hers, and those callused yet gentle hands exploring and claiming. From the day they’d met as kids, back when their relationship had been about kinship and understanding, through the sweet, sweet years of discovering love, then passion...all the way to the moment the court bailiffs escorted him away, there had never been anyone else for either of them. That was a huge stack of memories for a woman to repress, even a woman with a profession like hers.
When she’d pulled up, he had glanced over his shoulder and recognized the truck, but he finished stacking the last two sacks before he faced her. Only now did she realize he’d been expecting her father. It was there in the way he suddenly froze. Because of where she was standing, she supposed she was little more than a silhouette against the blinding New Mexico sun. But apparently there was nothing wrong with his memory.
Finally, slowly, he began to walk toward her.
“How the hell did he get you to come back?”
She thought of potential replies. Since they would all require a strength and control she didn’t possess quite yet, she simply said, “It’s good to see you, Hugh.”
He stepped closer, so close she could smell salt, heat and man. Suddenly it all came back—the way he kissed, the care he took undressing her, how it felt to hold him deep, deep inside her. The memories struck like one tidal wave after another, until she wanted to slump to the concrete floor and weep for dreams and innocence lost. But somehow she remained upright, and met his furious scowl.
He glared at her badge and read her T-shirt. Sort of. Mostly his gaze raked up and down her, and she concluded years of incarceration had changed his tastes. No doubt he now thought her about as appealing as a telephone pole. It was only a guess, though; his sharp black eyes gave nothing away.
He finally settled his focus on her gun. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”
“No. I just haven’t had time to change into my uniform yet.”
“So that’s why you’re here. Funny how social calls mean different things these days.”
“Please, Hugh.” She saw no point in hiding the weariness in her voice. “I didn’t know you were here until fifteen minutes ago. I’ve only been back in town for about twenty myself.”
She hoped he could find it within himself to ignore the badge and gun, as she wanted to. If only she could reach him on the level she once did. As once no one else could. How furious she was with her father for taking advantage of their past.
“This is no place for you.” Bitterness and defeat chilled his words. “It’s not going to be a pretty homecoming.”
“Yes, well...I don’t know about pretty, but one thing it isn’t going to be is violent.”
“You think that badge and gun will stop the inevitable?”
He was starting to sound as though he was heading for the gunfight at the O.K. Corral or something. She needed to try another approach. “Regardless of what you think, Hugh...I’m glad you’re out.”
“Then you’re one of the few.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Isn’t it?”
His piercing, unrelenting gaze threatened to turn her into a coward. She suspected a scorpion sting would feel friendlier. On the other hand, he had a legitimate reason for the attitude. “We need to talk.”
Once again he considered her badge and the gun. “While you’re wearing that stuff? I don’t think so.”
“I’m willing to put the gun and badge in the car if that will help.”
Something primitive flashed in his eyes. “You can take off anything you want.”
“Is talk like that necessary? We were friends once.”
“Friends don’t send friends to jail.”
“I didn’t send you to jail. A judge and jury did.”
“But you told your father where to find me.”
“To save your life! To keep Murdock Marsden from ordering someone to hunt you down like an animal and kill you in cold blood. I won’t apologize for that.”
He didn’t respond, at least not with words. He did, however, close the few yards remaining between them. The lazy, almost insolent stride gave her ample time to confirm that he hadn’t wasted his time in prison, but had made full use of the gym. Beneath the black mat of chest hair, there wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him. Every inch of exposed skin was glistening, toned muscle. He’d been something to look at as a young man of twenty-two. Now at thirty-six, without a strand of gray in his black hair, she had no words to describe him, beyond breathtaking. But, dear Lord, his face... The hardness and bitterness in those sharp, sculpted features were too much to endure. In his eyes she saw a man who’d suffered every day of the fourteen years taken from him. This was a man whose entire aura vibrated outrage.
It took all of her courage to stand her ground, and she couldn’t deny a brief impulse to place her hand on her revolver. Making matters worse, when he stopped a spare foot away from her, she had to tilt back her head thanks to her father’s dratted hat blocking her view.
“When’d you cut your hair?”
The question came as a surprise, but it was better than others he could have asked. “When I entered the Detroit police academy.”
It shouldn’t have been possible, but his expression grew more grim; nevertheless, once again he took his time with this closer inspection. He lingered longest on her mouth. Once he’d told her that she had a heartbreaker smile and that her kisses alone could make him come. Older and wiser now, she knew men said things like that to women all the time to get them into bed. But Hugh hadn’t. She’d been the one doing the begging—for what had seemed like forever. He had turned her down each and every time because she’d been only seventeen then. Turned her down, although he’d said himself that there would never be anyone else for either of them.
He’d wanted to wait, and had shown the discipline to do so.
Until her eighteenth birthday.
Taylor almost sighed with relief when he again lowered his gaze to her badge.
“If you’re a Detroit cop, what are you doing wearing that one?”
“I quit.”
