Impulse (20 page)

"Actually, I just happen to know one.”

She’d toyed with the idea of talking with Drew Hayworth on a professional basis. Seeing the difference therapy had made in Sal, perhaps she might try it.

“
Can’t hurt,” he said.

“The same old Sal.” She shook her head. “Sitting here now, I can’t remember why I was so afraid of you.”

“Because it wasn’t me. It was somebody else. I’m not an easy guy to get along with on my best day,” he admitted, which w
as definitely an understatement.
“But that alien using my name, wearing my clothes and driving my car, and living in my house who showed up during the trial, hell, he’s lucky I didn’t shoot him and put him out of his misery.”

Faith had actually been afraid of that. Of the two of them ending up in the headlines as a cop murder/suicide.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she said truthfully. “But I’m also glad that alien Sal is gone.”

“Dead and buried,” he assured her. He blew out a long, obviously relieved breath. “So, we’re square on this?”

“Of course.” She zipped the bag shut. “I suppose the easiest thing to do would be for you to file for divorce in Vegas?”

“Makes sense. Given that you’re not even going by
your legal name here in Wyoming.
”

“You knew?”

“From day one. That guy you bought the phony IDs from? He just happens to be one of my snitches.”

“I should have known better than to try to put anything over on you.”

“Yeah. You should’ve.’’ He polished off his coffee. “So, you want me to talk to Matt Dillon for you? Straighten things out?”

The amazing thing was, the man meant it. Sal was still a control freak He probably always would be. But at least his efforts would always be for a good cause.

“Thanks,” she said. “But this is something I need to do for myself.” She covered her hand with his. “Thank
you.”

“For what?”

“For protecting me from that stalker who would have eventually killed me. For loving me enough to marry me.” She felt her eyes growing moist. “And for understanding that it just wouldn’t have worked out between us. Even without your drinking problem.”

‘You know what they say. If you love someone, let them go.” He forced a smile that didn’t reach his dark eyes.
“
You gonna be okay?”

“Absolutely.”

He gave her another of those long probing looks. "Yeah. I think you will. Finally.”

Faith knew Sal hadn’t been the only one with issues. She’d been running from her past all of her life, from town to town, station to station, never stopping anywhere long enough to catch a breath. To examine her life. To acknowledge all she’d overcome. All she’d managed to accomplish. And, equally important, what she wanted.

And what she wanted, what she’d been wanting since they’d first met at that campaign cocktail party at the Pirate’s House in Savannah, was Will Bridger.

“Some of us are late bloomers,” she said, thinking back on her conversation with Will, and feeling a deep pang of sadness that Erin’s life had so tragically been cut short before she’d had a chance to create a new life for herself.

“Yeah.” His gaze, as it swept over her face, was warm with masculine appreciation. He lifted his mug in a toast. “You bloomed real good, sweetheart.”

This time her smile was real and came from that hidden, locked-away place in her heart as she felt the last of those chains she’d forged link by link during childhood falling away.

“You know, for the first time in my life, I believe I did.”

38

“
T
he guy’s got it wrong,” Desiree an
nounced, looking up from her laptop. “It's not ‘tusk and claw.’ It’s ‘tush and claw.’ ”

“Well, that sure as hell doesn’t sound all that scary,” Trace Honeycutt offered.

“Ah, but I checked an online dictionary and tush’s old meaning is ‘tusk,’ so either our slasher learned the poem wrong, or he purposely changed it to sound more threatening.”

“You’d think slashing a woman’s throat would be bad enough,” Sam said, pouring another cup of toxic waste from the carafe. It was looking to be another long night. “Without having to tweak some Kipling poetry. Sounds like he’s using the
Jungle Book
as a murder manual.”

“I read that book,” Honeycutt remembered. “In Cub Scouts.”

“That’s where I learned it,” Sam said. “It was required reading in my pack on the rez.”

“Yeah, I think they gave the book to me, too.”

Will forced his mind onto the conversation when
what he really wanted to do was go confront Faith about the little personal-history item she’d forgotten to share with him. Like the fact that she had a goddamn husband.

“It was all about how Mowgli, the man cub, came to live with the wolves and had to get accepted into the pack,” Will said.

“Yeah. Akela, the leader, called two people to stand for him,” Sam remembered.

“Baloo, the bear, and Bagheera the panther,” Honeycutt recalled. “God.” He bit into a stale donut that had somehow survived since morning. “I remember getting goose bumps when all the wolves shouted, ‘Let him join!’ ”

Will remembered having his own thrill of being accepted into the Cub Scout pack during the nighttime, fireside ceremony. Belonging had been a big deal when you were seven years old. It was only later, after his mother, then Matt, died that he’d gone off and become a lone wolf.

“I hated
Jungle Book,”
Desiree scoffed. “All those stupid animals going on and on about rules. And the scout uniforms were creepy. Reminded me of little Hitler Youths.”

“I’ll bet you were a Girl Scout,” Honeycutt challenged.

“You’d lose.” She put a hand on a hip and fluffed her hair with the other. “Even as a child, I was an original. Why would I have wanted to join a group where everyone has to fit in?”

“It’s a guy thing,” Sam said. “We’re brought up to want to be part of a team. To honor the law. Just like cops are,” he tacked on pointedly.

“Touchy.” She lifted her blue can of diet Pepsi. “Obviously there are teams and there are teams. Besides, our mighty pack leader recognizes and appreciates individuality.”

“That’s the thing,” Will mused out loud. “If this guy ever was a Scout, and he’s using the book as any sort of reference guide, he wasn’t paying attention. Because the whole thing is about the importance of being part of the pack.”

“ ‘The strength of the pack is the wolf,’ ” Sam agreed.
“
‘And the strength of the wolf is the pack.’ That’s the entire symbolism of Kipling’s story.”

“And wasn’t there something in there about not killing men?” Honeycutt asked.

“
‘
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates and your cubs, as they need, and ye can,’ ” Sam quoted. “ ‘But kill not for the pleasure of killing and seven times never kill Man.’ ”

“That’s really good,” Desiree said. “Not the quote, which I still think is stupid. But the fact that you can remember it after all these years."

“Maybe the pack thing stayed in my mind more,” Sam suggested. “Given that it fits in with the fact that I’m already part of a tribe.”

“That’s probably it,” Honeycutt agreed. “So, do you think this guy might be from the rez?”

“Did you hotshots ever consider that perhaps this
guy has never read the damn book?” Desiree asked. “That he just went online and Googled up poems about murder.”

“Good point,” Will said. And one that Faith had already thought of. “But serial killers tend to be people who fit into the community.”

“Like the BTK guy.” Honeycutt nodded. “And Bundy.”

“Of course we don’t know we’re dealing with a serial killer,” Sam said. “Could be just someone who’s got a grudge against the girl and her mother.”

“Quite a coincidence the first two murders the town’s had in decades are bot
h in the same family,” De
siree agreed. “Both outsiders.”

“Yeah.” Once again Will considered how much he hated coincidence. “From the emails that went back and forth between Susan Gallagher and Fyodor Radikorsky, on the woman’s computer, it was obvious they were here to drag the girl back into skating.”

‘You think the Russian killed her?” Honeycutt asked.

“Doubtful, since we found him lying on the floor of his room in shock.” He’d been diagnosed with a kidney laceration and was currently in surgery to repair a tom urethra. “He’s blaming the Gallagher woman.”

“Lucky thing for the Russian that Sasone put those pieces together,” Desiree said.

“Yeah,” Will agreed even as he considered Salvatore Sasone’s arrival in Hazard to be one of the unluckier things that had ever happened to him.

“Think the coach was the other guy?” Honeycutt
asked. “The one whose pubic hairs were found on the Gallagher girl?”

“I had Jack get a sample before they prepped the guy for surgery. Right now, all we can do is wait for the lab results.”

“I heard Faith Prescott reading that message you wanted broadcast,” Desiree said. “Asking people to call in if they’d seen her with anyone the day she died.”

“That’s something.” He wondered if Erin Gallagher’s death would get Faith the news slot she’d professed to want so badly. Wondered if it would boost her out of Hazard into a larger market.

And why the hell should he care?

Because, dammit, he did.

He scrubbed his hands down his face.

“Will,” Desiree said. “You look like you’ve been rode hard and put away wet.”

“Now there’s a coincidence. Since I feel the same way.”

“Go home. You’re working on your second day without sleep. You need some rest so you can think clearly.”

“You have a problem with how I’m working this case?” he shot back.

“No. I have a problem with you running yourself into the ground. In case you haven’t noticed, Lone Ranger, this isn’t a one-man operation. So, why don’t you take some of that male-bonding law-of-the-pack stuff to heart and go home. Get some rest.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Take a shower. Get some
thing in your system besides caffeine and sugar. Then
come back to work. Meanwhile, we can hold down the fort.”

“She’s right, Sheriff,” Honeycutt said. “If nothing else, you looked like shit on that TV report from the lodge.”

Will figured he must look bad if even his deputy was daring to say a critical word about his leadership.
“Two hours,” he said. “Meanwhile, if anything at all comes up, I expect you to call me.”

“Yessir.” This time Honeycutt actually did salute, making it official. Will was now older than dirt.

“This honorable wolf pack member promises to notify the great leader Akela of any incident relevant to the pack goal of tracking down the Man killer,” Desiree said with a low bow.

Will shot her his middle finger.

Sam, he noticed, said nothing, but he knew he could count on the senior deputy.

The temperature had dropped precipitously since the impromptu news conference at the lodge. At least into the negative digits. Which had, fortuitously, driven the vultures back into the cozy, secure warmth of their dens. Given that because of the Ride the Divide race there wasn’t a vacant room to be had in town, he could only hope they’d had to return to Jackson, at least for the night.

His Cherokee beeped as he hit the remote. Will had just reached for the door when a hand landed on his shoulder.

39

“
L
et me get this straight.” Drew H
ay
worth leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. “You’re married.”

“Yes. But my husband is filing for a divorce.” Faith wondered if her excuse sounded as lame to him as it did to her.

“Yet you had no way of knowing that was in the cards when you slept with Will Bridger.” Well, that certainly answered her question.

“No.”

“And it was more than just a one-night hookup?”

“It was for me.” She felt the flush rise in her face. “As I said, we’d known each other before, but it hadn’t worked out. But when we were together, it just felt so right. I’m not entirely sure if it
was the same way for him…

“Wait.” She held up her hand. “Okay. That’s not entirely true. He said that what he felt for me was different.”

“If that’s the case, you probably should have expected him to be pissed off when he found out there was a husband out there.”

“ ‘An impediment,’ ” Faith murmured.

He lifted a blond brow, inviting elaboration.

“It’s from
Jane Eyre.
Right before the clergyman invites Mr. Rochester to pledge his vows, he asks the congregation if anyone knows of any reason why this couple should not, in the eyes of God, be wed. That’s when the stranger declares that the marriage cannot go on. That there’s an existence of an impediment.”

“That impediment being a mad wife in the attic.”

“Technically, it was the third floor. But I suppose it’s the same thing.”

“I may not know one Bronte sister from the other, but didn’t Jane walk away from the situation?”

“Yes. She left Thomfield Hall. Oh, she loved Mr. Rochester, of course. Despite his situation. But as she explained to him, principles and laws were not just for times when there weren't any temptations.”

“And Sheriff Bridger is nothing if not a man of laws and principles.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered.

“So, you should have expected him to respond the way he did.”

“In the beginning, I didn’t expect to have to say anything. Because I had no intention of getting involved with him.”

“Because you weren’t attracted? Or because of the impediment?”

“I’m married. I didn’t believe I could do anything
about that, at least not at the time.”

“Because you were afraid of your husband.”

"Yes.” She folded her hands and spoke firmly. Surely.

“And now you’re not.”

“Sal's changed.”

“Enough to make the marriage work?”

“No. Because I never loved him.”

“That’s got to be a tough thing to admit.”

She laughed, but the ragged sound held little humor. “It’s sure as hell not easy.”

“You wouldn't be the first person to get married for the wrong reason,” Hayworth said. “Undoubtedly you won’t be the last.” He stood up and crossed over to the couch, then held out both his hands. “You look wiped out. Why don’t you go home and get some rest. Things will look better in the morning. They always do.”

“I won’t get any sleep, worrying about what he’s thinking. The more we avoid the subject, the worse it’s going to get. I’ve already waited too long.”

“Which is why a day or two more isn’t going to make a difference,” he pointed out mildly. “You’re dealing with a damaged romance, Faith. The sheriff’s dealing with two murders which took place over a twenty-four-hour period. And a son who may or may not be a suspect.”

“He’s not.” Faith remained unmoved on that. “But you’re right. I suppose it would be selfish to expect him to stop everything so I can grovel.”

He smiled at that. Took hold of her hands and eased her to her feet.
“I strongly doubt he’s going to make you grovel, Faith. I’ve watched him since he’s come back to town. He’s fair-minded. He’ll give you a chance to state your case. And if things have progressed, as you say they have, he’ll forgive you and move on.”

Faith certainly hoped so.

“There is one more thing to consider,” he said, as she shrugged into her parka.

“What’s that?”

“His pride may be hurt.”

“Because I didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth.”

“He’s the sheriff, Faith. His sworn duty is to serve and protect. By keeping your secret, you prevented him from doing either one of those things. You wounded his ego.”

“Ah, the famously delicate male ego. The ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ syndrome.”

He laughed. “You just happened to have hit upon the one stereotype that’s unfortunately true. You can’t blame a man for wanting to protect the weaker sex. Even,” he said quickly, “when that weakness has been proven time and time again to be a fallacy.”

He toyed with one of the beaded pipe holders hanging on the pretty Christmas tree. “That’s one of the things I appreciate most about the Native American tribes. Even the ones who aren’t strictly matriarchal still share power with their female members. That’s something we males of European descent could learn to do better.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue with that.” She tugged
o
n
her gloves. “Desiree and I have talked about her
being
a police officer. She’s seen a lot of prejudice over
her
years.”

“I can imagine.”

“But she insists Will doesn’t have a prejudiced bone in his body.”

“Well, then.” Hayworth shared another smile. “He sounds just about perfect, so my advice, given only because you asked, is that as soon as he has his killer behind bars, you tell him what you’ve told me, about your childhood, and how you’ve survived it, and I’ll bet, rather than be pissed off at you anymore, he’ll admire what you’ve made of your life.”

“I hope so.”

“I’ve not a singl
e doubt.” He ruffled her hair. “
Though I have to say, th
ere will be a lot of men in Haz
ard down at The Watering Hole crying in their beer when you get taken off the market.”

“Off the market.” She punched him lightly in the arm. “Talk about your chauvinist statements!”

“Hey,” he said on a laugh. “You can’t blame me for the attitudes of these Wyoming cowboys.” He put a hand on her back as he walked her to the door. “Go
home. Get some rest. Hopefully by tomorrow the sheriff will have arrested the ki
ller, and everyone can get on
with their lives.”

“I’d love to go home. H
owever I still have a program
to do.”

“No need. Let me fill in for you.”

It sounded so tempting. “Are you sure?”

“Sure. Besides, I get a lot more interesting callers when I’m on at night.”

“The crackpots, you mean.”

“A good therapist never uses that term,” he said easily. “Although, I have to admit, some of your callers do appear to live out on the far fringes of normality.”

Since Faith could not argue that point, they shared a laugh. As she drove away from the college, she felt a great deal better.

So much so, she decided that although Drew had advised against it, she was going to drop by the Sheriff’s Department and ask Will to at least give her an opportunity to explain, once he’d wrapped up his case.