One Good Man (15 page)

“He looked around, yes, but as far as I knew, he’d never been in the clinic, so I didn’t think anything of it. He was rather…twitchy, though. I wondered if he might be on drugs, yes. It wasn’t the normal inquisitiveness of a father dealing with child custody for the first time, immunizations for school, stuff like that. It was more like…he didn’t want to be there.”

“Why did you think he was dealing with child custody?”

“When I asked if he had his son’s medical records, he said his wife had taken care of all of that in Midland.”

Midland. Kell wondered if the man had pulled that location out of thin air, or if he had a connection to the city Kell called home. The city where Company E was headquartered. And in light of his earlier conversation with Jamie’s mother, the speculation about a leak in the department…

His gut souring as it churned, he checked his rearview and side mirrors before prodding Jamie for more. “Tell me about seeing the tattoo.”

She took her time responding, staring out the window at the endless acres of yellowed grazing land, acres too dry to sustain more than the few head of cattle dotting them. “I saw it when I handed him a card with the clinic’s phone number and office hours. He didn’t want to make an appointment then, or have me open a file for his son. So I told him if he wanted to have him seen before school started, to call soon. Our schedule’s always full this time of year. He was wearing long sleeves, and the cuff slid up when he took the card.”

Long sleeves. In August. Laborers wore them, in the oil fields, on farms and ranches. Construction and road crews even. “Did he look like he’d been working? Or smell like it? Sweaty, dusty, anything?”

“Not that I noticed.” She paused, added, “Oh, but his hair was clean. It kept falling over his forehead. Why do you ask?”

“The long sleeves. Whether he’s our guy or not, he could be working in the area.”

“An illegal?”

He grimaced, nodded. “Yeah, most likely. And if he smelled like plywood or diesel fuel or fertilizer or road tar, it would give us an idea of where he might be employed, who to question that might be able to identify him…”

“You don’t think he was on his way to work, do you?”

“I doubt it,” Kell said, shaking his head. “Were the cuffs buttoned? Loose?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “Why does it matter?”

Her exasperation only made the conclusions he was drawing that much harder to face. But he wasn’t going to deceive her, or hide what he was thinking. After all she’d done to help his investigation, she deserved his honesty.

“I’m trying to determine what he wanted from you. Hear me out,” he added when she turned to interrupt. “If he’s been here all this time, he likely heard about Kass Duren’s body being ID’d, and he could’ve been feeling you out, seeing if you would recognize his face, or his voice. Showing you the tattoo when his cuff slipped up could’ve been nothing.

“But,” Kell continued, trying to corral his thinking into words, “if he knew you’d been through the forensic hypnosis, and knew you’d remembered the tattoo, he very well could’ve been gauging your reaction to seeing it again, and the fact that you didn’t react—”

“Is the only reason I’m alive,” she said, catching up to his train of thought. “The first scenario would mean he’s been around all these years, watching me. And the second…”

Angry enough to spit mortars, Kell finished the sentence for her. “The second means there’s a leak in the department, and I dragged you from your safe existence out into the open.”

Traveling back roads she hadn’t known existed, Kell had stopped only once—in a town smaller than Weldon for gas. He’d told her the maneuvers were to guarantee no one but the troopers stuck to their tail, and the troopers were to dissuade anyone stupid enough to try tailing them. If the man with the tattoo was indeed their murder suspect, he’d have no bread crumbs to track to find them.

She needed to use the bathroom. She need to stretch her legs, her back and arms. She was used to moving all day, not sitting, not riding. She needed something besides the melted ice from their to-go order to drink.

But Kell was calling the shots, so she waited. His endless stream of questions before she’d told him she was spent, dried up, out of words, had made her situation perfectly clear. One wrong move—intentional or accidental—could undo all his precautions.

She was aggravated, inconvenienced, irritated, afraid. But she was not stupid. And so she pulled her knees to her chest and curled in on herself, waiting.

Moments later, she heard what sounded like footsteps on planking, and raised her forehead from the cradle of her knees in time to see Kell descending a set of porch steps in front of a small log structure.

Warm yellow light spilled from the doorway, illuminating his way to the front of his SUV. And then she remembered that he’d told her about this place. He fished here, hunted, holed up to get away.

Jamie lowered her feet to the floor and sat forward, waiting as he came around to open her door to the smells of earth and pine and midnight, as he moved into the bright wedge of space there and smiled.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

She nodded. She guessed she had. She’d drifted off before the sun had set, and hadn’t even stirred when he’d parked. “What time is it?”

“Ten-thirty or so.” He gestured toward the cabin. “I fed the generator and turned on the water. I need to haul in the food from the cooler, but that can wait. I’d rather you get settled first.”

She’d been out of sorts earlier, resenting him. Now she could only remember how thoughtful he was, how strong and kind, how cute. She climbed from her seat and stepped into his arms. He groaned and wrapped her up tight.

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I know none of this is easy,” he said, using the heel of his palm to massage the length of her spine.

She shivered, snuggling even closer. Being in his arms felt so good, so right. “I’m pretty sure life’s not supposed to be. At least not all of it.”

“Maybe not. But this goes above and beyond what most people face.”

“In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m not most people.”

He leaned back far enough to see her expression, and stared at her for a long moment, seeming to weigh which thoughts were safe to share, and which were best kept private as he brushed strands of hair away from her eyes.

She wondered about his private thoughts, if they mirrored hers in considering the possibility that they’d been thrown together by fate—and for more personal reasons than solving the Sonora Nites Diner murders.

But he gave nothing away when he said, “I’ve noticed a lot of things about you. Some of them you may not like.”

Uh-oh? “Such as?”

“You snore.”

She huffed. “What? I do not.”

“You do. And I’ve got the broken right eardrum to prove it.”

He was teasing her, she knew it, trying to keep things light. She appreciated the effort, deciding two could play this game. She pulled away, punched his shoulder, too emotionally spent to be embarrassed over what was more than likely the truth. “I’m sure that was just the hum of all that equipment running there on your dash.”

“Trust me. It wasn’t a hum.”

Okay. Now he was asking for it, she mused, fighting a grin. She could dish back to him as much teasing snark as he delivered. She stomped around him, heading for the porch steps, and calling over her shoulder. “I hope you’ve got an extra bed because I’ll be sleeping alone in yours.”

Behind her, he whooped and hollered and cackled like a hyena, and she decided then and there that she loved him.

Kell had left her backpack on the sofa with his, and brought in the food her mother had gathered at his request. He’d done all that, however, after tucking Jamie into bed wearing her undies. It had been too dark—and too late—to do any looking around, so she found her sandals, a pair of khaki knee shorts, a white camisole tank top, and then she found the back door.

Kell’s cabin sat in a valley; she assumed in the Guadalupe Mountains since they’d left the Davis range behind. He’d taken a long and winding circuitous route, and when the sun had set, it had made off with her sense of direction.

From the back porch, she could see the sun teasing the tops of the rocky peaks, and she guessed it was between eight and ten. Either way, she was surprised Kell wasn’t up and on the phone. She was also surprised at the sense of absolute peace that enveloped her as she braced a shoulder on a rough-hewn beam and leaned, arms crossed, into the railing.

The day would be miserably hot before it was over, but for now, she welcomed the dry warmth, the air that smelled of piñon and raw earth. She didn’t pick up wafts of spicy meats cooking, the way she did when walking to and from work and passed the Cantus’. She didn’t catch the scents of exhaust and farm animals that were constants in Weldon. She smelled solitude and comfort and calm.

She breathed deeply, realizing, when she finally heard Kell stirring inside, that her blood was stirring, too, in anticipation. And then she smelled coffee and smiled. Life. The only way it could get any better would be for her not to be in danger of losing hers. She didn’t want to lose it. Especially not when she’d just found her place and her man.

Oh, that sounded so good. Her man. She knew she was running on adrenaline, endorphins, and those hormones had a lot to do with her state of mind. The state of her heart was another thing. She hadn’t stopped thinking about Kell since meeting him.

Yes, he was working her case and that had brought them into contact. But her thoughts weren’t about bloodshed and loss. She thought about the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way his mouth did the same when he smiled. She thought about his teeth and his tongue, the pressure of his lips against hers.

She thought about his brothers. Brennan. Terry, whose full name was Terrance, he’d told her. She thought about his mother decorating his house, about his father teaching Kell how to cobble together a computer to cut costs—all stories Kell had shared over their reheated soup and sandwiches before they’d returned from Midland to Weldon.

She thought about his mentor, a family friend, being the lead investigator on the murder case, how Kell was now honoring Warren Sheets by continuing his work. He was an honorable man, her Kell. A good man she was going to fight for. Now that she’d had a taste of the real thing, she couldn’t see herself settling comfortably into spinsterhood, even with a daily cup of tea with JB, and a calico cat for company.

Behind her, the door onto the railed and covered porch opened, and Kell came out, two cups of coffee in hand. He had on jeans. Worn jeans. Tight jeans. The lower legs bunched at the tops of his boots. His gray athletic T-shirt hung loose. She didn’t know if she was happier to see him or the coffee.

“Good morning. Did I wake you?”

He nodded as he sipped.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s quiet out here. I’m going to wake to any noise. Especially when I realize that it’s you making it.” He sipped again. “I like you here with me.”

“Because you know I’m safe?”

“That, but mostly because I like you.”

She felt her heart beating harder, and she turned away to look at the view. Hope was hard for her. She didn’t know what to do with it, how to respond without giving too much of herself away. He might like her, but he might not be ready for the things she was feeling.

And really—she needed to find out first how ready she was herself. “How often do you spend time out here?”

“You like it?”

“What’s not to like? I can smell more than vomit and antiseptic. I can hear more than crying babies and excuses from insurance companies for not paying claims.”

“I thought you enjoyed your job.”

She nodded, cradled her cup in both hands and lifted it to her mouth. “I do. But this is the first time in all the years I’ve worked there that I’ve taken a break.”

Kell moved to stand beside her, leaning a hip against the porch railing. “You’re either extremely dedicated or insane. All work and no play makes Jamie a—”

“A woman who’s figured out that staying busy is the best way to live in the moment,” she said. “Instead of…”

“Instead of dwelling on the past,” he finished for her.

Bringing her history to this idyllic place had not been her intent, but the words had slipped out before she could stop them. “Yes. And I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“We’re here because of your past. We’re together because of your past.”

Were they together? Or were they both just here? She glanced at him, found him studying her intently, his eyes gravely serious over the rim of his cup. She wanted to look away. She didn’t want him to see the things she was thinking. She didn’t want to let slip words he wasn’t ready to hear.

And so she started to turn, to focus on her coffee and the scrub brush and stunted trees struggling to stay alive beyond Kell’s clearing. He reached for her drink, took it from her hand, set her cup and his on the table between the two porch rockers behind them. Then he reached for her.

He moved her to face him, his hands on her waist, and lifted her to sit on the railing. She draped her wrists over his shoulders, hooked her heels around his thighs and held on as he came to stand between her spread legs.

His expression was that of a lover, compassionate, involved, present. His words ones she needed desperately to hear. “I can deal with your past, Jamie. It’s not going to scare me away.”

Did he know she’d thought that it might? “You’re a Texas Ranger, Kell. I think not running away from a crime is part of your job description.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about. And I’m pretty sure you know it.”

She did. That was the thing that scared her. “I’m trying not to read anything into anything. I’d rather rely on what I know is real.”

“Then let me show you what’s real,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

He tasted like coffee. Sugar and cream and beans grown on an Indonesian hillside. And he tasted like Kell, smelled like Kell. She’d come to know his scent and his taste. He was so familiar already. She knew his movements, too, the insistent thrust of his tongue juxtaposed with the tentative request for entry.

She brought him closer with her heels, her hands, her longing. Beneath the cotton of her camisole, her breasts tightened. Beneath her khaki shorts, her sex grew damp. His kiss did this to her. Made her body ache, weep, want. And kissing him back nearly broke her heart. How would she ever in her lifetime get enough of him?

Needing space, time…sanity, she pulled away, dropped her head onto her shoulders and closed her eyes. Kell was quiet; she knew he was watching her, knew he could see the buttons of her nipples pressing into the fabric of her top. She wanted him to see, wanted him to know. Wanted him to want her, to crave the way she did.

Holding her waist with one hand, he skated his knuckles over her breasts, the peaks, the swells, one side then the other. When she grew dizzy, wobbling, her head spinning, her equilibrium lost in lust, he helped her ease down from the railing. But he was too late.

She’d already fallen for him hard. That’s why she wondered if she wasn’t hearing things when he told her, “Let’s get out of our clothes…and go for a swim.”