The Sheriff. Angi MorganЧитать онлайн книгу.
shrugged and leaned on the wall again. “Maybe the man isn’t dead after all. Maybe he came to and wandered into the desert. Search party will find him or evidence. They’re usually good at that.”
He cleared his throat, shifted his stance and forced his thoughts back to this case. A real case. A case that would prove he could be sheriff on his own merit. Not just because his dad had to step down after his heart attack. A case that would cinch an election.
He could hear questions being asked in the hall and no answers given to Ginny. But as much as the nurse kept her mouth shut here, he knew from firsthand experience she’d be sharing that he hadn’t left the room. It would be all over the county as soon as she got on her social media devices.
So be it. Her gossiping was one of the reasons they’d stopped dating. Among other things.
If the woman he’d found had been caught in the wrong place, she needed protection. She could be a witness to a mysterious crime. Or part of it. He didn’t know, but he would be discovering the truth soon.
Whatever was going on, until he figured it out, Andrea Allen was stuck with him.
* * *
BEING LOOPY IN the same room with a handsome man in uniform was humiliating enough. Then Andrea had taken her shirt off. Oh, my gosh. And he was handsome. She melted a bit when he put his hat on while leaving the hospital. A cowboy? Really? She was a rock ’n’ roll girl all the way. Classic rock and definitely not country. This guy wore boots. Real boots. Still, she wanted to find out what kissing him was like.
She absolutely adored cleft chins. Especially this one. Then there were his eyes—kind and serious, or embarrassed and sweet.
“In case you’re curious, we’re heading down Highway 90 to Marfa instead of directly back 118 to Fort Davis. Just in case Suit Man is waiting with friends. There are plenty of cops on 90 tonight.”
“Thanks.”
She refused to further embarrass herself by making small talk. Her mouth had a habit of saying exactly what she was thinking, and the more time she thought about a subject, the more she’d end up blurting out trivia about herself.
“You warm enough?” he asked.
An innocent question. Small talk. She nodded, refusing to verbalize anything. It would open a floodgate of words that would inspire an entire conversation. And what if she ended up really liking him? How could he think of her as anything but a lunatic after what had happened?
“Sorry, is that an affirmative?”
“Yes.” Keep your cool. Maybe pretend to fall asleep and he won’t ask anything. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, trying to see the stars and constellations.
“It’s okay to talk, you know. Why don’t you tell me about why you’re in West Texas.”
Was he just making conversation? Being polite? Or pumping her for information? Did it really matter? “I don’t think I should say anything. You’re treating me like a suspect.”
“Do you feel like a suspect? I thought I was treating you like someone who needed a lift home. I do that. It’s part of my job.”
“I don’t know why I’m being so paranoid.”
“Maybe it has something to do with a dying man falling into your arms in the middle of nowhere or being chased by unknown assailants?” He scratched between his eyebrows for a brief second. He’d done that several times as he’d dipped his chin. “Or maybe it was the guy posing as Homeland Security who attacked you.”
“Yeah.” She laughed for a second, surprising herself. “That might have something to do with it.”
“Pretty good badge, too. Had me fooled, even down to his shoes. Most of ’em forget the shoes.”
She covered her eyes, sliding her hand over her mouth. Small talk, remember the small talk consequences. She did not want to reveal who her father was or who he worked for. His job title was a red flag, warning off guys too frightened to stand near him. Or others would fall into hero worship when the former astronaut showed up. Either of her father’s personas would make her feel like the background, and she’d lose interest in a potential relationship.
“You can rest if you want. Use the blanket I took from the trunk for a pillow. I promise it’s clean.”
Rolling the dark cotton into a cylinder, her brain jump-started as the road veered directly west again. They were getting close to the Viewing Area. She could see warning lights down the road, still miles away, but bright for a clear night on a flat piece of earth. Not anything like what she’d experienced earlier.
“I probably should just keep my mouth shut, but I don’t want to forget this.” She pointed at the hills to the south. “The lights I saw first appeared back that direction. There was something strange about them.”
“People see lights out here all the time.”
“Don’t dismiss me like a tourist.”
“Pardon me, ma’am. I forgot for a minute you were an astrologer.”
“Astronomer, but you already knew that. Trying to insult me?” From him, it didn’t come across as an insult. “Can we stop to get my things, Pete? I think I’m clearheaded enough to have a discussion with your colleagues about what happened. And I’ll never get to sleep if I don’t have my music.”
He tugged at the front of his shirt, shifting behind the wheel. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
So when Pete didn’t want her to know something or he was holding back, he kept a straight face and couldn’t smile. Interesting. He was definitely holding back. She’d seen a lot of guys in uniform in her lifetime and they all stood a little straighter, forcing the confidence to come through as the truth.
“I don’t really want to see Sharon’s car or have that memory with me forever. But isn’t it better than wondering about it for the rest of my life? Which is worse?”
“I can’t answer that, Miss Allen.” He pulled to the shoulder of the road and put the car in Park. “What I can tell you is that nothing was there except the car.”
“You aren’t taking me back to the observatory. Are you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“So you think I murdered that man and wrecked my friend’s car and made up a story about weird chopper lights to cover everything up? He was shot. Did you find a gun? And really, I came into the desert without anything? No cell, no purse, no shovel, no identification whatsoever to get rid of a dead man?” She’d started talking and couldn’t stop. “Granted, if I were getting rid of a dead man, I probably wouldn’t carry my ID. But alone? Get real. And if you knew me at all, no snacks and no water? Well, that just isn’t going to happen.”
“Wow.” He draped his arm over the steering wheel, turning more of his body toward her and smiling once again. “That’s impressive.”
“I have a vivid imagination and think really fast. My dad rubbed off on me. I don’t understand how you can assume that I’m guilty without any proof. There isn’t any proof. Right? I mean, I’m not being framed, am I? Lots of people knew where I’d be tonight.”
“Just hold on a minute.” He straightened the arm closer to her, reaching out to pat her shoulder. “If you can take a breath and slow down to my speed, I can explain what’s going on. To a certain degree.”
She faced forward and shoved her fingers under her legs. Watching his sincerity was clouding her ability to analyze the situation correctly. She’d allowed him to distract her far too long and should have called her parents immediately. She knew that number by heart. “Okay, I’m breathing.”
“You’ve been in protective custody since I got a phone call from the paramedics that there wasn’t a body in the vehicle.