He smiled. “Yeah. They're always bad."
"They are.” Her gaze went to the woman's eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about them—a certain warmth that was also oddly calculating. “I haven't seen her around, but there's something about her that seems familiar.” She paused, and then it hit. “Anni Jenkins, the woman who runs the flower shop below my apartment. Frankie has the same sort of eyes as her."
"Eyes? Not facial features?"
"No. Anni's plumper, with thick gray curls, and she's a lot older than this woman appears to be."
"This photo was taken over ten years ago."
"Even so, this woman is still younger than Anni.” She shrugged and handed back the photo. “You know, Anni is apparently friendly with Candy, which gives us a reason to talk to her. Might be worth showing her this photo to see what sort of reaction we get."
"You think we'll get a reaction?"
"Anni's the town gossip. If anyone's seen this woman, it would be her.” She did a U-turn and headed towards the other end of town. “It's odd that she was personally delivering flowers to Candy, though. She hires a teenager to do most of the flower runs."
Cade shifted in the seat, until he was almost facing her. “What do you know about this Anni?"
"She's a busybody who took over the florist shop about six months ago. The previous manager had a car accident and had to quit work."
"So neither woman owns the shop?"
"No. It was owned by Lana Lee.” She briefly met Cade's gaze. “She died in that burned out house we saw on Candy's street."
"An accidental death?"
"We don't think so."
"Connected to our case?"
"There's no evidence so far to suggest that."
"And yet you believe they are?"
"Yes, I do."
His sudden smile was warm. “You would have made a good cop."
"I am a good cop."
"I meant a real cop, not a play one."
Irritation swept through her. “My dreams may not be as lofty as yours, but that doesn't give you the right to mock them. Rangers are cops, reservation cops, regardless of what you think of us. We go through training, and we have to obey the same rules."
He shifted again, and touched his leg absently. It was obviously aching, and he was just as obviously not going to do anything about it. Men.
Still, was she any better? She hadn't done much about the cut on her cheek, either.
"And here I thought you were against rules,” he said. “Wasn't that what Rosehall was all about?"
"Yeah, but it was my father's rules I was trying to escape, not society's."
"And ten years later, you're still trying to escape them."
She shot him a glance. “You try being the daughter of a man who doesn't believe in sex before marriage and see how well you cope."
"I intend to achieve lots of things in my life, but being a daughter is never going to be one of them.” Humor touched his rich voice. “So why come back here at all? Why not go to one of the other reservations and train there?"
"Because Neva was here."