blue, tries to steal from your cousin, and you ignore the obvious way to get a clear picture of what we’re dealing with? Why?” Tate studied him closely. “Damn, you’ve got a thing for her, haven’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then give me one good reason for not checking her out.”
“I did check. I ran through the stolen vehicle reports,” he conceded finally. He’d done even that much reluctantly, praying that he wouldn’t find a report on a fancy Oklahoma car in the stack.
Tate was only slightly mollified. “Anything there?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve spent more time with her than I have. What do you think?”
“I think she’s trying her best to start over. Maybe we ought to back off and let her.”
“What if whatever trouble she’s in follows her here to Los Piños?” Tate inquired. “We should be prepared for it, don’t you think? We can’t help her, if we don’t know what to be on the lookout for.”
Justin sighed. He had no argument with his boss’s thinking. In law enforcement, especially in a small town with limited resources, it was always better to be prepared.
“We need some answers, son. You know we do.”
“I know. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Don’t take too long. Every instinct tells me that it won’t be long before all hell breaks loose. A classy woman with a baby and a fancy car, but no money...” He shook his head. “It has all the earmarks of a woman on the run from her husband.”
Hearing his own suspicion put into words made Justin’s heart sink. Every time a voice in his head had started to shout the possibility, he’d tuned out, refusing to listen. He’d looked for a wedding ring, but she hadn’t been wearing one. He’d wanted to believe that meant there was no husband. He was smart enough to know better. Rings would be the first thing she’d hide—or hock.
“Any sign she’d been abused?” Tate asked.
“No bruises, if that’s what you mean.” He had checked, surreptitiously studying every visible inch of her for fading marks on her pale skin. He’d been relieved by the absence of evidence. “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t, though.” He thought of the way she’d reacted to Billy’s accident with the ice cream the night before. She’d been too quick to leap to her feet, too panicked over such a trivial incident.
“What about the boy?” Tate inquired just as the same thought struck Justin.
“By God, I hope not,” he said tightly, consumed with fury at the slightest possibility that that was the explanation for Patsy being on the run. The one good sign was that Billy had shown no fear at all of him. If he’d been harmed by his father, wouldn’t he have been wary of men? He clung to that tiny shred of reassurance.
Tate cleared his throat and regarded Justin uneasily. “Son, are you sure you’re the best person to be checking into this. Maybe I ought to look into it myself.”
“Why?”
“Could be you’re too personally involved.”
“Involved? I just met the woman.”
“Ever heard about lightning bolts?” the sheriff questioned. “They strike without warning. Only takes an instant to change everything.”
Justin thought of the way Patsy’s skin had felt under his touch the night before, of the way her soft cheek had warmed, of the flicker of desire he’d been so sure he’d seen in her eyes. And then he considered how badly his body had ached the rest of the night with wanting her, with wanting more than that gentle, fleeting brush of skin against skin.
It meant nothing, he assured himself. Just a natural, hormonal reaction to a beautiful woman’s proximity.
“My objectivity’s not compromised,” he insisted, partly because he believed it, mostly because he didn’t dare consider the possibility that it could be.
Tate’s gaze met his and remained steady. Finally he nodded, accepting Justin’s word. “If that changes, let me know. You don’t just owe it to me. You owe it to her.”
“I will,” he promised. If the time ever came when he couldn’t do his job, surely he would know it, surely he would do the right thing. He wouldn’t let pride and pure cussedness stand in his way.
If he did, if it ever came to that, he would have to reexamine exactly who Justin Adams really was, if he really was the honorable, natural born lawman he’d always thought himself to be. Or if he was like any other man who’d bend the rules when they no longer suited him.
* * *
The vivacious woman with the sculpted cheekbones and short black