Lawman (13 page)

He pursed his lips and his dark eyes twinkled. Grace blushed.

Garon forced his attention back to Mendosa, and told him about the witness Marquez had unearthed in San Antonio.

“His name is Sheldon,” Garon said. “He apparently lived two doors down from the murder victim. Some homicide detectives from San Antonio talked to him. Marquez and I followed up, and he recalled seeing the suspect.”

Mendosa grimaced. “We had an apparent eyewitness ourselves, a man named Homer Rich. But our former chief said the guy was loopy and he wouldn't let us go talk to him. The witness lived right next door to the child.” He frowned. “But he doesn't live here now. He moved out of town not long after the murder.”

Garon frowned. “Was he a suspect?”

“No,” Mendosa said. “The guy was handsome, he made a good living, although I never knew exactly how he made his money. He had a fiancée somewhere. Nobody local ever saw her. He wasn't a suspect. In fact, he joined the search when her family knew she was missing. He even printed up some flyers at his own expense.”

Garon didn't say a word. He took notes. But he knew very well that sometimes murder suspects joined in the search and even spoke to the police about the progress of the investigation. He wasn't telling Mendosa. It would only make the man feel bad. He was operating on a shoestring as it was.

“Know where Rich moved to?” he asked.

Mendosa shook his head. “He kept to himself, mostly. You might ask Ed Reems, he rented the house to Rich.” He gave Garon the address, which he jotted down. “Ed loves to talk. If he knows anything, he'll tell you.”

“Thanks,” Garon said warmly.

“You're welcome. If you need help, let me know. We're all on the same team, when it comes to murder. I'd love to heat up that cold case and solve it. It haunts me. There's just me and one other part-time officer to handle things here. We have to call in the county sheriff's department for assistance if anything major breaks. We just don't have the resources to commit to a decent investigation. I hope you catch this guy.”

“You and me and half the FBI,” Garon replied.

“Child killers evoke sympathy from nobody, especially if they get sent to prison.”

“Amen. If you need help, just call.”

Garon smiled. “I will. Thanks.”

 

G
RACE FINISHED
her soft drink just as they pulled up at a dingy single-wide trailer on a quiet street just outside the Palo Verde city limits.

“Stay put,” he told her. “I won't be long.”

He got out and walked up the steps to the front porch. The door opened. He displayed his credentials. A minute later, he went inside the house.

Grace wondered what he was going to find out. The mention of the red ribbon had made her sick. Garon would be suspicious. She didn't want him to know why it had upset her. It was too soon. Far too soon.

Less than five minutes passed before he came back out, frowning. He got into the car beside her.

“Wasn't he home?”

He drew in a long breath. “He was home,” he said, staring at the house. “He said that Rich didn't leave a forwarding address. What's more, he left the furniture in the house, along with appliances he'd bought. He must have been in a hell of a hurry to get out of town.”

Grace bit her lower lip and mentioned what they were both thinking. “What if he wasn't a witness? What if he did it?”

“That's exactly what I was thinking.” He started the car and put it in gear. “I'll leave you at the chief's office. I need to do some door-to-door investigating.”

“Couldn't I help?”

He smiled gently. “Not without credentials,” he said. “I'll get Mendosa to help me. If we're lucky, we may turn up something.”

 

B
UT FOUR HOURS LATER
, they hadn't turned up one single witness who'd seen anything connected with the crime.

“Look,” Garon told Mendosa, “it's a real long shot, but I'd like to send a forensic team down here to scour the house where Rich lived. We might get lucky and turn up something. We can find traces of blood even after houses are wiped clean with disinfectant and bleach.”

“I'll arrange it with the landlord and his tenants,” Mendosa promised. “How about next Monday, first thing?”

Garon shook his hand. “That's fine. I appreciate the help.”

Mendosa grinned. “So do I. Nobody likes to see a murderer walk.”

“You can say that again.”

 

G
RACE WAS FASCINATED
with the idea that bloodstains couldn't be totally eradicated by murderers.

All the way back to Jacobsville, she pumped him for information on blood spatter patterns, crime scene protocol and what the FBI lab could do with a single human hair.

“It's like something out of Star Trek,” she exclaimed.

He chuckled. “Yes, it is. Our high tech tools give us a real edge in solving crimes.”

“If it weren't for the gory stuff, I think I'd like law enforcement work,” she murmured.

He couldn't picture Grace at a crime scene. On the other hand, she'd chased a coyote right out of her yard with nothing more menacing than a tree limb. She had grit. He admired a woman with staying power. But she kept secrets, Grace did. He wondered what they were.

 

“T
HANKS FOR TAKING ME
with you,” she said when he stopped at her house. “I really enjoyed it.”

“So did I,” he had to admit. He walked her up onto the porch. “You're good company.”

“You'll have to go and make your own supper, because Miss Turner's gone,” she said suddenly. She looked up at him. “I could make supper. I've got some fresh cube steak and potatoes I could fix.”

He hesitated. He was hungry, and he didn't fancy trying to cook. “You must be tired,” he began, feeling guilty.

She shook her head. “I like to cook.”

He smiled. “Okay. What time?”

“Seven?”

“I'll be here.”

He drove off and Grace ran inside to start things in the kitchen. She felt like a child with a treat in store. She'd never enjoyed a man's company so much in her whole life. It was a beginning.

 

T
HEY SAT IN THE KITCHEN
for a long time after they'd finished eating, just talking about the state of the world. They agreed on a lot of issues. In fact, they thought alike on politics and religion, which were said to be the two most controversial subjects on earth.

“You make good coffee,” he remarked, finishing his second cup.

“It's decaf,” she confessed. “Caffeine bothers me.”

“It's good, regardless.”

He checked his watch. “I hate to go, but I have to pick up a visiting agent at the airport tomorrow morning, early. He's going to be in our office for a couple of days, doing an inspection.”

“Inspection?”

He grinned. “It's a way to make sure we're efficient.”

“I could write a testimonial for you,” she offered lightly.

“It will take more than that, I'm afraid.” He walked to the front porch and out into the yard, his eyes on the sky. “There's a halo around the moon. We're going to get some rain, I guess.”

“How would a city fellow like you know that?” she asked, impressed.

He turned, smiling. “I grew up on a ranch in west Texas,” he replied. “We had an old cowboy—he looked eighty—who used to work with the Texas Rangers. He could smell rain a mile away, predict weather, make poultices. I used to sit and listen to him by the hour when he talked about catching bank robbers. I suppose that's why I became a lawman. He made it sound like a holy cause. In some ways, I guess it is. We speak for victims who can no longer speak for themselves.”

“Will you catch that killer, do you think?” she asked quietly.

“I hope we will,” he said, moving closer to her.

“This man is no amateur. He's smart. But he did leave trace evidence that will convict him, if we ever get lucky enough to take him into custody.”

“My grandfather used to say that most criminals are stupid,” she recalled. “He said one man he arrested had killed a man and then left his business card in the man's pocket. And there was a thief who robbed a bank and went out the wrong door, tripped over somebody's dog that was waiting there and actually knocked himself out on the pavement.”

He chuckled. “We've had our share of those, too,” he assured her. “But some aren't as easily caught.”

“You'll get him,” she said with utter confidence, as she smiled up at him.

He moved still closer and took her by the arms, holding her lightly against his tall, powerful body. “You're good for my ego, Grace,” he murmured. “But I don't think I'm good for you.”

She traced a button on his jacket, without looking at him. “You mean that you don't want anything permanent. That's okay. I don't, either.”

“You'll want children one day,” he began.

She took a long, shuddering breath. “I…can't have a child.”

“What?”

It hurt to say that, but they were almost friends now, and he needed to know. Just in case they became more involved. She forced herself to look up at him in the light from the windows. “I was in an…an accident, when I was twelve,” she said. “A bad accident. I got cut up, especially my stomach. So I can't have children.”

Something inside him mourned for her. He knew without asking that she would have wanted a family if she married. He felt an emptiness in himself at the thought, and he couldn't decide why.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“I'm sorry, too,” she said somberly. “I love children.” She searched his eyes. “But you could have them, if you married someday.”

His face closed up. “I don't want to get married.”

He said it so deliberately that she knew there was something in his past, something devastating, that he never discussed. He kept secrets, too, she knew, like she did. But her secrets had to be more life-shattering than his were.

“I'll remember that,” she promised him, and her eyes began to twinkle. “But you're way down on my list of prospective grooms, you know. Almost at the bottom!”

His eyebrows arched. “Well, I like that!” he exclaimed.

“I can get any man I want,” she informed him. “I learned about it on television. There's this new perfume that causes men to parachute out of planes with bouquets of roses and big diamond rings. All I need is a dab of it behind each ear.”

“What if you catch the wrong man?”

“That won't happen. The guy in the commercial is a knockout.”

“They won't give you the guy in the commercial,” he pointed out.

“How do you know? They might run a contest and give him away as the prize,” she chuckled. “Aren't you disappointed?”

He shook his head. “I don't need a man with roses and diamonds.”

She laughed. “I meant, that you aren't on the top of my list!”

He pursed his lips and moved closer. “Honey, if I wanted to be on the top of your list,” he murmured deeply, bending, “I wouldn't need roses to get there.” His hand went behind her head and brought her mouth close, close to his. “I'd only need this,” he whispered as his lips crushed down over hers.

G
RACE MELTED
into his tall body with a faint, shaky sigh. The feel of him, the taste of him, was becoming familiar. He wasn't at all threatening this way. Not anymore. She loved being close to him.

That was obvious, but it made him wary. She wasn't worldly, and he was. He could take a woman in his stride and never look back. There were plenty of women the same way. No ties, no complications. But Grace would expect marriage.

The word felt bitter. He lifted his head.

She radiated joy. Her eyes were brilliant with it. Her swollen mouth was smiling. He felt like a heel. He shouldn't have touched her. But she was appealing in her innocence, as so many experienced women weren't.

He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “The inspector's going to have everybody doing handstands Monday, so I'm taking the afternoon off, to get my supplies at the feed store. Want to come along?”

“Yes!”

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. What the hell. He was enjoying her company. He didn't need to start worrying about the future. It could take care of itself.

He bent and kissed her again, very softly. “Then I'll see you Monday. Good night.”

“Good night. I really had a good time.”

He smiled. “So did I.”

She walked into the house on a cloud. Life was sweet.

 

E
ARLY
M
ONDAY
morning, she drove into town to shop for some clothes that weren't as old as she was. She had a little cash in her checking account that wasn't necessary for bills. She wanted something pretty to wear for Garon. She stopped by Barbara's to ask her advice.

Barbara directed her to the little strip mall in front of the community college, where there was a thrift shop. There were some beautiful things there, used but like new, and they didn't cost much. Grace walked out with two bags full of nice things, and with a cashmere coat with a fur collar over one arm. She felt like flying.

“Grace,” Barbara said gently, “you know I'm happy for you. But don't walk into a relationship blind. That man isn't the marrying sort. And whether he knows it or not, he's not small town material, either.”

“That's what they said about his brother,” Grace pointed out, smiling, “and look at him!”

Barbara didn't return the smile. “Just…go slow. Okay?”

“Worrywart,” she chided, and hugged her friend. “I'm happier than I've ever been in my life,” she whispered. “I'm so happy!”

Barbara gnawed her lower lip as she hugged Grace back. “Be happy, then. But if he hurts you, I'll make him sorry. I swear I will.”

“Stop that. I'm a grown woman.”

“I know,” Barbara agreed. But she didn't smile. Garon Grier was a mature, worldly man, and Grace was a card-carrying innocent. She'd suffered enough already at the hands of one man. She didn't need Garon to put nails in her coffin. But Barbara knew she couldn't stop this train wreck of a relationship from happening. She could only be there for Grace when the bottom fell out of her world.

 

G
RACE HAD BOUGHT
a pair of embroidered jeans and a matching long-sleeved white shirt and a denim jacket to go with them. She left her hair around her shoulders, because Garon liked long hair. She studied herself in the mirror and felt really good about the way she looked.

Remembering how tender he'd been with her, she was walking on clouds. She was falling in love. Surely, he must be, too. A feeling so deep and wondrous had to be shared.

He pulled up in her driveway at one o'clock sharp, and she ran outside to meet him, radiant with joy. He was driving one of the ranch pickup trucks, a black one with lots of chrome trim. His Expedition was still with Miss Turner in Austin.

He got out of the truck and didn't even try to resist the urge to open his arms for her. She made him feel young again, full of hope and optimism. She made him feel like the man he had been, before tragedy had turned his world black.

She hugged him, feeling closer to him than she ever had to anyone else. It was like a miracle, that she could enjoy letting a man touch her, hold her, kiss her. She lifted her face to tell him, but his mouth was already burrowing tenderly into her lips. She opened them for him and held on tight. It was like flying. Joy overflowed like a dammed river suddenly free.

After a minute, he had to put her away from him. He was almost shaking with the need to carry her inside to the nearest bed. He couldn't do that. It was too soon.

“Ready to go?” he asked, smiling.

“I'll just lock the door,” she replied breathlessly, her gray eyes shimmering with happiness.

He watched her go up the steps. Odd, she'd come down them running, but now it seemed like an effort to go back up them. She took longer than necessary to lock the door, too. He wondered why.

She could feel the question on his face before she read it. Her heart was cutting cartwheels, and she couldn't let him see. She forced a smile. “See what you do to me?” she asked pertly. “You take my breath away.”

The suspicious look was replaced by an arrogant one. He actually grinned.

 

S
HE WALKED
into the feed store beside him, smiling and happy. Old Jack Hadley, who'd owned this feed store, one of two in Jacobsville, since Grace's grandfather was a young man, smiled benevolently at Grace.

“Nice to see you out and about, Miss Grace,” he said. “And in good company, too.” He smiled at Garon and winked.

Garon shifted, as if the teasing look made him uncomfortable. “I've got a list,” he said, handing it to the manager.

He pursed his lips. “Well, this seed is a special order. Will next week be soon enough?”

“Yes,” Garon replied.

“But the rest is in stock. Jake!” he yelled, and his teenaged assistant came running from the back of the store. “Get this feed for Mr. Grier and carry it out to his truck, will you?”

“Sure thing!” the boy agreed. He smiled at Grace. “You look nice today,” he said, blushing as he made the bold remark.

“Thanks, Jake,” she said, but her smile was impersonal and faint.

Garon moved to her side, glowering at the boy, who took off like a human rocket.

Grace was confounded at the look on Garon's face. And when he noticed, his dark eyes began to burn in an odd, intimate way as he held her gaze until she flushed and dropped her eyes.

His big hand slid over her small one and held it tightly, as if to emphasize what his eyes were telling her. She could barely breathe for the stab of joy right through her body. She returned the pressure, and felt his fingers ease slowly, sensuously, between hers.

She bit her lower lip, hard, to keep from moaning.

“Don't forget the fertilizer, Jake,” Mr. Hadley called after the boy.

His voice broke the spell, and Grace stepped back, laughing nervously at the tension that still held them both in its grip.

Garon didn't say a word. But what he felt was hard to conceal. She was getting right under his skin. Now he was jealous of high school kids. He wondered what in hell was happening to him!

 

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS
passed with Garon making casual visits to Grace's house, first for an occasional meal, and then in the evening to watch movies he'd rented. Miss Turner's father had rallied, and she'd called to say she'd be back within a week.

Garon and Grace were watching a new murder mystery he'd rented, but his mind wasn't on the film. He kept noticing Grace's body in the demure rounded neckline of her blue blouse. She was wearing a skirt for a change, a long denim one. Her hair was around her shoulders and she smelled just faintly of roses.

“You'll lose the connection,” she warned, looking up at him with a breathless smile.

He turned toward her on the sofa and tugged at her arm until she got the message and slid close to him. He was wearing a long-sleeved chambray shirt with jeans. His boots were lying on the floor with her shoes. He drew her across his lap and let her head slide down into the crook of his arm.

“Relationships don't stagnate, Grace,” he said quietly, searching her wide, gray eyes. “We either go forward, or we stop seeing each other. I'm too old to settle for a platonic relationship.”

Her heart jumped. She'd been right. He was interested in a long-term relationship. He wanted her for keeps!

Her fingers went up to his hard mouth and traced it slowly. “I don't want to stop seeing you,” she whispered, just to make it clear. She was nervous about what he might be asking of her, but she loved him. She was curious about the feelings he evoked from her, when he kissed her and held her close. She wanted to know all of it. She wanted to erase the nightmarish memories from her mind, to overlay them with loving caresses from a man to whom she could entrust her innocence. She smiled.

He drew in a long breath. “At last,” he whispered, bending. “I thought I was going to go mad before we got to this point!”

She wanted to ask what he meant, but he was kissing her. This wasn't like the other times, when he'd been hesitant and slow. He was hungry. He was ravenous. At first his ardor was frightening and she stiffened.

He drew back at once to search her eyes. “I will never hurt you,” he said in a gruff whisper. “Not in any way.”

She began to relax again. “I know. It's just…”

He remembered. She'd had a bad experience as a child. He smiled slowly and traced her mouth with the tip of his finger. “Everything's going to be all right. Trust me. I can give you pleasure—as much as you can handle.”

As he spoke, he bent again. This time the kiss was longer, sensual, deliberately arousing. His hands slid up and down her sides until he was teasing just at the edges of her breasts. Something was happening to her, something unexpected. She felt her body swell and burn, as if he'd kindled a fever in it. She seemed to have no control over it anymore. It wanted his touch, his tenderness. She wanted him.

He took her face between his hands and searched her wide, gray eyes for a long time. He felt the look all the way to his toes. She made him ache all over. He wondered if she knew it, and reasoned that she probably didn't. With her history, sexual attraction to a man was going to be something of an ordeal. His eyes narrowed as he considered how some men would take advantage of her interest, rush her, hurt her because they didn't understand what she'd been through in her childhood. He hated the thought of some careless man using her for his own pleasure, and leaving her even more damaged.

“What are you thinking?” she asked curiously.

“How lovely you are,” he replied.

She laughed self-consciously. “Me?”

“Yes,” he said, and he didn't smile. “You.”

He bent and kissed the smile, very slowly, in a way that he hadn't during their short relationship. He drew her gently against him as his mouth worked its way against her lips until she opened her own mouth, to let him inside. He felt a flash of pure animal desire at the shy action. It tested his control. But he managed to keep things tender, even so, determined not to frighten her.

As the kiss grew in length and intensity, he felt her stiffen just at first, and then slowly relax into the hard contours of his body. His hand dropped slowly to her back and slid down, moving her gently against him until his ardor became tangible against her belly.

He lifted his head to look into her wide, fascinated eyes. “Not afraid?” he asked quietly.

She couldn't manage words, but she shook her head. She felt boneless. She ached all over. Something began to throb deep in her body.

He felt those reactions. She wasn't protesting. If anything, she moved closer to him, gasping faintly at the heat and power of his aroused body.

It was like falling into fire, he thought as he bent again to her mouth and slowly invaded it, first with his lips, then with his tongue. The first silken thrust of it inside hers caused her to grip his arms so tightly that her short nails dug into the flesh even through his shirt. Then as he moved his tongue sensually against hers, she moaned audibly.

If he had any thought of pulling away, it was gone in a flash. It had been too long since he'd had a woman. He was dying for her. He couldn't stop.

He got to his feet and then bent, lifting her clear of the sofa in his arms while his mouth still covered her own. He carried her down the hall, glancing into a lit room with a double bed. He went into it, kicking the door shut behind him, and laid her out on the bed. His eyes were almost black with desire as he looked down at her, hesitating.

But she was as far gone as he was. She loved what he could make her feel. She was almost twenty-five years old and she'd never had a lover. She wanted him. She wanted to be a woman, a whole woman, with this man whom she loved with all her heart. And it wasn't as if he just needed a woman, she told herself. He wanted a relationship. That had to mean marriage! Her arms opened.