The Green-Eyed Doll (3 page)

He pushed away from his desk, stretched out the kinks, and then reached for his hat. His stomach growled as he headed for the exit.

The night dispatcher glanced up and smiled. “Calling it a night?”

“Yeah. Have a good evening.” Matt stopped at the exit and glanced over his shoulder. “Donnie, call with any updates on Julia Drummond.”

“Will do, Sheriff.”

Matt stepped out into the evening air. The sun going down in a few hours wasn’t going to offer much relief to the sweltering temperatures. Curry had little traffic this time of day, and within minutes, he pulled onto the highway. He’d bought a place last month, a white frame house with a hundred acres. Located on the outskirts of Butte Crest, he was home in twenty minutes.

The stray who’d adopted him waited on the porch. “Come on, dog.” He patted his leg, and the brindle mutt tagged along into the kitchen. Matt poured food in a bowl on the floor and watched it disappear in seconds. He reached for the empty dish, sending the dog scurrying out of reach. “Still don’t trust me. Somebody beat the hell out of you, didn’t they?” The animal twisted his head sideways watching Matt. “It’s okay. I won’t pet you until you’re ready.”

He changed out of his uniform and slid on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Barefoot, he headed to the refrigerator where he grabbed the makings for a ham sandwich.

The second he kicked back in his easy chair, his cell phone buzzed. The display indicated his dispatcher was calling. Had the missing woman turned up? “What’s up, Donnie?”

“I hate to bother you at home. Carl’s an hour away, and there’s been a fight at the Saddleback.”

“I’m on my way.” Matt disconnected, hurried to his bedroom, and jerked on his socks and boots. He glanced at his bed, shaking his head in resignation. The price of being sheriff in a large county with a small budget—too many miles to cover and not enough men.

He put the dog outside, gulped down a couple of big bites of his sandwich, tossed the rest to the always-hungry mutt, and headed to Butte Crest.

****

Saturday, July 29th, 8:30 p.m.

Catherine refused to turn and look when the door to the bar opened and closed. Marty calling the cops was the last thing Catherine needed.

“Well, how ’bout that,” Marty called out. “The man himself. Come on in.”

“Marty.”

Great. The sheriff.
Catherine recognized his deep baritone voice even though they had only met once. First, he spoke to the bartender, JC Harper, and if she were any judge, his footsteps were headed straight for her and Marty.

“You have trouble tonight?”

“Hell,” Marty exclaimed, waving him to a chair. “Fight’s over. Almost everybody went home.”

“What happened? You keep your customers under control—most of the time.”

His gaze met Catherine’s and held for a long second. There was that almost grin again.

“Let me guess, you were in the middle of things. Right?”

Sitting at a table with an icepack on her jaw, Catherine gave him her best “who me?” look.

“I forgot,” Marty commented. “You two know each other.”

“We’ve met.” He tipped the brim of his hat with one finger. “One of you care to tell me what happened?”

“Wasn’t a big deal.” Marty waved him off. “Catherine took a punch from a jealous wife.”

“I’d like to hear her side.”

His broad shoulders turned, and suddenly Catherine was face-to-face with him. She succinctly described the incident to the expressionless sheriff. His face was a blank slate, making it hard for her to get a good read. For some stupid reason, she wanted him to understand.

“It’s the truth,” she ground out. “I didn’t flirt with Jessie Bradley’s husband.”

“Whoa.” He held his hands up in the sign of surrender. “I believe you. You want to press assault charges?”

“No.” The idea brought back images of bickering lawyers. She’d had enough of those vultures to last a lifetime.

Marty put her hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “The fight was nothing. I’m sorry I called for help. Jessie is jealous as hell, and when Vince started fawning over Catherine, Jessie went a tad crazy. She did smack Catherine a good one.”

“And I didn’t touch her.” She could’ve broken Jessie’s nose, but martial arts training had taught Catherine self-control along with self-defense.

The sheriff leaned forward and pulled the icepack away. He ran his finger across her skin, inspecting her injury.

“Geesh.” His touch left a trail of heat on her skin. Surprised, she pulled away. “You’re looking at me like I’m a virus under a microscope.”

The corners of his mouth lifted when he pushed the icepack back in place. “Skin’s not broken. I see a small bruise forming. You shouldn’t be working here. I told you this wasn’t a good choice. There’s trouble at this bar most every weekend.”

“I’m not afraid of a little trouble.” Catherine blinked back the tears edging toward the surface. She refused to cry. No more tears ranked in the top ten of her
Never
list. She didn’t care if he approved. Like it or not, she needed this job.

“That’s the God’s honest truth,” Marty said. “She showed amazing restraint. I should’ve known a pretty little thing like Catherine was gonna cause trouble, especially her being an outsider. I love it. Tomorrow night, this place will be packed.”

“I might as well put a deputy in the parking lot,” the sheriff grumbled.

“Listen, Catherine,” Marty said. “This night’s done. Why don’t you head on home?”

“Thanks. I think I will.”

Catherine went behind the bar for her purse and removed the cash from the tip jar Marty had given her. Considering she hadn’t worked the full shift, the stack of bills in her hand gave her a rush.

“You heading out?” JC asked.

“Yes. I appreciate your help—you know—earlier.” When Marty introduced the two of them, she’d said JC kept a close eye on the floor. Sure enough, he’d put a stop to the dispute before it got out of hand. Broad shoulders, at least six feet tall, and an easy going personality made him perfect for the job. He calmed everybody down without losing his temper.

“Not a problem. Want me to walk you to your car?”

“No thanks. I’ll be fine.” She shoved the bills into her purse and then waved to Marty and the sheriff.

Catherine crossed the parking lot and got into her old Ford. It felt good to have cash in her purse. Based on Marty’s recommendation, Emma Williamson had let Catherine move into the tiny house with only a fifty-dollar deposit. A couple of nights like tonight and she’d pay her new landlady the full month’s rent.

Catherine’s engine groaned. Turned over once, then nothing. Great, her car wouldn’t start. She tried again. Again, nothing. She rested her head on the steering wheel to indulge in a minute of self-pity. “Geesh,” she exclaimed when her car door opened.

“Something wrong?” The sheriff crouched and put his hand on her arm.

“No. Everything’s fine. Really.” His touch was surprisingly gentle for a man with such a large hand. Warmth rolled under her skin and across her chest. Confused, she pulled away from him.

His head tilted as if to get a better view. “You were collapsed across the steering wheel.”

“Really, it’s nothing.” Damn, she wasn’t weak or needy. Yet every time he showed up, she needed help. “Sheriff, I’m fine.”

He removed his hat and rubbed his forehead. “Think you could call me Matt?”

“Matt,” she said his name softly. “I’m Catherine.”

The tension in the air eased when both their stomachs growled in harmony.

“Look, we got off to a rocky start. How about I buy you a late supper?”

She hesitated. Making friends with the sheriff went against her good judgment.

“You’ll be safe with me. Off duty or on, I’m one of the good guys. I promise.”

His full smile transformed his handsome face to beautiful. Catherine couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a meal sitting across from a member of the opposite sex. His offer made her want to forget the crisis of the hour. Her car wouldn’t start.

He stood and extended his hand. “We’ll grab a bite, and I’ll bring you right back.”

Defying all logic, she laid her palm against his. “I haven’t eaten since morning.” His grip was strong and warm. Before she had time to rethink her decision, he’d tucked her in his car and was buckling up his seat belt.

“Nothing’s open this time of night except the truck stop, but the food is good.”

“Truck drivers always know where to eat.” She looked around inside the cruiser and remembered a past and unpleasant ride in one. “What happens if you get a call, and I’m in the car with you?”

“If there’s a shootout at the OK Corral, I’ll leave you somewhere safe and come back later.” He tossed her a smile. “The chances of that happening are slim.”

So he had a sense of humor. How would he handle a more serious question? “Marty and some of the customers were talking about a missing woman. That sort of thing doesn’t happen a lot, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t. And we’re doing everything we can to find her.”

His words sounded thick with concern, and his sharp jaw was set with determination. For some reason, she believed the statement came from his heart.

“Is that why you’re out late?”

“No. I live close by, and none of my deputies were in the area.”

“I get it. You can’t talk about the case.”

“I can tell you every available resource is working the case. And she’s never far from my mind. Will that do?”

“Now you sound like you’re reading a press release.”

He laughed a hollow sound. “That did sound rehearsed. But it’s the truth.”

His mood had shifted. The tone of his voice was solid yet warm with worry when he spoke of the missing woman.

A slight musky, woodsy scent filled the car and her senses. Her stomach fluttered. Not butterfly wings, Mallard ducks. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her nervous.
Well, this kind of nervous.

“Hello?” His voice pulled her attention back. “You drifted off. Keep that up, and you’ll give me an inferiority complex.”

“Sorry.” Her cheeks heated, making her grateful for the darkness. She’d forgotten how to make small talk with a man.

Relief hit her when Matt drove around a half dozen big rigs and found a parking spot. He brought out feelings she didn’t want to remember, sensations she thought were long forgotten. She was more than uncomfortable at the revelation.

“Doesn’t look like they’re too busy.”

He got out and waited for her at the front of his cruiser. She accepted his extended hand as she stepped up on the walk. His nearness slammed home the absence of human contact in her life.

The waitress laid menus in front of them seconds after they slid into a booth.

“What can I get you?”

“Whatever the lady wants, works for me. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll wash up.”

Catherine ordered while Matt made a trip to the men’s room. He stopped to visit with a couple of people on the way back. She averted her gaze when he glanced across the room and caught her watching him. He broke off his conversation and rejoined her when the waitress delivered their food.

“Sorry. I didn’t plan on being gone long. Hard to walk away when people are concerned about the missing woman. The guy sitting in the far booth is the café manager. He said the locals who eat here are getting jumpy.”

“I could see the worry on their faces.” She pushed the basket of fries over to him. “These are for you. I hope you wanted a combo.”

“Works for me.” He ripped open a pouch of catsup for his fries. “Eat up.”

“So what’s your story?” She unwrapped her burger. “You don’t have the typical Texas twang. I’m guessing you’re not a country boy. Yet you’re working out here in the mesquite trees and underbrush.”

“You’re wrong. I was raised one county over. After I graduated from The University of Houston, I stayed in town. Spent the better part of ten years on their police force.”

“You’ve been home over a year or so.”

“Wait a minute. Have I been the topic of conversation at the bar?”

The booth seemed to shrink in size. Heat rushed up her cheeks, and she stared at her food. He obviously wasn’t comfortable with the idea they’d been talking about him.

“Sorry. Marty might’ve mentioned you once or twice.”

“Believe only the good things. What about you? I’ve met a few vagabonds in my life. None of them looked like you.”

“Born and raised in Oklahoma. I was married. Now I’m not. One day my life fell apart. And here I am. Alone, on my own, and loving it.” She laughed, trying to keep it light. She’d kept her sentences short and to the point, intentionally not sharing much information about herself.

“May I ask...are you divorced?”

“Widowed.” She swallowed a couple of times. “I hung around wondering what to do for a year, until I figured out I didn’t belong. I decided to see the country, working my way across each state. Every three or four months, I leave again.” Her chin lifted, and her gaze locked with his. “I always leave.”

Catherine was positive he got the message. She had no interest in a permanent relationship. His eyes narrowed as he studied her over the top of his drink.

“Aren’t you too old to run away from home?”

She arched an eyebrow and straightened her shoulders to let him know he’d hit a nerve. “Apparently not. I’m enjoying a freedom at thirty other people had in their twenties.”

The waitress interrupted when she cleared away their trash. Catherine was through sharing information. “You ready to head back? I need all the rest I can get for tomorrow night at the bar.”

On the ride back, she felt his eyes on her occasionally, heating her skin from the inside out, making her super uncomfortable. The interior of the car warmed in spite of the air conditioner being on high.

“Thank you for supper. It was nice,” she said when he reached the bar’s parking lot.

“You’re welcome. We’ll find someplace nicer next time.”

“I’d like that.”

Him asking and her accepting shocked the hell out of her. She remained seated in the cruiser when he parked, and for some unexplainable reason, she hated to get out. Their bodies almost touched when she stepped out. Heat rolled off him and slammed her in the belly.