Kerry was waiting outside in the parking lot of the police department when Rafe pulled up. The second he’d called, she had a patrol car heading out to escort him in, and state police were looking for the vehicle he’d described in great detail.
When she caught herself practically running to open his truck door for him, she slowed down. Focused on the job. And stood there waiting for him to step down out of the truck.
Yeah, she looked him over carefully, noting everything from the good, healthy color of his skin, to the slightly frenetic energy about him. His hair wasn’t mussed and the knot on his tie was neatly in place.
He’d changed back into business clothes after she’d left him that afternoon. Why that mattered she didn’t know, but there it was. She’d been expecting him in the jeans she’d left him in.
“You’re okay?” she asked, when she’d determined for herself that he’d been telling her the truth. He wasn’t hurt.
“I am. I’m not so sure about my truck.” He was walking toward the tailgate and she followed him.
Damn. He was right. Someone had shot at him. “There are three distinct bullet holes,” she said, shaking all over again. She went down on her haunches, studying the marks, but didn’t think there was any trace evidence in them. Still, “I’ll get someone out here to check this,” she said. And then looked up at Lizzie and James, the two officers who’d seen Rafe in safely. “Head out there and see if you can find any casings,” she said, naming the approximate mile markers that should be their starting and stopping points. “I’m afraid that if we wait until morning, traffic will have ruined our chances of finding them.”
And then, hoping she had her emotions in check, she looked up at Rafe again. “Dane’s here,” she told him, “waiting to speak with you.”
His nod was appropriate. The warm, sweet look in his gaze was not.
“I’m fine, Ker.”
She nodded, and led him inside.
Kerry listened with a sense of pride as Rafe described to Dane, in clear detail, exactly what he’d told her on the phone. There was nothing duplicitous about the man. His stories never changed.
His reliability had been one of the things she’d loved about him. Rafe Kay had been the one aspect of her life she could count on.
“I didn’t get a good look at the guy,” he said. “But it could have been the same guy up on the mountain, without the beard. I hit him pretty hard. If it is the same man, he’ll have bruises. This guy was broad shouldered, too. Dark hair, from what I could tell. And unless someone was lying down in the vehicle, he was alone.”
“Are you sure enough to risk your life on that?” Dane asked.
Frowning, Rafe shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
The lines on Dane’s slightly weathered face deepened with concern as he looked from one to the other of them at the round table they were sharing. “I think it’s clear that you and Kerry are both much safer in town,” he said, but talking mostly to Rafe, who looked as put together as always, like no matter what happened to him, he just took it and moved on. Not even his tie was askew.
Dane was wearing a tie, too, but his knots were always loose, leaving room for an open top button. “I want you under protection, at least for tonight,” he said to Rafe. “Here in town, if at all possible. You tell me where you’ll be and I’ll send a car.”
Rafe shook his head. He was a free man. He’d done nothing wrong. He had a choice. And...
“He can stay at my place,” Kerry blurted. “He’s already been with me the past two nights...”
She’d promised herself when he left her home that morning he wouldn’t step back inside, but that was before someone had tried to shoot him.
Not them. Him. Not up on the mountain. But on his way home. It was getting personal.
“I don’t know, Kerry,” Dane said. “If he’s going to bunk with someone, James might be better...”
“Why, because he’s a guy and I’m a woman?” she asked, quick to anger. Quick to everything these days, apparently. “Like no one ever has guys sitting in a safe house guarding women in jeopardy?”
“Excuse me,” Rafe interrupted. “I’m sitting right here. I think I can decide what protection I need and how to keep myself safe.”
Right. Her point to begin with. Before she’d gone and tried to control the situation. He was the one in charge of his welfare.
“I agree with Dane. You need the protection, Rafe,” she said before he could refuse, before her feelings could be hurt that it seemed like he didn’t want to be at her house as badly as she wanted him there. “At this point we have no idea what’s going on. Until now, the only real danger has been when we’ve been up on the mountain. This...following you out of town, or worse, sitting in wait for you to head out to the ranch...we can’t be sure this is even related to Tyler’s death, Odin Rogers, any of it. For all we know, it could have something to do with whoever shot Payne. You really need to stay in town. And you need protection.”
“I can pay for my own protection,” he said, and she let out a breath, glad to know he wasn’t arguing his need for it. And hurt that he didn’t want her services.
Hurt, because she was a confused mess where he was concerned.
And then she remembered. “You already told me once that you’d hire your own protection,” she said. “If you did, they’ve failed miserably...”
“I didn’t. But I will.”
“Now? Tonight?” Why was she fighting so hard to have him at her house? She knew what would happen. And knew that she was only creating more heartache for the future.
“Probably,” he said, bowed his head and then glanced at both of them. “I’d rather wait until morning,” he said. “I have a guy who has people on call, but I just told him this morning I didn’t need anyone. And I’m hoping by morning we’ll realize it’s not necessary. None of my other siblings have watchdogs on them at the moment.”
“None of your other siblings have been warned away or shot at recently. But you’re right, we’ll probably know more in the morning,” Dane allowed. They had the ranger’s autopsy results. His death had been ruled a homicide. There’d been very clear pressure applied to his throat at or about the time of death, pressure, not a blunt force blow sustained in a fall. But enough to render him incapable of calling out or fighting much if he was being backed up to a mountain ledge. These were all things she had to tell Rafe.
Because he was helping her investigate Tyler’s death.
Because her brother had most likely suffered the same fate.
“We got a partial fingerprint that we’ve sent for identification and to be run through databases,” was all Dane said about it.
If they knew who’d pushed the ranger, they could bring him in. And maybe it could all just be over if the print came back belonging to Odin Rogers. Or whoever it came back to rolled on Odin Rogers. Or if the criminal was just plain guilty and Odin was no more than the greasy snake many of them thought him to be.
“And they might find the guy who took a shot at you. There aren’t that many ways off that road, and the state police know the area. If nothing else, we might get something on the bullets that will link us to the shots fired at you two on the mountain,” Dane added. “So definitely, for tonight at least, it’s best that you stay in town.”
“I was going to say that I’d like to accept Detective Wilder’s invitation to stay at her place,” Rafe said, glancing at her, briefly, and then looked back at Dane. “We’ve been at this a few days already and it would be less awkward,” he said.
“As long as you’re sure you don’t mind a guest for one more night?” He looked at her fully then, and there was nothing at all untoward in the glance; nothing that Dane could ever intercept or interpret in any way inappropriate.
But as she assured both men that she was just doing her job and happy to be able to help, she knew what Rafe had been asking.
And what she’d just agreed to.
He’d given his word that he wouldn’t ask her to make love with him again. But if she invited him home, all bets were off.
At least that was the translation she understood.
He would have liked to go home and refill his overnight bag. Instead, he changed into the flannels and T-shirt that were still in his duffel from the night before and gave the rest of his clothes to Kerry to throw in the wash. The pants were dry clean only and might not survive, but if they didn’t they were easily replaced.
She’d barely said a word to him, other than telling him she’d do his laundry. He’d followed her home and, at her earlier instruction, parked his truck in her garage, then waited as she pulled into the driveway behind him.
He could easily have stayed at Marlowe’s condo.
He could have called Ace or got a room at the Dales Inn.
He could have done a lot of things.
He did what felt right rather than what the family would have expected of him. The distinction was small. Overall no one watched over where the others slept. But somehow over the years, family expectations had become a major measure in the choices he made.
“I just got off the phone with Bubba’s,” Kerry said, coming in from the laundry room to join him at the dining room table. He’d insisted on a stop at Colton Oil to collect the laptop he had there. If nothing else, he had financials to study that night. “I ordered a couple of rib plates.”
One of his favorite meals of all time. Even with his well-traveled palate. He glanced at her, ready to ask if she’d remembered, and then stopped. He’d given her his word that he would never again ask her to have sex with him. He was going keep that word, which meant he couldn’t be taking any trips down memory lane. With or without her.
Seeming to be on par with his mental state, she spent the next several minutes giving him the details of Grant Alvin’s autopsy. “The coroner ruled his death a homicide. And since he was killed, and even lying in a position similar to Tyler, this should be enough to get Tyler’s body exhumed,” she said. “To have my brother’s death ruled a homicide will let us open an official investigation. Not that I’m going to rock that boat at the moment, but that fingerprint Dane told you about? It’s from Alvin’s neck. If we get a hit, we’ll know who killed him.”
That was the best news he’d heard all day. He told her so and followed it quickly with, “Is there anything back on the rock that was used to hit you yesterday?”
She shook her head. “No clear prints. But if we get this guy tonight, the chief will probably get a full confession out of him. He’s the best interrogator I’ve ever known.”
He wanted to be the best she’d ever known. And was truly glad to know that she had people in her life who were far better at some things than he was. She was looking at him. They’d been talking about the case.
He had to keep his mind focused. Stop trying to make things personal.
“Did you have a chance to look up Nan Gelman?” he asked, because it was the first case detail that sprang to mind.
“I was just getting started when you called,” she told him, leaving him to wonder what else she’d been working on. To be followed by a reminder to himself that it was none of his business.
Starting up her laptop, she sat down, still fully dressed in the clothes she’d worn all day, besides the gun she’d taken off and laid on the table beside her. Her hair was still tightly secured in a ponytail. He figured that for a good thing. The last thing he needed was to have those long auburn tresses moving freely around him.
“You mind if I set up here?” he asked, pointing to a spot where, with a couple of folders moved, he could have some free space.
She grabbed the folders, showed him the closest electrical outlet, offered an extension cord and then sat down to work.
If he was lucky, he’d make it through the night just fine.
They ate dinner while they worked. Kerry directed Rafe to help himself to anything he wanted to drink, told him where to find things, and sat down with her cardboard box filled with ribs and coleslaw. Had she been alone, she’d have had a glass of wine. With Rafe there, she stuck to water.
“You done there?” His question broke the silence that had fallen over them for most of the evening. She looked up to see him pointing to her mostly empty dinner container. His, which looked as though it had practically been licked clean, was in his hand.
“Yeah, thanks,” she said, handing it to him. He was standing. She was sitting. Which put the crotch of those flannel pants right in her line of vision. She closed her eyes. And then jumped up. She’d forgotten the laundry. “I’m going to put your things in the dryer,” she said. And pretended to herself that she wasn’t fantasizing as she pulled each piece of his laundry from the washer, one at a time, touching each one, as she tossed it into the dryer. The underwear was last. Boxer briefs. Two pairs. Not one.
He’d had on a black pair the night before. She’d just thrown a black pair in the dryer and the last item of clothing was an identical pair. Only these were blue. Obviously donned after his shower that morning. So... What was he currently wearing?
The answer was fairly obvious. Those flannels were it.
The woman inside her got a little bit excited at the thought.