One Good Man(7)

He walked toward her, detouring to the opposite side of the table from where she stood. It would be easier to talk to her from here. “Ask me.”

Her gaze came up. Her chin, too. She tilted her head to one side, toyed with the end of her ponytail where it fell over her shoulder. He got a kick out of her scrubs top, with its teddy bears wearing firefighter gear, wielding hoses, mounted on ladder trucks.

Finally, she spoke. “I’m not sure you being so perceptive is a good thing or bad.” She added a smile; shy, he thought. “I mean, it’s good since you’re an investigator…”

“But it’s bad because it’s your case I’m investigating? And I might pick up on things you prefer keeping close to the vest?”

She nodded, released her hold on her shoulder strap and lowered slowly to sit again on the picnic table’s bench. “Something like that. Though Roni and Honoria know where I came from and what happened, my mother has made sure that I’m anything but an open book.”

And here he was turning her pages. He sat, too.

“It’s strange having so few friends to confide in. Living a solitary sort of life.” She looked off into the distance, smiling, but for her own benefit, not his. “I was just thinking this morning that I’m a hop and a skip away from turning into a crazy cat lady. Or I would be if I had the cats.”

“I hope you’re not going to. Hop and skip in that direction.” He wanted to give her a reason not to. A reason, instead, to reach for the full life she’d been denied. He couldn’t imagine what things had been like for her, existing, not living, within a bubble he doubted was insulated against fear.

She looked back, and shook her head, laughing. “I’ve been tempted, but so far I’ve resisted the lure of feline ownership. And of covering a multitude of sins with lace doilies.”

She had a sense of humor. Dry, self-deprecating. Even a little bit black. He liked that. Laughter cured a lot of ills. “If this works out, you might just be spared a future of cats, doilies and tea spiked with Jack.”

This time when she laughed, it was at his expense completely. “Known a lot of crazy cat ladies, have you?”

She was going to get close. He knew that as surely as he knew he was going to let her. Let her, hell. The way she was hitting his buttons, he’d probably roll out the red carpet before they were done.

“I’m happy to say my experience has been limited to movies and TV.”

“Then maybe I’ll be your first.”

Hoo-boy. The thought of her being his anything…He shook it off. All of it. The temptation, the attraction, the heat that had him wanting to do more than sweat.

He cleared his throat, pulled off his hat and set it on the table, brim up, crown down. “What I’m hoping is that you’ll be my first forensic-hypnosis success.”

There. He’d successfully switched them back on course. And just as successfully doused her good mood.

“You haven’t done this before?” Her voice cracked at the end of her question.

“I’m not the hypnotist, remember? But, no. I’ve never had cause to use hypnosis on a cold case before.”

She looked down, tugged her purse into her lap and held it close, toying with the rings that anchored both ends of the strap. “What if it doesn’t work? If I don’t remember anything that helps? Or anything at all?”

It was a very good possibility that would be the outcome. He knew that going in. She deserved to know it, too. But the way she’d withdrawn, pulled in on herself as if seeking shelter…She was asking for more than a simple answer.

He’d do his best to give her what would help. “As far as the case goes, I’ll rework what’s been worked before. New questions, a new investigator, it can make a difference in what memories are jarred. We’ve got the credit-card receipts from that night. We’ve got the same from the gas station next door. Those from the motels on either side, too. Someone who was there, working, gassing up, staying the night, stopping for a meal…1 hit them again. My angle. My methods.”

She was listening. She wasn’t looking at him, but she was still, attentive. He took a deep breath and went on. “But as far as what will happen with you…”

Her head came up then, her chin trembling. Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill. She reached toward him with one hand, her fingers, her face imploring.

“If I can’t remember anything that helps, it’ll be hard, but I can live with it. What I can’t live with is having to leave here. I’m making it. It’s not the life I would have chosen, small town, small job, but I’m happy enough. If that little bit gets taken away…”

She closed her fingers, made a fist, held her lips pressed tight. “This is all I have, Kell. My life in Weldon. I’m safe here. I can’t mess that up. I can’t start over. There is no starting over.”

He wasn’t sure why she thought not remembering would mean starting over. What did she think would change? “If you don’t remember, things will go on as they have been—”

“No. They won’t.” She pulled away, sat straighter, taller. She didn’t need to dry her tears. They were already gone. “Going on as they have been would require that I not risk the sort of exposure my involvement in your investigation will bring.”

“It won’t be public—” he started to say, but she cut him off again.

“You can’t keep my involvement from going public. You’ll try. I know you’ll try. But it’ll leak out. Someone who knows about it will say something offhandedly, nothing they think twice about. But some listener will pick up on the news, and that spark will become a wildfire that’s out of control before you have a chance to blink. You know how these things are, Kell. How they happen.”

He did, but he wasn’t sure what to say. She seemed certain that whatever the result of the hypnosis, things would change. And since there was no guarantee that her refreshed memories would bring an end to the manhunt—or even give him a place to start—he couldn’t argue the validity of her concern.

All he could do was protect her to the best of his ability, and make sure she knew that he would be there anytime she needed him, for as long as she needed him, even after the case was closed.

He circled the table to sit beside her, their thighs close though he faced away from the store while Jamie faced forward. Rather than meet her gaze, he let his nearness assure her while he leaned his forearms on his knees and stared at what he could see of Weldon from here.

The town wasn’t small enough that he could stand at the southern city-limits sign and see all the way to the north, but that was only because the main drag took a left and a right before splitting at a fork. One way led to Alpine, the other to Marfa, with not much of Weldon beyond.

Sonora, Texas, the place where Jamie, as Stephanie, had done her growing up was only about three times the size of Weldon, but it wasn’t off the beaten path and tucked away in the craggy mountains as was her home for the last ten years.

He understood the lonesome appeal of the place; his cabin was similarly isolated. But he didn’t know if he and solitude got along well enough to spend their lives together. He wondered how Jamie did it. He was just about to ask her, when she scooted away.

“I need to get back to work before Honoria and Roni send out a search party.” She swung one leg then the other over the bench and stood.

Kell stood, too, hands at his hips. “Do you want me to make the arrangements?”

The look she gave him was full of so much sadness his gut started second-guessing his years of experience.

“How long will it take?” she asked, hitching her shoulder strap higher.

“To set things up? I can do it this afternoon.”

“And how soon would it happen?”

“As soon as you want.” He couldn’t tell if she wanted to get it over with or put it off.

“Tomorrow? Is that too soon?”

Not if it was up to him. “Do you want me to have the team come here?”

“No,” she hurried to say, shaking her head vehemently. “I don’t want anyone here to know I’m doing this. Or for anything about that night to touch my life here. At least no more than it already has.”

He gave a single nod, one of agreement but also of sympathy. Her part was to be brave. His part was to make her bravery easier. “I can set up the session at the Ranger station in Midland.”

“That’s fine.”

He could tell she wanted to get away from this conversation. “I’ll get a room for the night and make the arrangements, then give you a call this evening. We can drive up together tomorrow, and I’ll bring you back when we’re done.”

Finally, a smile found its way to her face. “There’s not much in the way of overnight accommodations in Weldon. You can try to get a room at the Cordoba Inn, though it’s usually booked solid through Labor Day by summer vacationers, as is Indian Lodge. There’s the hotel at the state park in Balmorhea, but same thing, especially with the spring-fed pool there, and it’s about thirty-five miles away anyway. Of course, there’s always my extra bedroom if nothing pans out.”

He’d take it. “If I don’t have to drive half the day looking for a room, I’ll have more time to make sure we can do this tomorrow.”