“He doesn’t have that kind of imagination.”
“He’s a good cop.”
Janie went back to gazing out the window. “That’s what Officer Long said. Williamson might be a good cop, but he sees everything in black and white. He’d be a great cop if he used a little imagination.”
“A cop isn’t supposed to read more into a crime scene than what’s there. It clouds the picture.” Now he had her attention. Then, he added, “You’ve only met the man twice. Neither of which I’d call the best situation. Cut him a little slack.”
“I’d paint him in black, gray and white. No bright colors. He’s an unhappy man.”
Rafe couldn’t disagree with that. Right before Rafe took over the job of Laramie County sheriff, Nathan had gone through an ugly divorce. It had changed him. Before that, he’d been the slap-on-the-back kind of cop you went to with your troubles. After his divorce, he became a by-the-book, let’s-get-this-done and quickly, kind of cop.
“You and Long seemed to be getting along quite well,” Rafe observed.
“He’s a nice kid.”
“He’s older than you.”
“It’s because he’s always so nervous. Makes me think he’s just a kid.”
“And here I’d hoped you were relaxed around him because you’d gotten over your mistrust of cops. Instead it was because you see him as a nervous kid.”
To his surprise, she didn’t answer. Just went back to staring out the window.
“What happened? What made you so distrustful of cops?”
“Katie didn’t tell you?”
He knew she was thinking back to how her sister had set up their one date. “No, not really. She just said you’d had a bad experience. I figured it had something to do with what happened when you lived with your aunt. She was an alcoholic, right?”
“There are all kinds of alcoholics. Some can function, go to work, take care of a kid. Others...”
“Such as your aunt,” he commented.
“Others, such as my aunt, are neglectful and...” She paused before finally saying, “Hurtful.”
A sign reading Scorpion Ridge, twenty-five miles, flashed by. They were almost home, and this might be his only opportunity to find out what made her so hesitant when she was with him.
“Did a cop somehow make things worse for you?”
“Yes, more than one.”
Rafe whistled. “More than one. No wonder I had my work cut out for me to convince you I’m a nice guy.”
She didn’t laugh, or smile, or anything. Rafe got the idea she still wasn’t sure what to think. Her mistrust of people had kept her safe. Changing her perceptions meant taking a risk. And with all that was going on, what a time for Janie to take a risk.
When Janie did begin to speak, it was in the direction of the window, toward the dark cobalt-blue that made for an intimate Arizona night. He could see her reflection, though. It made her words ethereal, somewhat ominous.