The Sheriff of Shelter Valley. Tara Quinn Taylor
was a common enough excuse.
“I met her.”
Oh. Beth frowned. “Was she from Shelter Valley?” Had the woman died? Why hadn’t Bonnie told her?
“Born and raised,” Greg said, his thumb tapping a rhythm on the couch beside him. “Shelby and I met in grade school. Dated all through high school. I think I always knew I’d marry her someday.”
“What happened?” And why was she taking this so personally?
“I asked her to marry me, but I wanted to wait until after I graduated from Montford and the police academy.”
Beth didn’t think she’d have agreed to wait—and was bothered by that thought. Did it mean she was impatient by nature? She certainly hadn’t had any indication of that up to this point. But she’d been so busy surviving, self-discovery hadn’t been much of an option.
As life in Shelter Valley grew more routine, things were starting to slip out from her hidden past, her hidden mind. She wanted that so badly.
And yet…she didn’t want it at all.
Ignorance allowed her to stay safe in Shelter Valley and raise her son.
Of course, maybe the reason she wouldn’t have agreed to wait had nothing to do with her; maybe it was just because of Greg. She couldn’t imagine having him in love with her and agreeing to wait a week, let alone years.
“During my last year of college, Shelby went to Los Angeles to visit a girl who’d lived with her grandparents in Shelter Valley during our senior year in high school. Shelby met some guy in California and was married within a month.”
“What?” Beth sat forward, completely forgetting that Ryan was sound asleep. Disturbed, the child lifted his head, eyes unfocused as he opened them. He fussed for a second and then settled against her and went back to sleep.
“She wanted out of Shelter Valley. Didn’t want to be trapped in this small town, raising a bunch of kids. She just hadn’t bothered to tell me that.”
“She was an idiot.” The words weren’t conciliatory or polite. Beth honestly couldn’t think of any dream better than a real home in this town, shared with a loving man. One who’d love Ryan, teach him the things a son should know. One who’d give her another baby or two…
But was it the real Beth thinking these thoughts? Or were they simply the desperate longings of a lost woman on the run?
“I like to think so,” Greg said, grinning at her. “Anyway,” he added, growing more serious, “that kind of put a kink in my plans for home and family.”
The softly spoken words lured her further into the dangerous conversation.
“That must’ve been at least ten years ago,” she said. “I can’t believe there haven’t been opportunities since then.”
“I spent the past ten years taking care of my father.”
“Bonnie told me,” Beth said, compassion welling up so strongly she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I’m so sorry.”
Tight-lipped, Greg didn’t say anything. Beth could almost feel his frustration…and pain.
Which was ridiculous. She barely knew this man.
She adjusted Ryan, moving him to her other shoulder. His sweaty hair had left a damp spot where his head had lain.
“So you didn’t date for ten years?” The superfluous words were probably all wrong, but what else could she ask?
“I dated,” Greg answered with a dim version of the grin he’d given her earlier. But he looked relieved, too, to have been rescued from whatever thoughts had been hounding him. “I just couldn’t find a woman willing to take on a paraplegic senior citizen.”
And Greg was not a man who would put his father in a full-time care facility unless there was no other choice.
Beth had never wished more than she did in that moment that she was free to like this man—and maybe let something develop between them. Something more than liking…
DR. PETER STERLING and Houston prosecuting attorney James Silverman faced each other in the elegantly furnished waiting room of Sterling Silver Spa, in the newly incorporated town of Sterling Silver, Texas. The spa’s last client had just left for the evening.
“Damn, it’s hot.” Dr. Sterling pulled at the collar of his pristine white shirt. He’d just walked over from visiting a new resident in the apartment complex a couple of blocks away. “August has got to be the worst month of the year.”
Silverman didn’t agree. He thought January’s cold was pretty miserable. But it wasn’t worth an argument to say so. Loosening his tie, he unfastened the top button of his dress shirt. How did Sterling do it? Just keep going every day, always looking perfect?
Didn’t the man ever get tired?
And what did it say about Silverman that he was damn exhausted?
“It’s time to hire someone new,” Sterling said, his eyes black points of steel as they pinned Silverman. “Winters isn’t working out. We should’ve heard something by now.”
“I know.” James undid a second button. He’d been unhappy with the private investigator for weeks. But he didn’t know whom he could trust. There was too much at stake.
“Every day that goes by puts us all in more jeopardy.”
“I know.”
“We can’t think only of ourselves,” Sterling reminded him, as he did in just about every conversation the two men had these days. “We have many, many good people relying on us.”
“I know.” No one knew that better than James Silverman. He didn’t need Sterling reminding him, pressuring him. He carried the burden of his mistake every waking—and sleeping—moment of his life.
He wasn’t going to fail his new family, his friends. If nothing else, he believed in the cause. In them. He might have lost his faith in most things, but he still believed in a better tomorrow, a world free of negative energy and aggression.
They’d worked too hard, for too long, and come too far to let a traitor ruin everything for them now.
“Beth’s dangerous.”
“Yes.” James felt sick.
“There’s no telling what she’s capable of.”
Silverman nodded.
“She has to be stopped,” Sterling said, his voice colder than any of his patients had ever heard. “At all costs.”
“I know.”
Satisfied, Sterling got to his feet. The meeting was over.
“We’ll get through this together,” he said, his tone softer. “Together we always find the cure, don’t we?”
James nodded, more because it was expected of him than because he was in a trusting mood that night. As he locked up, he wondered if the doctor’s cures were losing their effectiveness. For him, anyway… And that made Beth’s defection more dangerous than ever.
CHAPTER FOUR
AS HE LOCKED THE DOOR of his office, Greg thought about how he couldn’t lock away the impressions that continued to bombard him. There were puzzle pieces that definitely fit together—as clearly as the myriad jigsaws he’d worked on over the years. If only he could figure out how… Culver was right, there’d been many carjackings in the past ten years. No reason to believe that this year’s series had anything to do with the ones that had happened ten years ago. Except that in both cases, there had been a series.
Of course, Burt was also right in his claim that the occurrences near the border had been a series, too.