Текст книги "You're Not Safe"

Автор книги: Mary Burton

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

She remembered that night. It was their last together, and she’d been despondent. She’d threatened not to come to the final roundup at the campfire. Instead, she’d stayed in her room, nursing bitterness over Rory’s leaving.

It had been another kid, Jack, a quiet shy boy with stringy blond hair and thick glasses, who’d come to find her. He rarely spoke to her or anyone but that night he’d coaxed her out of her room, waving his camera and telling her she had to be in the picture. The others said the picture wouldn’t be complete without her. And so she’d pushed aside her anger and gone to the fire. Rory had tossed his arm around her, as if nothing were wrong, and kissed her on the lips. Then all of them had grinned at the camera. Jack had snapped the picture.

She traced Rory’s beautiful face. She’d read in the paper that his funeral was Monday afternoon. She wasn’t welcome but she’d be going. It seemed fitting.

Her gaze moved from face to face in the image. Two of the five were now dead. What had they done to warrant death? As she fingered the edge of the fading image she knew she had to give this to Bragg.

When Jennifer woke to the sharp scent of ammonia, a bright light shone in her eyes. Her brain, drowsy and sluggish, struggled to focus. She pushed through the confused thoughts, trying to remember what had happened. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she’d taken too many sleeping pills.

Ammonia cut through her airways.

She coughed as she sat straighter and realized her wrist was handcuffed to a bed.

“What is this?” Her voice sounded garbled and muffled like a drunk’s.

“It’s your chance.” The man’s voice came from beyond the light.

More sharp smells of ammonia and she coughed and shook her head no. “Get that away from me.”

He chuckled. “As soon as I know you’re awake.”

“I’m awake. I’m awake.” Fear hadn’t penetrated the thick grogginess.

“Good.”

She moistened dry lips. The last she remembered, she was in her car struggling to stay awake. She’d had a sip of water and wondered why she’d felt so drugged. “What’s wrong with me? I feel drugged. But,” she said, moistening dry lips, “that can’t be right. I haven’t had a drink in a year.”

“You’ve got to be careful about what you eat and drink.”

“I am.”

“Not careful enough.”

As her head began to clear, she looked into the face of the man speaking. His expression wasn’t menacing and his demeanor relaxed. He dressed well. Smiled.

She tried to sit up but her head spun. A glance around told her she was lying on a bed. She looked around the room. Simply furnished, there was a television, a desk and chair, and the two windows had been covered with black plastic and duct tape. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere safe.”

Fear flickered as did annoyance. “What does ‘somewhere safe’ mean?”

“It’s a place where we won’t be bothered. Where we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Again, she tried to sit up but found she was almost completely immobile. She jerked her hand. The cuffs rattled but didn’t budge. “What the hell?”

“I’m giving you an opportunity.”

“What are you talking about?” The sharpened edges of her voice belied his soft tones.

He turned away from her and sighed. “A chance to purge. To release the burden you’ve been carrying for twelve years.”

Twelve years. A cold chill oozed through her body freezing away any traces of annoyance. Some secrets, no matter how painful, had to stay buried. Now more than ever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He faced her, his smile sad and almost soothing. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jennifer.” An edge had crept into his voice. “You need to release the secret.”

“I don’t have a secret.”

“Yes, you do. And before this night is over, Jennifer, your soul will be cleansed just as you’d dreamed of it being for years.”

Chapter Eighteen

Monday, June 9, 7 A.M.

The day’s heat had already kicked in when Bragg arrived at the murder scene a half hour after receiving the call from Winchester. Jennifer Bell had been found in her car, unconscious. The paramedics had removed her from the car, opened her airway, and begun CPR, but despite a frantic dash to the hospital, the doctors had pronounced her dead fifteen minutes ago.

Lights flashing, the area around the car had been roped off, but a growing number of curiosity seekers now stared at the technicians as they photographed Jennifer Bell’s car.

The area was on a residential side street near the entrance to Northwest Park. It was going to be a pretty day with milder temperatures and soon this area would be teeming with folks out to enjoy a Monday morning jog.

Bragg settled his hat on his head as he moved toward the crime-scene tape billowing in a soft breeze. He was clean shaven, his hair still wet from the shower. “What do we have?”

Winchester tore his gaze from the empty car. “She somehow managed a call to paramedics an hour and a half ago. She wasn’t able to speak, but they traced the GPS on her phone.”

He pulled plastic gloves from his pocket and put them on. “Did she say anything else to the nine-one-one operator?”

“She didn’t say a word. The operator asked her a bunch of questions but she didn’t answer.”

He glanced past Winchester to the car. The door was open and the ground around it littered with the paramedic’s discarded wrappers. “Are we sure she placed the call?”

Winchester shrugged. “All I can say for sure is the call was placed from her phone in this location.”

Frustration snaked up his back and curled around his shoulders. His first thought was for Greer. He reached for his cell and dialed. The phone rang twice before she said, “Greer Templeton.”

“Greer. Tec Bragg.”

A heavy silence followed. “What can I do for you?”

He turned from Winchester and the other cops and stared off toward the wooded park. “Where are you now?”

“At Bonneville. I’m getting into my truck and headed into the fields with Mitch as soon as he waters the horses.”

Relief corralled his anxiety. She was on her property. Safe. And Mitch was with her. “Do you have time to meet later today?”

She dropped her voice. “What’s this about?”

Around him cop-car lights flashed. Media gathered. “Not over the phone.”

A heavy hesitation sizzled over the line. “Sure. I’ll be on the property until two.”

“Where are you going at two?”

“Austin. Is there a problem?”

He didn’t want to tell her about Jennifer like this. “Just need a few details clarified.”

“Sure.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why are you coming into the city?”

She paused. “I’m going to Rory’s funeral. It’s today.”

He frowned, his mind targeting all that could go wrong at the funeral. “Is that such a good idea?”

“Doubtful. But I’m going.”

“Greer, think about this. David Edwards is only going to cause you trouble.”

“I’m just going to pay my respects. I’ll keep my distance.”

He considered all the logical reasons she shouldn’t go and sensed he could lay them all out and she’d still do as she pleased. He checked his watch. “The funeral is at three?”

“Yes. The Catholic church in West Lake Hills.”

He catalogued the information. “I’ll meet you there.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s as good a place as any. We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“Stay close to Mitch. He can look out for you.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Don’t mean to.” It took effort to soften his voice.

“Okay. See you then.”

He closed the phone and stuck it back in his belt cradle.

Winchester studied him. “What was that about?”

“Checking in with Greer.”

A small smile tweaked the edge of Winchester’s lips. “You wanted to make sure she was okay?”

No sense denying it. “Yes.”

Winchester studied him closely. “That’s not like you. In fact, I don’t remember you ever taking such a personal interest in a person associated with a case.”

He shrugged. “I am now.”

“Why? And don’t give me a story about it being about the case. I sang that song enough when Jo was in danger last year.”

Bragg squared his shoulders. “It’s about the case.”

“It’s about her.” Winchester shook his head. “Don’t bullshit me or yourself.”

Bragg shifted his stance. “What is this, like our special girl-sharing time?”

Winchester laughed. “You care about the woman.”

Bragg considered a rebuttal and then squashed it. The truth wasn’t as hard to swallow as he’d thought. He cared about Greer. “I hardly know the woman.”

Winchester chuckled. “Doesn’t take a lot of facts or time to form an attraction. She’s a good-looking woman and looks like she could go up against you and not break a sweat.”

“She’s a tough gal.”

“Men like us need strong, independent women. Not easy being with a Ranger. Shit, danger aside, we work ungodly hours. Jo gets that. And Greer would, too.”

“Last I checked you had her figured for a suspect.”

Winchester shrugged. “I might be amending my opinion.”

“Why?”

“For one the analysis on the tire tracks at Rory’s crime scene came back. They don’t match any of Greer’s vehicles. And I got the analysis surveillance tapes from area hardware stores about an hour ago. We targeted stores selling generators. All were men.”

“Any positive ID?”

“No. But none were Greer.”

He didn’t need confirmation on Greer’s innocence, but having evidence would help her avoid any undue scrutiny from the law later.

Bragg rested his hands on his hips as he surveyed the crowd. His feelings for Greer ran deeper than attraction. But the last damn thing he was going to do was discuss this with Winchester or anyone other than Greer.

Being with a Ranger. Yeah, he liked the sound of that.

“Has Jennifer Bell’s next of kin been notified?” Bragg said.

Winchester wrestled a grin from his face. “Her boyfriend is calling her parents who are in Europe right now.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. He fished through several pages. “His name is Adam Owens. He’d been contacted and he’s on his way to the hospital.”

“Good. I want to talk to him.”

“I’ll pull Jennifer’s phone records. Maybe the killer called her before she died. And I’ll get the uniforms going from door to door. They can hunt down security cameras and possible witnesses. Maybe somebody or a camera caught something.”

“Any word on Michael Sycamore?”

“Not yet. His secretary in Houston says he’s on vacation and won’t return for another week.”

“Does she know where he went?”

“No, but she’s trying to track him.”

“We need to find that guy as soon as possible.”

“Think he’s behind this?”

“If he’s not, he’s in danger.”

“So is Greer.”

“I know.”

Bragg drove to the hospital emergency room. The hum of machines mingled with the chatter of doctors, nurses, patients, and family. He went straight to the information desk and after showing his badge was directed to the curtained cubicle where the doctors had worked on Jennifer.

“Her boyfriend is in with her now,” the nurse said. “He asked the doctor for a moment.”

“Thanks.”

Bragg found Jennifer’s cubicle, arriving as Adam Owens stepped out from behind curtain dividers. His dark hair was slicked back as if he’d just gotten out of a shower, and he wore madras shorts, a white shirt, and deck shoes. The faint scent of aftershave drifted around him.

Adam glanced up at Bragg, red-rimmed eyes taking in the Ranger star, white hat, and gun. “You’re here for Jennifer?”

Bragg nodded. “Mr. Owens, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He pressed the heel of his hand to his temple as if it pounded. “We were talking on the phone last night after she closed the shop. She was supposed to come by the house, and we were going to have dinner. She sounded excited and happy. I was going to grill steaks for us. And then she texted me and told me she wasn’t feeling well. Said she’d call in the morning. I texted her back and told her I loved her. She sent back a heart.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe she’d overdose. That does not make sense.”

What made sense was that she’d been murdered. Three people now who’d lived together in the same pod at Shady Grove were dead. All that remained were Greer and Michael. “She gave you no indication there was a problem?”

“No. She was in a great mood.” He glanced back at the curtained walls that separated him from Jennifer’s body. “She was running late but it was because it had been a busy day at the store. Sales had been exceptional.”

Bragg frowned. “Did she say anything about those customers? Any one of them strike her as odd or out to make trouble?”

“No. Not a word. She was really happy. We were supposed to get married in the spring. She went to New York for her wedding-dress fitting last week. Both her parents came. She’s an only child and the sun rises and sets on her.”

Bragg searched for words to heal, but couldn’t find the right ones. Best he could do for this man was find Jennifer’s killer. “I’d like to have a look around her shop.”

Owens dug in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. His hands trembled as he tried to find the right one.

Bragg took pity on him, remembering how rattled he’d been when his sister had died. He took the keys. “Show me.”

Owens shoved out a sigh and handed Bragg the ring. “Third on the right. It’s gold.”

Bragg found the thick brass key. “Can I take this off the ring?”

Owens threaded long, lean fingers through his hair. “Sure. You can have the ring.”

“No, sir, you’re going to need your keys when you get home. Did you drive yourself here?”

“Yes.”

Bragg held on to the ring of keys. “Is there someone you can call to drive you home?”

Owens stared at the floor as if the enormity of the moment hit him like a truckload of bricks. “What?”

Bragg softened the edges of his voice. “Someone you can call to drive you home?”

Adam shook his head. “I just can’t believe she’s dead. She appears to be sleeping. She’s so beautiful. It makes no sense.”

Bragg pulled his cell phone and dialed DPS and ordered a patrol car. “Sir, I’m going to have an officer drive you home. I don’t want you driving.”

Adam shook his head. “I can drive.”

“No, sir.” Instead of handing the keys back to Owens he flagged a nurse and gave them to her with instructions to hold them until an officer arrived. He also told her to find the hospital chaplain.

A half hour later he opened the front door of Jennifer’s shop. He flipped on the lights. An eerie silence greeted him, making him feel as if the shop had died with its owner. Looking at the attention to detail in the displays and window dressings and the way the counter had been left clean and ready for business on Monday, he could tell she’d clearly loved and took pride in this store.

He went back to her office and turned on more lights. He checked receipts for the day neatly organized in a pile in the center of her desk. He noted five purchases. All over three thousand dollars. All cash. It was as if a parade of patrons had flocked to her door. Her most successful day had been her last.

It didn’t take much effort for Bragg to locate the church holding Rory’s funeral. It was in West Lake Hills, nestled in a small residential neighborhood. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes before three. After parking, he scanned the area and spotted Greer’s truck parked under a tree. To his surprise she was still in the truck.

Out of his car, he moved closer and saw she’d brushed out her hair letting it flow over her shoulders. She wore a black dress, no jewelry except for the bracelets. In the big truck’s cab she looked small and vulnerable—both descriptions would no doubt make her angry.

When she saw him approaching, her frown deepened. She slid out of the truck. “Why did you want to meet me at the funeral?”

The sun beat on his back but the warmth building in him had to do with her. “I’m here for you.”

“Why? I can handle this.”

A slight breeze teased the hair framing her face. The urge to touch her was strong, undeniable.

When he didn’t answer, she glanced toward the church’s large wooden doors. “I should be going inside. The service starts soon.”

“Why haven’t you gone inside yet?”

Her brow furrowed. “I’ve been sitting here for the last fifteen minutes hoping to gather my courage. But now I really must leave.”

Without thought, he took ahold of her arm. The touch of her skin electrified, felt better than he imagined.

She glanced at his hand and when she raised her gaze back to his her cheeks were flushed. She made no move to pull away.

“I wanted to give you the news in person.” He paused. “Jennifer Bell is dead.” He studied her face, watching it transform from curiosity to shock to horror. The urge to comfort was so strong, but he shoved it aside.

She cleared her throat. “What happened?”

He wanted to tell her. “Tell me about Jennifer. Why was she at Shady Grove?” This close his height could intimidate, but she didn’t shy away.

She lifted a chin. “She never wanted anyone to know.”

He hesitated, feeling the weight of the words he needed to speak. “She’s dead.”

A sigh shuddered from her.

His fingers squeezed her arm gently, urgently. “Greer. Tell me.”

“She came to the camp about a week after I did.” Questions demanded answers but he held them at bay, giving her a moment to explain. “At first, she wouldn’t tell us what she’d done. It had to be bad to land at Shady Grove.” A silence settled between them as if she had stumbled into the past.

“Greer. What did she do?”

“She took an overdose of her mother’s painkillers. Her mother found her barely in time. Her stomach was pumped, and she was sent to Shady Grove.”

“Why did she try to kill herself?”

“She and her brother were at the family lake house. She said she dove into the lake and then dared her brother to do the same. He didn’t want to, and she called him a coward. He got mad and dove. When he hit the water he struck a log and broke his neck. He died days later. She blamed herself.”

He thought about what Adam Owens had told him about Jennifer being an only child. Was she the only remaining child or had she lied to the group at camp? Lies seemed more common than not at that place. “Rory had been heard saying he wanted to see you again. Your picture was nailed to the tree where he was hung and his body was on your property. Sara wanted her mother’s forgiveness for an abortion. There was a tape of her mother’s voice playing over and over in the freezer. And we found a baby doll in her trash can. Jennifer was found dead of an overdose. This killer is re-creating past failures, granting last wishes, and then killing suicide survivors. What did Jennifer want?”

“I don’t know. I guess she wanted to wish away her brother’s accident.” Tears pooled in her eyes.

“Her fiancé said she was an only child.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I remember her telling me about her brother. It was a bond we shared.” Greer swiped away a tear, shaking her head. “Jennifer was a complicated girl. I always suspected there was so much she wasn’t saying. Sara picked up on it in camp. She pressed Jennifer one night to be truthful, but instead of talking, Jennifer left the circle.”

“She left her shop late yesterday afternoon. First, she spoke to her fiancé, Adam Owens, and then she said she was on her way home. Minutes later, she texted Owens and said she was sick. Twelve hours later she’s dead. Where was she? What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Whoever killed those three has to be connected to Shady Grove. Someone who knew you and the others and who also knew intimate details of those kids’ lives also is killing them one by one.”

Her hands shook. “Why?”

He shook his head. “That’s a question you can answer better than me.”

“How would I know?”

“You lived inside that camp. You knew the players better than I did. I’m pushing hard now for a search warrant for the medical records, but I need your help.”

She pulled out of his grip and reached inside her truck and from her purse removed a picture. She handed it to him. “I found this in a closet last night. I’d planned to give it to you.”

He instantly recognized Greer leaning into Rory, a handsome boy with an electric smile. Next to Rory stood Sara and beside her Jennifer, a haunted pain lingering behind her smiling eyes. Next to her stood a tall lean boy with dark hair. He had a goofy, over-the-top grin that suggested he overcompensated for hidden fears.

“That is Sam,” she said, following his gaze.

“His real name is Michael Sycamore. He lives in Houston and no one has seen him for a week.”

“I’ve not seen him since camp.”

“There’s been no one around you that you’ve seen, say at the party, that could have been him?”

“No.”

“What about the caller at the Crisis Center. You said it sounded like a woman, but could it have been him pretending?”

She frowned. “No. I mean at the time I thought I was speaking to a woman but now I don’t know.”

“Tell me about the night this photo was taken.”

“It was the last night we were all together. I didn’t want to go at first. I hate good-byes, and I didn’t want to see Rory go. But I went and we sat around that night clinging to each other because we knew our time together was ending. Rory was being sent home the next day, and we knew Sara, Jennifer, and Sam, I mean Michael, would follow soon.” She traced Jennifer’s face, closed her eyes, and then as if a memory drifted from the shadows said, “That last night we all shared our dying wish.”

“What were they?”

“Rory said he’d die happy if I were the last person he saw. Sara wanted her mother to love her.”

“Did Jennifer say she wanted her brother back?” Bragg asked.

She closed her eyes and then when she opened them he saw surprise. “No, she said she wanted forgiveness.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’d almost forgotten.”

“Whom did she want forgiveness from?”

“She never said. I’d assumed her family. Mine hadn’t forgiven me.”

“But you didn’t ask for forgiveness. You wanted your brother back.”

She swallowed. “All that mattered to me was that Jeff wasn’t dead.”

“Think back to the conversations you had with Jennifer. What did she say?”

Frowning, she shook her head. “That last day we were all together I knew she wanted to talk to me, but we were all filled with emotion, just like any other teenagers. She struggled. But she never told me what was bothering her, and I never pressed.”

“What did Michael want?”

“For his father to pay attention to him. That’s why he stole from him in the first place.”

“This all started at Shady Grove.”

“It wasn’t a bad place. The doctors there were kind and loving, and it did a lot of kids good. I don’t understand why anyone would want to find us.”

He took her elbow in hand. A possessive move but he couldn’t resist not touching her any longer. “Be careful, Greer.”

Bright blue eyes sparked with a tiny hint of humor. “Sounds like you care about me.”

He studied her. “Maybe I do.”

For a moment she was silent as she stared into his gaze for signs of deception. “How do you know I’m not the killer?”

He brushed a strand of hair back away from her eyes. “I’m going on the assumption that you’re not. Plus, Winchester found evidence that cleared you.”

“The truck tires.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you care about me?”

“Maybe because of Mitch. Maybe I just like you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t put your trust in me, Ranger. I’m not so sure I deserve it.”

He saw the hurt in her eyes and it troubled him. “Why do you say that? You’ll never forget the accident but Jeff wouldn’t want you living like this, would he?”

“No.”

Seconds later a hearse pulled up in front of the church. The doors to the church opened, a priest dressed in brightly colored vestments materialized, and organ music drifted out into the street.

Behind the hearse was a long black stretch limo. It stopped and out stepped David Edwards, dressed in a crisp black suit, and a tall blonde wearing sunglasses. He pressed his hand into the blonde’s back.

Greer’s body tensed and she drew closer to Bragg.

Greer wasn’t sure exactly when she’d decided to go to Rory’s funeral. There was no moment. No knowing. She’d just woken up this morning realizing it was something she had to do. She owed Rory a good-bye.

But now as she stared at David Edwards’s stiff-back posture, panic reared and clawed at her gut. As much as she wanted to slip back into her truck, hide, and let the moment pass, she held her ground.

“You all right?” Bragg said.

She felt the color drain from her face. “I’m not great at funerals. I’ve only been to my aunt’s.”

“What about your father’s?”

“I wasn’t invited. And you know I missed Jeff’s because I was in the hospital.”

She watched as a handful of pallbearers moved behind the hearse and opened the door. She recognized Rory’s brother, tall and broad shouldered.

Other cars arrived. A handful of mourners trailed into the church. Pallbearers supplied by the funeral home removed a polished walnut casket and each grabbing a brass handle lifted the weight to climb the stairs. Organ music grew louder. Edwards followed his brother’s casket into the church.

Bragg rested his hand on her shoulder and she jumped. “I’m right here.”

“I’m not backing down.”

As if understanding her need to do this, he reached past her, pulled her keys from the ignition, and closed her car door. “We’ll go in together.”

Unable to speak, she nodded.

He took her elbow in hand and guided her into the sanctuary and to a pew in the back. He removed his Stetson and reached for a hymnal. She accepted it, grateful for the task of finding the song. Finally she found the page and held it up for the two of them.

The room was not full. Little more than a dozen people, clearly acquaintances of David’s, hovered in the first pews. Rory’s brother sat on the right with the lovely blond woman at his side. The other pallbearers stood to the left, and they all wore tags bearing their names above RYDER FUNERAL HOME.

Her hands trembled until Bragg’s hand came up under hers to steady it. Neither sang. She stared at the casket, sorry for the boy she’d once known. He’d been so beautiful physically that he drew women who wanted him and even men who wished they were him. But he had chosen her above all the others. And for a short time she’d felt loved and whole.

Only later did she realize under the beauty there’d been weakness.

The song ended and a white-haired priest dressed in ornate vestments stood in front of the casket. He spoke of Rory as a young man, full of hopes and dreams. Of too many wrong paths taken. The priest’s prayer spoke of Rory finding a place of peace and happiness.

More prayers followed and the priest offered the final blessing. Greer grew rigid as the pallbearers took the handles of the casket and lifted it.

She replaced the book in the seat pocket and glanced toward the door, wanting to make a quick escape before she was noticed.

“Steady,” Bragg said.

“I should go.”

“See it through. You’ll be better for it.”

“David doesn’t want me here.”

“You’ve every right.”

Bragg was not her friend. He was a cop. But he’d shown up to personally tell her about Jennifer and to support her. She couldn’t deny her attraction for him grew by the moment. She leaned into him, hoping to draw a little of his strength.

At first he didn’t move. He stood steady, afraid if he moved she’d pull away. When the casket passed, her grip tightened. When David spotted her, his gaze turning predatory, Bragg tightened his hold on Greer and tugged her a step closer as a signal to both David and Greer she was under his protection.

David Edwards glared but didn’t say a word, but his gaze bore the promise of paybacks to Greer for trespassing. The remaining mourners left the church, leaving Bragg and Greer alone.

Alone, the strain abated from her body and she realized he held her hand. Gently, she pulled away. “David is not pleased.”

Bragg grunted. “He’ll survive.”

She lingered, clearly hoping the funeral party would clear away before she had to leave. He seemed content to stand there alone with her. “Shame Rory had so few friends in the end.”

“Will you go to Sara’s funeral?”

“Her family hasn’t announced when it will be. But yes, I’ll go. I owe her that. And I’ll go to Jennifer’s.”

“What do you owe them?”

“A proper good-bye.”

He took her elbow and guided her out of the church. Harsh sunlight assailed them as they moved to the top of the church steps. He scanned the area, searching.

“Who are you looking for?” she said.

“The killer.”

“He would come here?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“Why?”

“Part of reliving the kill. The thrill of knowing he’s upended so many lives. To gloat. A lot of sick twisted reasons.”

“I never thought about that.”

“I want you to be thinking about it all the time now. Be very careful.”

“I will.”

He walked her across the street to her truck and waited as she climbed in and fired up the engine. She rolled down the window. “Thanks for the moral support.”

“Sure. What are you going to do today?”

“Work, what else? I’ll be consumed for days with that.” She sighed. “The vineyards to the rescue again.”

“How so?”

“Like I said before, the land doesn’t care about any troubles. It expects me, needs me. And right now I’m glad to be needed.”

Loneliness rose up from her as if it were part of her scent. He wanted to take her hand again. Tell her this storm would pass. “How many acres will you be harvesting?”

“We’ll start with the back one hundred and work our way forward.”

“Good luck. Be careful and call me if anything isn’t right.”

She shifted into first gear. “Thanks again, Ranger Bragg.”

He touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am.”

From her rearview mirror, she watched him, standing on the sidewalk staring after her.