Rachel Lee - A Secret In Conard County

Then again, her job had taught her to be suspicious of even the apparently ordinary, like a cop pulling up behind her on a nearly deserted highway. In the fifteen minutes she’d been parked here, she’d watched several trucks tear by at top speed, and a few pickups and cars. Now there was nothing in sight except the vehicle pulling up behind her.

Instinctively she slipped her hand into her suit jacket and gripped the butt of her service pistol, thumb on the safety. A few minutes passed and she knew what he was doing: checking her out-of-state plates. At last she saw the door open and its occupant climb out. Watching in her side-view mirror she took in the khaki uniform, the tan cowboy hat, the gun belt. As he walked closer, she noted that he was tall and strongly built. He had an easy stride, a comfortable bearing. Okay, he wasn’t looking for trouble.

She waited, not yet ready to remove her hand from her pistol. It was too soon to trust anyone, most especially someone in a uniform. The guy who had nearly killed her had been wearing a police uniform.

He reached the side of her car and bent down, giving her a full view of his rugged face. Late thirties, maybe? Sun and wind had taken a bit of toll. He looked at her from aquamarine eyes that reminded her of the waters around the Florida Keys. The punch of instant attraction she felt was unwelcome and unwanted.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asked through the three-inch opening she’d left in her window. His voice was pleasantly deep.

“Fine, just resting,” she answered.

“Lonely place for a break,” he remarked.

“Better than running off the road because I’m tired.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “True. You wanna tell me what you’re holding under your jacket?”

Smart, too, she thought. And a stupid rookie mistake on her part to telegraph that she was holding something. Another sigh escaped her as she realized he wasn’t just going to walk away. Now she’d have to explain and get out of the car despite the pain and deal with an alert county mountie. She could have stood on her rights, but he also had a court-granted right to protect himself. Time to cooperate.

“Deputy,” she said, “I’m holding my sidearm. If you want to back up, I’ll pull it out where you can see it and show you my ID.”

He scanned her face quickly, nodded once and backed up to the rear of her vehicle. At the same time he released the snap on his own holster and drew his pistol.

He was good, Erin thought sourly. She hoped this didn’t drag on for too long. On the other hand, at this point she was fairly certain he was exactly what he appeared to be. Now it was her turn to reassure him.

She pulled her pistol out of the holster, rolled down the window all the way and placed the pistol on the top of the car, grimacing as her ribs screamed. Dang, she felt naked now. And he was still watching from the back, his gun at the ready.

She pushed the door open, wincing with every movement. Getting away for a while had been a great idea. Sitting still for so long in a car hadn’t been. Every single injury that had brought her to this point protested. Torn muscle and scarred skin cried out. She wondered if she’d be able to stand.

Moving cautiously, as much because of her body as anything, she climbed out, keeping her hands in plain view. Then, facing him, her hands up, she called, “FBI. I’m going to pull my ID out of my pocket, okay?”

“Go for it,” he answered, keeping a bead on her.

She’d stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket. Now she jabbed her aching fingers in and fished it out. It took both her hands to flip it open and show it.

He scanned it, then holstered his pistol and walked up to her. She let him take the badge case and study it.

“Mind if I call this in?”

“Be my guest, as long as I can sit down again.”

Those amazing eyes of his leaped from the case to her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Two weeks out of the hospital. Not everything is up to par.”

“Wanna sit in my car?”

“That’s more moving than I want to do right now, Deputy.” She scanned his name badge. Deputy Conroe. “I’ll just perch here while you check me out.”

She hated it when he took her pistol off the roof of her car and carried it with him. She understood, but hated it anyway. These days she couldn’t stand having the thing out of her sight.

Five minutes passed while she sat with her feet on the dirt and her bottom on the edge of the driver’s seat. Warm, dry prairie winds blew over her, and at last another burst of traffic arrived, sweeping past them and leaving even more heat in its wake. She watched them go by in both directions, hoping they were all feeling better than she was. On their way to exciting destinations. Not just on the run from themselves.

She heard crunching and looked over her left shoulder to see Deputy Conroe coming back. He carried her badge case and her gun, apparently satisfied.

She managed a faint smile as he passed them back to her. “Sorry for the hassle, Agent Sanders.”

“No hassle,” she admitted. “Once you knew I was armed we were going down this road, weren’t we? Some things you have to do.”

He surprised her then by squatting so their faces were nearly level. “You’re not all right. Even I can see it. You want a ride into town? We can pick up your car later.”

She looked into that rugged face and read more than a professional concern. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do in town. I’m just rambling.”

“I heard. So let’s get you and your gear to someplace where you can rest. If you’re worried about your car, I can get it towed before we leave here.”

She wondered what else he’d heard in those five minutes. She had the worst urge to tell him she didn’t need any help, but a glance to the west warned her there wasn’t much time left before the sun sank behind those mountains. Weariness had caught up with her and seemed to be deepening by the minute. What was she going to do? Sleep out here in her car? Messed up though she was, she retained a vestige or two of common sense.

“Thanks,” she said finally.

“Give me your keys. Suitcases in the trunk, right? I’ll help you get into my car, we’ll wait for the tow and then I’ll take you into town. You can sleep if you want.”

For the first time in months, Erin felt peace wash over her, as if the universe had just sent a blessing her way. Maybe there was still some good left after all.

* * *

Lance Conroe figured Agent Erin Sanders had no idea how bad she appeared right now. Framed by short dark hair, her face displayed smooth, classic lines, but just then she looked as pale as white muslin, and awfully fragile. Her sherry-brown eyes were a bit sunken. Given what she did for a living, he didn’t figure this was the former version of herself. Sure must have been some kind of hell that put her in a hospital and left her dragged out like this.

He had to walk slowly to stay beside her, but he didn’t offer to steady her, suspecting that might offend her. When it came time for her to climb in the passenger seat of his SUV, however, she didn’t even try to argue against his assistance. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, his other beneath her knees and put her in the seat. Too easily. Light as a feather. Too light.

“Nap,” he suggested. “I’ll get a tow here in about twenty minutes.”

She closed her eyes and didn’t stir at all as he radioed for the tow truck and told them to step on it. While they waited, he unloaded two suitcases from the trunk of her vehicle. It must be her personal vehicle because he didn’t find additional weapons but he did find a Kevlar vest and dark blue FBI operations jacket. He brought those, too, placing everything in the back end of his car, squeezing it in among his own collection of job tools, from shotguns and ammunition, to protective clothing and rain gear. A cop’s trunk was his home away from home.