Linda O. Johnston - Lawful Engagement

So did her breathing, for an instant, while she tried to figure out what to say to fix things between them.

“So, Deputy, any more questions for me? I definitely want to cooperate so you can solve this murder.” Assuming the Sheriff’s Department did solve this one.

Was it her imagination, or did the blankness in his gaze soften just a bit? “I’m sure you do. And, yes, I’ll have more questions for you, though not right now.”

“Good. Then I’ll just follow these people and take pictures while they work.” She reached way down into her bag, past the notebook, cell phone and personal digital assistant, to extract her digital camera. “That way, when you catch the perpetrator, I’ll be able to describe the entire process.”

Mitch Steele was one handsome deputy even when he scowled. If Cara recalled his father’s story correctly, Mitch’s mother was Native American, which would help explain the blue-black richness of his hair, the strong slant to his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones and other features. That scowl of his only emphasized the well-honed planes of his face.

But when he let the corner of his mouth curve up in a half grin that way, Cara was sure he drove every woman in her right mind wild with lust.

She was in her right mind….

“No,” he said, bringing that creative imagination of hers back to reality.

“Pardon?”

“Ms…. Cara, I appreciate your cooperation. But you do not have my permission to get in the way.”

“I’ll stay out of the way. I promise.”

“Mm-hmm.” Though his murmur sounded affirmative, she was sure she was losing his attention, for he had turned to talk to one of the techs.

“If you let me follow them, I’ll tell you something I don’t think you know about Nancy,” she blurted out.

Damn! When was she going to stop speaking before she’d thought things through? She wasn’t always so adept at sticking her foot in her mouth. Something about this deputy was spurring her to foolishness.

But she had definitely regained his attention, for suddenly those piercing golden eyes were staring hard into her face. “If you have some knowledge about Ms. Wilks that’s relevant to this case, Cara, you’d better spill it. Now.”

MITCH WATCHED as the lovely Ms. Cara Hamilton back-pedaled. It would have been amusing if he hadn’t been certain that whatever she was hiding could be of significance in solving the murder of Nancy Wilks.

“You misunderstood.” The wide-eyed innocence in her luminous gaze didn’t convince him one bit. “I meant I don’t think you know how rotten Nancy felt that her job was disappearing so fast. She’d liked working at Lambert & Church. You know, the law firm where Paul Lambert was a partner? The guy who killed himself in jail after his murder of a local rancher was exposed?”

“Of course I know of it.” But Mitch hadn’t been directly involved in the case, despite its high profile. Maybe because it was so high profile, for though he had the seniority and authority to supervise on the most critical cases, Sheriff Ben Wilson made sure Mitch had other responsibilities that kept him busy. Like reorganizing the deputies on patrol so those who worked hardest got more to say about choosing their shifts.

Just like he’d been swamped with putting together the latest program to keep kids off drugs during the investigation of the murder prior to the one involving Lambert, the first murder the town had seen in two years. Most people claimed it was even longer than that. High profile? Heck, that one had been the highest profile, since the mayor himself had turned out to be the killer. And the victim had been a lawyer at the same firm, Lambert & Church.

The same place where the latest victim had worked. Was there a connection among the three killings? Hell, yes. There had to be. Mustang Valley wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. And with that same law firm at the center of all three… Mitch would follow that connection and see where it led.

Unlike the other killings, solving this case was his. And once he put it all together, he’d insist on the recognition he deserved. For once. No matter how much it galled others.

Although, partial invisibility would help with his personal, highly frustrating, agenda. So would following Sheriff Wilson’s orders—more or less.

Still, good thing Ben Wilson hadn’t thought that putting Mitch on the night shift for a while would lead to something big. Like being the first at a murder scene. And that gave him the advantage in staying in charge.

This time, his self-imposed patience—so much against his driven nature—would pay off.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Deputy—” Cara Hamilton’s lilting voice interrupted his thoughts. In the shadowed light from the nearby streetlamp, she watched his face with what appeared to be total concentration. Almost as if she were trying to read his mind.

A disconcerting idea.

“Sorry, Cara. We’re not through. I still want to know exactly what you’re hiding.”

He had to hand it to her. The woman was good. Her innocent smile hardly wavered. “Not a thing. But if anything comes to me, I’ll be sure to let you know, Mitch. Okay?”

His mouth opened as he instinctively started to correct her. It might be all right for him to use her first name, but if she used his, he risked losing his appearance of authority. And distance. And everything that would give him an edge over this civilian.

No matter how much he’d liked the way she’d said it.

But before he could say anything, she’d turned and headed for the house. Again.

“Hey.” He hurried after her, swinging around so that she nearly walked straight into him. She looked up with that same guileless expression he was coming to recognize. The expression that lied as easily as her mouth. Guileless? Heck, the woman was an expert at deception. And nosy as all get-out. In his face, and in his way.

“Look, Ms. Hamilton. If you’re not willing to talk to me here, you’ll have to come to the station.”

His body blocked most of the light emanating from the porch behind him, so she stood in shadows. He could nevertheless see how her forehead crinkled as she mulled this over. He observed the arch to eyebrows, which, despite the dimness, seemed a similar shade of auburn as her hair. Its soft red hue must be natural, then. Interesting.

He’d note it in her profile as a witness and potential suspect. That was his only reason for noticing.

“Okay,” she said.

“What?” She’d confused him.

“Okay, I’ll come to the station so you can question me there.”

The lady was full of surprises. “Fine. Make it—” He glanced at his watch. He’d have to be here for a long while, till the crime-scene investigation was well underway. “—nine o’clock this morning.”

“Fine.”

“Meantime, I’ll send one of the techs out here to check you out.”

“To get my fingerprints so you can eliminate me as a suspect.” She confirmed what he’d told her before, her tone a little sarcastic, as if she didn’t believe he thought the forensics exam would clear her.

Maybe it wouldn’t, though right now his main reasons for sticking her on his suspect list—her limited cooperation and her being at the victim’s at one heck of a bad time for a social call—weren’t exactly proof of her guilt.

“That’s right. And to check to make sure you don’t have any gunpowder residue on you, too. That kind of thing.” Or any blood, though he saw none on her.

She stared but said nothing. He allowed her, this time, to walk away. As he watched her, she glanced at the house once more and then, assessingly, back at him. He shook his head.

With a look of annoyance, she headed toward the sidewalk, her long skirt swaying again with her determined stride. Was she going to leave before the techs checked her out? He held his breath, ready to go after her, until she turned again, crossed her arms and stood there, obviously impatient.