Page 13 of Heather's Truth

“It means I underestimated you and what you do for them. I’m sorry.”

He heard the soft gasp, waited for the outraged reaction, but she surprised him.

“Go on.”

He cleared his throat. “I contacted one of the people you identified as likely second or third tier involvement.”

“Lawrence Zelnick,” she whispered. “Aw, hell. That would do it.”

“I rushed it,” he admitted. “I really thought there were more possible sources for the information you gave me.”

“I see.”

That’s what terrified him. The evidence she’d given him, the logical way she’d laid it out proved her IQ and analytical skills were far above the average diner waitress. Not that smart people didn’t work in odd careers or frequently find themselves under-employed, but her resume showed a scattered and often eclectic assortment of jobs. He’d seen the pattern in drifters and young people struggling to find their place. And with every word, Heather was proving she didn’t fit either category. “You know, Sheriff Cochran is right to want you in law enforcement.”

“Flattery isn’t necessary here.” She sighed. “Did you find a connection to Lester? Is that what tonight was about?”

“That wasn’t flattery.”

She dismissed that with a flick of her hand. “If I wanted to be a part of the legal system I am more than capable of taking the appropriate steps.”

“True. That’s not—”

“Being undercover with you on this is as close as I intend to get,” she said. “End of discussion.”

He wanted to know why she let people get away with underestimating her. Not only did it annoy him that he’d been one of those people, but he’d compounded that error and put her in harm’s way.

“Why?” she asked quietly.

“Why what?” He’d lost the thread of the pertinent conversation.

“Why did you rush it?”

In the Army when you screwed up you owned it. Part of it was accountability, the other was self-preservation: nothing diffused a tirade like admitting the error.

“A couple of reasons,” he began. “I have a full case load and this looked simple.” It was the only reason he wanted to share tonight.

“Where to now?”

It took him a second to catch up with the latest conversational shift. He didn’t believe she’d really accepted the truth so graciously, but he wasn’t about to dwell on his mistake if she was willing to let it go. “My place. Tomorrow morning we’ll make it look like we’re headed for somewhere decadent to celebrate.”

“But we’re really headed into the woods, right?”

He nodded. In more ways than one.

Chapter 4

Heather’s cell phone alarm sounded off way too early for a day off. Her body recognized this fact without her brain doing much beyond reaching for the alarm.

She rolled over and flung her hand toward her night stand, but found only air.

It came back to her in a rush. Not her bed. She’d insisted on taking the recliner. She wouldn’t see her bed for the rest of the weekend. She wasn’t due at the Rooster for the breakfast shift. She was on a mission. With Dale. Last night she’d tried to count this whole misadventure as a blessing, an unexpected weekend off. A lark.

She couldn’t maintain the same opinion in the predawn hours.

“What is that?” Dale called from the bedroom.

The bed springs squeaked as his deep voice rumbled across her senses. The big house suddenly felt far too quiet.