Twice A Hero, Always Her Man. Marie Ferrarella

everything I know, but I need to know it. And once I have all the information and can process it, then I can move on.”

      He looked at her and made a judgment call. “So this really isn’t for your ‘story’?” he asked.

      “No. Not directly.” And then she qualified her statement. “That doesn’t mean that I won’t use a piece of what you tell me—but again, we’ll run it by you first. You’ll get the final okay.”

      He had to admit that he thought it a generous way to proceed. “Is this your normal procedure?”

      Ellie laughed. She had no idea that he found the sound captivating. “There is no such thing as ‘normal’ procedure. It is what it is at the moment.”

      Colin paused, considering her words and if he believed her.

      Like a lot of true dyed-in-the-wool detectives, he had “gut feelings.”

      “Gut feelings” that saw him through a lot and, on occasion, kept him safe. His gut feeling told him that the woman with the deep crystal-blue eyes was telling him the truth.

      He took a chance. “They died in an avalanche.”

      “That had to be terrible for you,” she said. It was certainly different from the usual car crash or drive-by shooting. She managed to control her reaction so he wasn’t aware that what he said had affected her.

      “It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for Heather, either,” he pointed out.

      “You were the one who broke the news to her?” Even as Ellie asked the question, she knew that he would have taken it upon himself to tell his niece. Benteen struck her as that sort of person. She was filled with empathy for both the detective and his niece, knowing what being told news like that felt like.

      “I wasn’t about to let anyone else do it,” he said.

      No, I wouldn’t have thought so.

      Without her realizing it, her estimation of the detective rose up yet another notch.

       Chapter Four

      Jerry appeared to be dozing in the news van, but he snapped to attention the moment the passenger-side door opened.

      “So, how did he take it?” the cameraman asked her.

      “Take it?” Ellie repeated absently as she climbed into the van. After closing the door, she pulled on her seat belt and snapped it into place.

      Jerry watched her intently for a moment. “You didn’t tell him that he was there the night your husband died, did you?”

      Ellie shrugged, settling into her seat. “I didn’t get an opportunity.” She avoided looking at Jerry as she said, “The timing wasn’t right.”

      Jerry turned his key, starting up the van. For an instant, the music he’d had playing on the radio stopped, then resumed. Someone was singing about surviving.

      “This isn’t the game-winning pitch to home plate we’re talking about, Ellie. Don’t you think the good detective should know that he tried to save the husband of the woman who was interviewing him?”

      “I don’t see how that would make any difference to this story,” she countered stubbornly.

      “No,” Jerry allowed, “but it might make a difference to him.”

      There was a measure of defiance in Ellie’s eyes as she turned them on Jerry.

      “Why? I’m going to treat him fairly. We’ve got nothing but glowing words for him in this spot. His CO seemed pretty high on him and I’m sure if we interview a couple of the people whose paintings were recovered, they’ll talk about him like he’s their patron saint come to earth.”

      Jerry sighed as he barreled through a yellow light before it turned red, narrowly missing cutting off a tan SUV.

      “He’s a good guy, yes, I get that. But that doesn’t change the fact that you should tell him about your connection,” he insisted.

      She didn’t see what good it would do and telling Benteen would force her to relive a night she couldn’t seem to permanently bury.

      “Why?” she challenged.

      Jerry gave her a look. “Because you shouldn’t be keeping it from him.”

      She didn’t normally get annoyed, but “normal” was no longer part of her daily life.

      “How did I get to be the bad guy in this?” she asked.

      “You’re not,” Jerry told her in a voice that was much lower than hers, “but if you don’t tell him, this is going to be something that’ll just fester between you and him—until it finally comes out. Think how uncomfortable you’ll feel then.”

      “Well, it’s not like we’re going to be working together or we’re a couple,” she pointed out impatiently. “Once the story airs, we probably won’t ever even run into one another.”

      The funny thing was, Ellie thought, that the detective was just the kind of man her mother would have picked out for her once upon a time. There was a lot about him that reminded her of Brett.

      The next moment, she shut all those thoughts down. “For now,” she said, addressing the point that Jerry had raised, “let’s just say that maybe I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.”

      “Is that it?” Jerry asked. “Or is it that you just want to hold something back and maybe, oh, I don’t know, spring it on him later?”

      Why in heaven’s name would she want to do that? Ellie shook her head.

      “I think that you’ve been watching too many procedurals, Jerry,” she told him.

      The light turned red, forcing Jerry to come to a stop and allowing him to really stare at her as he said, “No, it’s just that I care about you.”

      “Do me a favor. Care a little less,” she requested. “I can take care of myself.”

      Jerry frowned. The light turned green and he hit the gas again. “I’m not so sure about that.”

      What had gotten into him? Jerry had always been her chief supporter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “It’s just that sometimes I get the feeling that you’re just sleepwalking through life, that you’ve decided to check out.”

      He pulled into a parking spot but made no effort to get out. He’d faithfully followed her around and they made a great team, but she wasn’t about to hold on to him against his will.

      “Are you telling me that you want to switch news reporters?” she asked suddenly. “Because if you do, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

      “No, I don’t want to switch reporters.” He frowned. “You know, you never used to be this touchy.”

      “Things change,” she said vaguely.

      His eyes narrowed as they bore right into her. “Do they?”

      “Okay, now you’re really beginning to sound like my mother, and while I really love her, I do not need two of her,” she informed him, one hand on the car’s doorknob. “You heard me. Once the piece you got today is edited, I did promise Detective Benteen that we’d let him have the final okay. When he does okay it, then I’ll tell him. Does that meet with your approval?” she asked.

      She realized that she was being short-tempered with Jerry because she knew he was right. But at the same time, she didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to revisit the pain that went with all that.

      “You don’t need my approval, Ellie.”

      “No,” she told him pointedly, agreeing. “I don’t.