A Secret In Conard County. Rachel Lee

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.

      Then he checked her glove box, but all it contained were the owner’s manual and her registration. Sure that everything was safe, he stood by, waiting for the truck.

      He wondered if she’d be gone by tomorrow or if he’d get a chance to learn her story. Whatever it was, it was bad.

      Thirty minutes later he was following the tow truck toward town. In all that time, Erin Sanders hadn’t stirred. His radio crackled, he’d reported what he was doing, and as he drove he passed another deputy headed out to take over his section of the state highway.

      Then he heard a cell phone ring. He half expected Erin to sleep right through it, but maybe some things ran deeper than sleep for a law enforcement officer. She popped her eyes open and felt around in her pocket, pulling out her cell. She lifted it to the side of her face and said, “Sanders.”

      He kept his gaze fixed on the truck and her car just ahead. He’d told them to put her car at the garage. Larry would keep it in his lot until she wanted it back.

      “Fran, I’m fine,” he heard Erin say. “I was dozing beside the road and a deputy picked me up. Of course he checked me out when he found out I was armed.”

      A long silence.

      “I don’t know exactly where I am. Somewhere in Wyoming. We’re headed to some town where I can find a bed.”

      “Conard City,” Lance interjected helpfully.

      “Conard City,” Erin repeated with a slight nod to him. “And if you’re worried about it, you can check him out. Deputy Conroe.”

      “Lance Conroe, Conard County Sheriff’s Office.”

      “Did you catch that, Fran? Okay. I’m fine, just tired.”

      Another long silence, then Erin spoke impatiently. “Why would I want to do that? I’ve got the whole kit and caboodle, all the wounds and scars, an ex who pesters me, a killer who got away, a body taking forever to heal and nightmares that won’t quit. What more do I need? Another man? No, I will not call Tom, and I won’t be returning his calls. I need this break.”

      Whoa, thought Lance, that was an entire mess in one succinct passage. He felt a bit of sympathy for her as he heard her wind up the call and put her phone away.

      “Sorry,” she said. “You didn’t need to hear that.”

      “Too much information?” he asked lightly. “It’s okay.”

      “No, it’s not okay. I sounded whiny.”

      “You sounded fed up. Big difference.”

      She stirred at last, turning slowly in her seat, her cautious movements betraying her. Something still hurt, something was still healing and moving wasn’t her favorite activity. At once his mind slipped into another gear. He’d planned to leave her at the La-Z-Rest Motel, which for all it was decrepit was at least clean, but right across the state highway was a truck stop. No silence, even at night.

      “You’re a nice man, Deputy,” she said.

      “Lance. Not doing anything special.”

      “I beg to differ.” She fell silent for a few seconds. “I saw signs for a big resort on my way here. Is it open?”

      “Not yet.” Biggest joke around. Finally they were pulling everything together for the long-promised resort and it all had come to a huge halt last spring because of a landslide. It was as if the Fates conspired against the town. Not that everyone wanted the place, but it would have offered some jobs and put a little extra cash in the local economy. “All we have to offer these days is a fleabag motel across the highway from a truck stop.”

      “It’ll do. I’ve slept all kinds of places.”

      He imagined she had. He wished he could put her someplace better, but the few rooming houses rented by the week or month, not by the day. And asking a family to take her in would probably be miserable for her and everyone else. He thought briefly of his aunt but knew he couldn’t make the offer without checking with Maria first. So the motel it was. She’d probably be there only one night anyway.

      “You need to eat?” he asked.

      “Why do you ask?”

      “Because I can take you to a diner in town before I leave you at the motel. Considering you don’t seem to be moving too well, that might be better than trying to cross the highway to the truck stop.”

      Silence. For some reason he expected her to get vocally annoyed by his interference. It really was none of his business. Yet the thought of dropping her off like that seemed hardly better than having left her in her car by the roadside.

      “Knight-errant?” she asked.

      “Who, me?” That surprised a laugh out of him. “Just a cop trying to help a fellow cop. The way you’re moving, I’m not sure they should have let you out of the hospital.”

      “Apparently you don’t have much experience with insurance. Anyway, I wouldn’t have let them keep me.”

      He could well believe that. “Listen,” he said presently. “The speed limit by the motel is supposed to be thirty. Well, we get all types coming along the state highway, and some don’t read too well. The thought of you trying to cross that piece of road when some knucklehead comes barreling along at sixty...”

      “Got you,” she answered. “Thanks. The diner sounds good.”

      He reached for his radio, and called Larry who was driving just ahead of him. “Larry, change of plans. Take the lady’s car to the La-Z-Rest. Thanks.”

      The woman beside him spoke. “That’s the name of the motel?”

      “Yup.”

      “Oh, God,” she said. It was all he could do not to laugh again. Instead he just said, “Yup,” once more.

      Then she utterly astonished him by laughing quietly herself. “The La-Z-Rest,” she said. “I can hardly wait.”

      * * *

      She really had arrived at the ends of the earth, Erin thought as she eased into a booth at the nearly empty diner. Lance Conroe took a minute to let the dispatcher know where he was, then followed her inside.

      Just as he settled across from her, a Gorgon of a woman slapped menus down in front of them. “Coffee or the fancy stuff?” she asked.

      “Coffee,” Lance replied, then looked at Erin. “Latte if you want it.”

      “I’d love a latte.” She tried smiling at the Gorgon, who apparently went by the name of Maude, but after a flickering look, the woman dismissed her and walked away.

      “Nice,”