Healing the Lawman's Heart. Ruth Logan Herne

quick dismissal made him want to read her the riot act about safety and good choices, similar to the one he dished out to the junior high health class a few days ago.

      “What’s with the rental car, Jules?” Zach moved toward the door, aiming his gun-mounted flashlight ahead so they could see their way out.

      “My SUV got rear-ended by a drug salesman in a hurry to get home before the weather turned foul. It’s going to be in the shop for a week at least.”

      “Were you in it?” Concern laced Zach’s question as Julia turned the key, then tested the door to make sure it locked.

      “Nope, it was parked, but he did a number on it.”

      “You know this sedan drives different on snow and ice,” Zach reminded her as they stepped outside. “Don’t expect it to respond the same way as your SUV.”

      “I won’t.” She turned to face them while the brisk wind whipped tiny snowflakes through her upswept hair. “I’m heading straight home, and I’ll go slow, although now that it’s snowing, I’m missing my Forester big-time.”

      “Just be careful. And who are you getting to do the work here?” Zach asked, and when she answered his question with a pert smile, he scowled. “I was afraid of that. You do know I have a wife and toddler at home, right?”

      “Piper offered to help, actually, while Lucia watches Jack. She loves projects like this.”

      “And what exactly is this project?” Tanner asked as he and Zach made sure her car started all right. “A clinic, you said?”

      Her happy answer made him want to turn tail and run, hard and fast.

      And not look back.

      “A pregnancy center for the poor. We’ll service folks who’ve slipped through the cracks or who’ve fallen on hard times, or just don’t have the means to get things done. We hope to open within a month as long as we can get the setup work done. And while this doesn’t look pretty now—” she jutted her chin toward the scruffy strip mall “—we can tackle the outside in the spring. For right now, clean and safe prenatal care is the plan.”

      Something rose high in Tanner’s throat. His heart, maybe?

      He’d made it a point to stay away from anything to do with pregnancy and women these past three years. He avoided hospital detail as if it were the plague, he never sat near people with kids—or those expecting babies—anywhere. Ever.

      He didn’t need reminders of what he’d lost. It was there, every day, in the empty bed he used to share with a beautiful woman. His life, his love, his partner in all things. The extra bedrooms in the sprawling ranch home he’d finally sold over two years ago, his attempt to physically erase brick-and-mortar memories.

      Julia gave him an odd look, as if wondering what he was thinking, but then she waved, turned on the engine and headed toward the parking lot exit.

      Zach moved to his car. “Hey. It’s cold and snowing. Why are you standing there? Let’s go grab food at The Pelican’s Nest and we can monitor calls from there.”

      Tanner didn’t want food. He didn’t want to pretend this was okay.

      A pregnancy center, stuck in a boarded-up strip mall, right in the middle of his patrol zone.

      He waved Zach off as he climbed into his cruiser. “Not hungry, but thanks. I’ll go back to my watch spot near the entrance ramp. That way I’m close if anything goes down at this end of the lake.”

      Zach gave him a thumbs-up and shut his car door.

      Tanner climbed in more slowly.

      An hour ago he’d been sitting peacefully, watching conditions worsen, hoping for a quiet night. Now?

      He couldn’t get Ashley and baby Solomon out of his mind. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d lost his wife and his premature baby boy, tiny and sweet, born too soon.

      His heart ached.

      He thought he was managing fairly well. Most days he did all right, but the three-year anniversaries were looming.

      He moved his cruiser back into position and stared at the low-slung buildings across the two-lane road.

      You’ll be fine, his conscience assured him. You’ve done okay, it’s time to move on.

      Tanner hated those words. Lame reassurances from people who hadn’t suffered his kind of loss made him want to punch something. He kept a gym membership for that very reason.

      Sadness welled within him, but the sorrow had an angry side. A side that railed at God, at medicine, at the timing that changed his life while he’d sat powerless to help.

      Ashley gone. Their baby gone. Life alone.

      A call on the radio made him pull himself together. A car had gone off the road, just north of the Kirkwood Lake exit. He pulled out of his parking spot, cruised across the lake-spanning highway and headed for the snow-clogged ramp.

      Twin headlights stared off to the east, illuminating chunks of ice along the nearby shore.

      The car had spun off the bottom of the ramp. Tanner eased around the corner and idled the cruiser, lights flashing. Pulling his hat and gloves on, he hurried across the quickly deepening snow, his flashlight aimed ahead.

      The bright beam outlined a silver Chevy that looked familiar. And inside, watching him, was Zach Harrison’s sister, Julia.

      He tried to wrench her door open. Nothing happened.

      She stared up at him, her gaze trusting.

      “Can you open the window, Julia?” He shouted the words over the rush of wind.

      She shook her head.

      He tried to circle the car, but the passenger side was tipped down into the snow, lodged against the embankment. No access there.

      He came around front again and called Zach’s phone. Julia’s brother answered right away. “Julia’s had an accident, she’s trapped, she’s not in danger, doesn’t appear to be badly hurt, but I need her cell phone number. I can’t talk to her through the window, the storm’s too loud. And then get over here, we’re at Exit 8, northbound on Lower Lake Road.”

      Zach rattled off the number. Tanner heard him hit the siren before he disconnected, and the sound of an approaching ambulance or rescue vehicle told Tanner help was on the way.

      He dialed her number and waggled his cell phone for her to see.

      She looked startled when her phone rang, groped for it, then shook her head, dismayed.

       She can’t find the phone.

      He tried again, hoping the ring tone would help her locate the cell. This time she zeroed in on the noise, stretched, and when she sat back up, the look of triumph on her face said she had the phone.

       Yes.

      He dialed again and she answered quickly. “I’m stuck.”

      The nonstressed tone of her voice said he wasn’t dealing with a typical accident victim, and the look she sent his way, an almost comical look of pleading, said she’d wait for him to rescue her without hysterics.

      He liked that.

      “Make sure your locks are disengaged from inside.”

      “I did that. Everything’s unlocked. Or should be.”

      “Try again. Electrical systems can get whacked in an accident.”

      He saw her hit the button to disengage the locks. She frowned at the door and hit the button again. “It’s not responding.”

      She glared at the console, firmed her chin and stabbed the unlock button with vengeance.

       Click.