No Sanctuary. Helen R. Myers

guy had cop written all over him and she wished they were standing farther back from the road than they were.

      “I guess it’s a bit much to hope you believe me?” he continued.

      She didn’t see a reason to respond to the obvious.

      “Guess not. So much for my declining skill at small talk.”

      “You think that’ll make it easier to haul me in?”

      His troubled frown became one of confusion and made the ridge along his straight eyebrows resemble a mountain ledge. “Why would I do that?”

      “To put me back where you think I belong.”

      “Then you don’t know what I think.”

      “Please.” Disgusted, Bay looked away. “Stop wasting my time. If your plan is to bug me day in and day out until I leave your precious town, forget it. If it’s to make me feel guilty because a good woman believed in me and helped me, is continuing to help me,” she added extending her arms to encompass her surroundings, “you can give it your best shot. But understand this, Madeleine Ridgeway will hear about it and she has connections.”

      “I’m acutely aware of your friend’s connections.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean? Never mind. I don’t care. Your bitterness about having a case getting turned around is your problem. You should have done a better job with the investigation to begin with.”

      “You’re right there. Look, I realize you’ve had plenty of time to add to your hatred of me, but if it would give you any—”

      “It won’t.”

      “Bay…”

      “No!” Rising anger emboldened her. “You have nothing to say that I want to hear. In fact, I was hoping never to have to see you again. Since my lucky streak seems to be short-lived, I think I should at least have a right to ask you to stay away from me.”

      “I’m not going to be able to do that.”

      The quiet words shook her more than an angry outburst would have. “That sounds like a threat.”

      “I could try to explain if you eased up on the defensiveness a bit.”

      “There’s nothing to explain. I’m out. It’s over.”

      “I don’t think so…and if you’re half the woman I think you are, you don’t believe it, either.”

      The truth struck so close she barely refrained from stepping backward. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Uh-huh. And the moment you heard your partner described as a weak gambling addict who risked your friendship and trust, not to mention his relationship with the woman he was about to marry, you didn’t want to spit in the eye of the person reciting that crap to you?”

      So he did know. And he was telling her that he didn’t believe the story Catfish Tarpley had to tell any more than she did. It grated that they should agree about anything, but she wasn’t going to let him know what she thought until she did some digging herself.

      Instead, she played it cool and drawled, “Haven’t visited many lifers, have you? If you did, you’d know we’d do just about anything to taste freedom again.”

      “Sorry, kiddo, you’re not going to convince me that you’ve grown that hard.”

      “Don’t call me that.”

      “It’s the way I saw you that first night—a scared, little kid—and how I still see you.”

      Bay stared at the ground between them and tried not to wonder at the sadness in his voice. He couldn’t care, not then or now. This was a ploy of some kind. She simply wasn’t smart enough to figure out what and why.

      “Why can’t you just go away?” she whispered in a voice that sounded too much like the child he’d described.

      “Because I owe you.”

      He had that much right.

      “Do you know I didn’t hear about the confession until it made front page in the papers? A little odd, don’t you think? The case detective being left out of the loop?”

      She shrugged. It wasn’t her problem if his fellow cops didn’t want to talk to him and that, as a result, he’d been professionally embarrassed.

      “Tyler’s not a three-cop town anymore,” Jack Burke continued. “We don’t know everything the others are doing, but for a convicted murderer who once garnered national press to have her conviction reversed without the detective on record being informed, let alone assist in the new investigation, is unusual, let me tell you.”

      “Maybe your superiors were trying to avoid any more PR damage than was already done.”

      “A valid point. So is the unwritten rule that people don’t do favors for strangers.”

      “You think my release was a favor?” She dropped her hands to her sides, but her fingers curled into fists.

      “Do you know your hero, Catfish Tarpley?”

      “No, so you see he wasn’t out to help me, he was resolving another murder in order to help himself. What validated his testimony was that it was confirmed by one of your own. Someone in Vice.” Seeing a look of distaste flash across his weary features, she drove her own verbal knife deeper adding, “Do you know him?”

      “I know of him. Generally, I stay away from those guys and they choose their own friends, too.”

      “Sounds like a chicken way of saying you don’t think much of Detective Martel.”

      “It’s the diplomatic way of not drawing conclusions before I have all of the facts. Who came to the prison to give you your good news?”

      “My…an attorney hired by a friend.”

      “Madeleine Ridgeway. She has been quite the friend to you,” he added surveying the property.

      Bay pointed her keys at him. “Don’t. Don’t you dare condescend to me again. You and your facts. You never took the time to learn them before, why should I believe anything’s changed?”

      “Have you forgotten I challenged the DA’s line of questioning during your trial? You don’t remember how I said something didn’t feel right about your case?”

      “I remember he made chopped meat out of you,” she sneered.

      Jack Burke dropped his chin to his chest. “I didn’t have the experience to help you. And just prior to that they’d dumped a helluva caseload on me to where—” he swore under his breath “—excuses. Christ, listen to me.” He met her gaze, his own full of misery. “All I can say is that I’m sorry.”

      Bay drew herself to her full five foot four. “Feel better now? Good. Now get lost.”

      His left hand moved in an almost unconscious gesture of supplication. “I’m serious about what I said. What I’d like—”

      “What I’d like is to move on to the rest of my life.”

      “Doing what? Driving the streets Glenn English drove, reliving over and over the first instant you saw he’d been turned into a human shish kebab?”

      “You son of a bitch.”

      “Someone has to snap you out of this daydream where you’ve turned into Cinderella and all’s well with the world.”

      “If you believe that’s what I’m doing, I’d be surprised to hear you’ve resolved any cases in your career, Detective.”

      Jack’s eyes narrowed. “If what you’re suggesting is true, all the more reason for us to talk. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, Bay. You’re not up to it. You’re a ghost of your old self and that wasn’t much