The Sheriff. Angi Morgan

any windows in the exam room, and he needed to keep an eye on her. Victim or perpetrator. He didn’t know if that was an unsuccessful rescue attempt or an averted abduction.

      Whichever, something didn’t sit right and he wanted to know what she was doing. She was the prime suspect or witness in a man’s death.

      “I’ve got things under control, Dad. I don’t need backup at the hospital. I’ll be gone before anyone can get here. We’re just waiting on a prescription. There’s nothing you can do. I know you’re already at the office. Just stay there and handle that end of things. When exactly did Peach call you?”

      “Now, son, it’s no reflection on your abilities that she called. We’ve been working together for a couple of decades.”

      When were any of his instructions going to be followed?

      He’d been at the hospital almost three hours waiting on Andrea to be treated and discharged before Suit Man—it was as good a description as any—had shown up. And to get the okay for her to leave was taking a lot longer than he’d anticipated. The murderers seemed to be a lot more organized than the hospital staff, who couldn’t get them out the door.

      “Who am I kidding? Peach called the real sheriff as soon as I reported the dead body. Right?” A guy who went missing by the time the ambulance showed up twenty minutes later.

      “You are the sheriff now and never mind how long I’ve been here,” his father said, sounding wide-awake and probably on his third cup of coffee. He’d dodged answering like he usually did. “The picture you sent popped a red flag. I’m waiting on a call from the DEA and DHS.”

      “You think this guy was working undercover?” His charge was lying on an ER bed, ice bag on her ear.

      “Could be, Pete. They’re waking up some top-dog bureaucrat to get instructions. I don’t want the call to drop on my way out to the Viewing Area. But I want to take a look at that car before it disappears, too.”

      “So you believe our Sleeping Beauty’s story about the flashing lights?” His dad would take over the crime scene while Pete babysat the witness. This night just kept getting better and better.

      “Well, something’s not right. Dead bodies don’t just walk away. The paramedics are sure there was no sign of animal involvement?” his dad asked.

      “They actually accused me of yanking their chain when they returned to the hospital.” A quick look into the room confirmed Andrea was still asleep, secure and safe.

      “Then whoever was in the chopper chasing our witness didn’t want the body found.”

      “Did Peach get anyone at the observatory to verify her ID?”

      “Yeah, the director confirmed everything. She’s lucky you got there as soon as you did or she’d be dead twice over now. Don’t let her out of your sight until we get this thing figured out.”

      “I hadn’t planned to. I know my job, Dad.” He wasn’t normally a pacer, but he couldn’t lean against the wall much longer. He looked at the nurses’ station, where there was still no sign of activity.

      “You’ll make a fine replacement. I’m looking forward to sleeping in,” his dad said.

      “That’ll never happen. You’ll just be at the café for breakfast earlier.” He left the replacement statement hanging. He couldn’t get into a conversation they’d been avoiding for almost six weeks while in the middle of what was becoming a major mess. “Listen, you know you’re supposed to take it easy. I’ll stop by the crash site on my way back.”

      “I’m not an invalid.”

      “You should be after a quadruple bypass.”

      Andrea yanked the door open.

      “He’s dead?” She was obviously panicked, more upset than she’d been earlier after the Suit had backhanded her jaw. “The man who stumbled out of the desert is dead? Did he die in the crash? Did I kill him?”

      “Gotta run, Dad. Get a deputy there to pick you up. You shouldn’t be driving.” He slid the cell into his pocket and faced her. “I’m sorry you had to hear like that. How he died wasn’t clear when I viewed the body, so I don’t have the answer to your question.”

      “I need another shirt. Now.”

      He witnessed her realization she still wore the man’s blood. Her chest began rising and falling more rapidly, and she was about to completely lose it. Good or bad? He didn’t know. They didn’t get too many cases like this bizarre situation in Jeff Davis County.

      One second he was sticking his head out the door calling for clean scrubs and the next he saw Andrea tug the back of her shirt over her head.

      “What are you doing?”

      She threw the shirt across the room. “I think that’s self-explanatory. What? You’ve never seen a woman in a bra before?”

      “Here.” He shifted the pillow from the bed to block the view of her breasts.

      “I’m not claiming harassment, if you’re worried—”

      “This is a small town and people will talk no matter what you claim.”

      “Someone’s trying to kill me. I have no idea why. And you’re worried about seeing me in my bra.” She stared at him, hugging the pillow to her stomach.

      She wanted a logical explanation. There wasn’t one. “They’re covering their bases.”

      “But I don’t know anything,” she whispered.

      “They don’t know that.”

      The door swung open, and Ginny held a pair of pink scrubs. She handed them to him without a word and turned to leave.

      “Wait.” He stopped the nurse after the disapproving look she shot his way. “I’ll leave and you help Miss Allen get cleaned up and changed. Bag all her clothes, will ya?”

      “Sure, Pete.” Ginny smiled, raising an eyebrow to match the questions in her voice.

      He stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him, leaning against the wall and refusing to beat his head against the drywall. He was attracted to Andrea Allen in a major way and needed to set it aside until this mess was cleared up.

      It didn’t matter that her belly had been faintly stained with blood. He’d barely been able to think like a sheriff while admiring her other...assets. His red-hot American boy shouted at him to take notice.

      The woman he’d been watching closely was completely in shape, sleek muscles in spite of being a scholar. That is, they still needed to verify her identity. They hadn’t found any ID at the scene. Nothing on the viewing platform the way she claimed. And if he hadn’t seen the dead man himself, they’d be questioning her story about that, too.

      Maybe that’s what she’d intended? Get him distracted so she could slip out of the hospital. Andrea Allen might just be a legitimate name she acquired so she could pretend to be someone from the university.

      She was either the most carefree, speak-her-mind woman he’d ever met or the best con artist he’d ever witnessed. Being a looker helped. Spirited. Easily embarrassed on one hand and then contradicting it by stripping her shirt off without blinking an eye. Dark brown hair, skin that hadn’t seen sun in a while and at least five necklaces, varying in length, drawing his stare to a pair of perfectly shaped breasts.

      Ginny closed the door behind her. “She sure is upset that mystery guy is dead. You better watch her, Pete. No tellin’ what you’ve stumbled across now. Guess that’s the breaks when you’re the sheriff.” She dragged a finger across his nameplate. “Give me a call the next time you’re in Alpine.”

      That ship had sailed a long time ago. “Thanks. Got an estimate on that prescription?”

      “I’ll go check for you.”

      He