Authors: Pat Warren
Andy waited until the waiter brought their wine and went through his little tasting ritual before he raised his glass to Terry.
“To you, lady. Welcome back.”
“And to you for your invaluable help. Thanks, Andy.” She clinked her glass to his and took a sip.
Andy crossed his arms and leaned forward. “Is it true, that they wanted you to come back to the
Gazette
, but you turned them down?”
“How’d you know that?”
“Hey, lady. I’m a cop. I’ve got spies everywhere.” He smiled at her, wondering if she’d ever again be the spirited woman she’d
once been.
Terry turned to gaze out the window at a spectacular sunset dripping gold and red on the distant mountains. Even that lovely
sight didn’t cheer her. “Well, you heard right.” She shrugged as she brought her attention back to Andy. “I seem to have lost
my enthusiasm somewhere along the way.”
He reached over, placing his big hand over hers. “Don’t rush it, Terry. You’ve been through a lot.” He’d attended a couple
of days of the trial and been shocked at all she’d weathered. That bedlam in the kitchen alone would be enough to traumatize
someone, to cause nightmares for some time, to say nothing of watching the father she’d placed on a high pedestal take such
a plunge, watch him die. And John Ryan had taken several with him. Internal affairs was still investigating the Central precinct.
She blinked, still struggling with tears that threatened to fall at the slightest kindness. “So they tell me.”
“Your surgery, at least, was a success. You’re as lovely as ever. Maybe more.” The maturity that her experiences had carved
in her face made the difference.
“Thanks.” She needed to switch the focus. She hated talking about herself and her problems. “How are things going with you?
Do you enjoy being a detective?”
He leaned back as the waiter placed their salads in front of them, then picked up his fork before answering. “I sure do. It
beats car patrols or the bicycling I did at first. Great for the legs, bad for the disposition.”
She knew that the beat cops such as her father had been
in the early days had been replaced in Scottsdale and Phoenix by officers on bicycles roaming certain neighborhoods, and car
patrols in others. The rougher sections had two to a squad car. “Are you working on anything interesting right now, anything
you can tell me, that is?”
Always pleased to talk about his work, Andy told her about a case that they’d just wrapped, able to speak freely about something
that was over, the convictions in. He finished his salad and saw that Terry had scarcely touched hers before the waiter showed
up to ask if they were finished.
Maybe it was time to cut to the chase, Andy decided. “How’s Luke Tanner doing?” he asked, watching Terry.
“I wouldn’t know.” She took a sip of wine.
Again, Andy leaned forward. “Look, Terry, I know this is none of my business, but I got to know both Bob Jones and Luke fairly
well when they were putting this case together. I got permission to sit in on a few sessions with the prosecutors, too. Luke’s
quite a guy and a hell of a lawman. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you and he more than just friends?”
“
Were
more than friends. Past tense.” Carefully, she set down her glass.
“I hope you realize I’m only bringing this up because of our friendship. Good friends are allowed to meddle, you know.”
She managed a smile. “Are they?” The waiter brought their dinners. Terry wondered if she’d be able to swallow.
“You had a quarrel?” Andy persisted after the waiter left.
“Not exactly.” She picked up her fork and poked at her steaming potato half, which was huge and loaded with all sorts of goodies.
“All cops are difficult to live with, difficult to form a relationship with.” Cutting into his steak, he waited for her response.
When there was none, he went on. “All right, I’m going to just jump in here. Do you love him?”
The food on her plate began to blur. She cleared her throat. “Andy, I don’t think I can talk about this.”
“I don’t mean to upset you, but I
know
you, Terry. Can I just tell you what I think?”
She reached for a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t suppose I’ll be able to stop you, meddling friend
that you are.”
“I’ve always been a persistent devil.” Andy chewed a bite of steak, trying to come up with the right words. “Sometimes, when
people go through a rough time, where they’ve had to call on reserves of strength just to survive, it almost seems as if they
were unafraid to die. They’re not, of course, but it seems that way. Lawmen are like that. Every day, facing possible death,
but surviving.”
Terry tasted her potato. “What’s your point?”
“That sometimes those very people are afraid to live.” He saw her wrinkle her brow in confusion. “They’re afraid of what
might
happen down the road—in their lives, in their relationships, constantly worrying about the future. They miss out on today
because they’re too busy worrying about tomorrow and agonizing over mistakes they made yesterday.”
Perhaps Luke was a little like that. “You think Luke walked away from me before I could reject him? I thought of that, too,
and even told him that’s how he felt.”
“I’ll bet he didn’t agree with you. I know a lot of cops who’re afraid to commit in their personal lives.” He made a derisive
sound. “Hell, I’m one of them.” He let that sink in, let her eat while she thought that over. After a moment, he began again.
“Maybe you’re like that, too.”
She raised questioning eyes to his. “How do you mean?”
Andy’d had a talk with Bob Jones about several things after the trial, and Luke and Terry’s names had come up. All the chief
had said was that both of them were too damn stubborn to admit they cared, even though it was obvious to everyone who knew
them that they did. “It’s a hell of a risk,
going to someone, sticking your neck out, saying those three little words before we’ve heard them from the other person. Risking
embarrassment. Risking getting hurt. Risking finding out if they care as much as we do.”
Thoughtfully, Terry picked at her dinner.
“Make any sense to you?” Andy finally asked.
She set down her fork and took another sip of wine. “I guess it does make a crazy kind of sense.” She looked into his serious
brown eyes. “Are you through playing Ann Landers or Geraldo or whatever this is?”
He grinned. “Yeah. You can hit me now or later.”
Terry shook her head. “I don’t want to hit you. I should probably thank you. Again. It takes a real friend to climb out on
a limb and tell you a difficult truth.”
“I was hoping you’d see it that way. I only want you to be happy, to see you smiling again.”
She rewarded him with a smile. “I want that, too. I’ll think over what you said.”
“Terrific. Now, would you please eat? Most men like their women with a little meat on their bones.”
“Chauvinist.” But she picked up her fork.
She had her excuse all rehearsed. She was returning his St. George’s medal to him. If he was cool or rude, she’d hand it to
him and leave. If he was receptive… well, she’d improvise.
Driving her brand-new Mazda RX7 north on I-17 heading for Sedona, Terry ran through half a dozen scenarios in her mind. But
as she neared the turnoff to Luke’s place, according to the directions she’d taken down after calling Bob Jones, her heart
wouldn’t stop pounding.
It was a lovely April day, cold but sunny. She turned onto the road shaded by trees on both sides. It was hardly more than
a dirt path, which didn’t surprise her. Luke would choose a place that would make it difficult for people to find him. Bob,
when she’d phoned him, had told her that, to the
best of his knowledge, he was the only visitor Luke ever had. Luke Tanner wore the tag
loner
like a badge of honor.
Of course, Bob had seen through the weak reason she’d given for her visit. It was obvious that she could have mailed back
Luke’s medal. In his awkward, halting way, Bob had told her he was glad she was taking the initiative, that any fool could
tell that Luke cared about her. Perhaps, but would he admit it? The man was as stubborn as a mule and could be just as cantankerous.
Slowly, Terry followed the curving path, mindful of the potholes and jutting rocks on her low-slung car. After several more
sleepless nights, she’d decided that Andy had been right. She’d faced death a couple of times, and come out a winner. But
was she strong enough to face life?
She’d chided Luke for that very thing. Yet she was afraid of risking her heart, her feelings, too. Everyone was, she supposed.
But, no pain, no gain, as the saying went. If he sent her packing, she would at least know she’d tried.
The cabin came into view as a big yellow Labrador came bounding toward her, barking. But the bark seemed more a welcoming
greeting than one meant as a warning. He had to be Yuma, the dog Luke had mentioned picking up on his travels. Terry stopped
the car behind a white pickup truck and turned off the engine.
As she opened her door, the Lab cocked his head at her, then came over to sniff at her shoes as she stepped out. “You’re a
big guy, aren’t you?” She bent to smooth the big head, but he angled back and began licking her hand.
“Hell of a watchdog I’ve got there, don’t you think?” Luke asked, pulling off his work gloves as he walked toward her. “I
had a package delivered last week and he damn near slobbered all over the mailman.”
“He must have picked up his friendly manner from his owner,” she said, straightening and squinting in the sunshine that haloed
his dark head.
“His first owner, maybe.”
Her heart skidded around in her chest as she looked him over. His boots were scuffed, his jeans well washed, the denim jacket
worn over a tight black T-shirt was faded. He was growing another beard as she’d somehow known he would, and his hair was
longer since the trial over a month ago. She liked him better this way. Truth be known, she liked him either way.
A hammer dangled from his one hand. She wondered if his .38 was tucked into his waistband. “I guess I’m interrupting you.”
Luke pointed with the hammer toward the open barn door. “I was in there reinforcing the hayloft.” He narrowed his eyes, wondering
just why she’d come. He wanted her to leave so his nerves could settle. He wanted her to stay till the end of time.
He wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’ve never seen a hayloft. May I?”
“Sure, why not?” He walked around the Mazda. “Nice wheels.”
“Insurance company bought it. I rather like it myself. Goes a lot faster than my VW did.” Small talk when all she wanted to
do was touch him, hold him, kiss him.
Luke entered the dim barn as Yuma ran ahead, following Terry inside, inhaling her special scent, the one he’d tried to forget.
She had on leather boots, black jeans that skimmed her slender legs, and a boldly striped silk jacket over a white T-shirt.
She had no business looking so damn good, making him sweat.
What now? he asked himself. She was here, where he’d been wanting her to be, where he’d been dreading she’d show up. But why
had she come?
Terry wandered over to examine the four horse stalls, obviously recently reconstructed. “You do nice work. Are you planning
on getting more horses?” He’d only mentioned the one stallion when he’d told her about his ranch.
Luke placed a hand on the gate of the first stall, as if testing
for imperfections he’d overlooked. “I thought I might get a couple more.”
She turned, looking up at him. “So Domino won’t be lonely?”
His eyes narrowed. Is that what she thought, that he was like his stallion, lonely and pining away? “Stallions don’t get lonely.
They just need a mare for breeding.”
Well, that was telling her. Terry moved off, glancing up at the hayloft, wishing she’d never come. It had been a mistake.
Luke was letting her know he didn’t need her any more than Domino needed company.
He trailed after her as she wandered over to gaze out the window tucked under the eaves. “What brings you up this way?”
“Trying out my new car,” she improvised.
“Is that so?” He came up behind her, the urge to bury his face in her hair making his palms damp. Cursing silently at how
quickly she could get to him, he jammed his hands in his pockets.
“It’s a nice day for a drive, don’t you think?” Terry looked out at his cabin, out past the trees, and still couldn’t see
the road from this isolated location. That’s what Luke needed—isolation, privacy, seclusion. No people around to make him
think, to make him feel. Just a dog and some horses, demanding nothing from him but food and shelter. She’d thought she could
join that list, but she’d been wrong. “How many acres do you own?”
“Ten.” Enough with the games. “Why’d you really come, Terry?”
She was ready for him. She removed the envelope from her pocket and turned. But she hadn’t realized quite how close he was.
Their eyes locked and she could feel her heart slip into her throat. Why was it that he could weaken her so quickly while
he remained unaffected by her arrival? She swallowed with difficulty as she held out her hand. “To return this.”
He frowned at the envelope. “What is it?”
“Your medal, the one you gave me to keep me safe. I want to thank you. It worked. But you’re going to need it again when you
go out on your next case, so I brought it back.”
Did she want nothing of his around to remind her of him? Or was returning the only thing he’d ever given her just an excuse
to come visit him? Luke wished to hell he knew. He took it from her, stuffed it in his jacket pocket. “Thanks. You could have
mailed it.”
She dropped her gaze to the hay on the floor so he wouldn’t read the disappointment in her eyes. “I could have. I guess I
wanted to see how you were doing. And you did invite me to drop by.”
“So I did.” If he didn’t turn from her, he’d be reaching for her. He swung around, ostensibly to adjust a harness hanging
on a wall hook. “As you can see, I’m doing just fine.”
A dismissal. There was no mistaking his tone. She’d stuck her neck out and he’d chopped it off, neatly but surely. “I’m glad,
Luke. I guess I’ll be going then.”