The Sheriff (5 page)

Was he just making conversation? Being polite? Or pumping her for information? Did it really matter? “I don’t think I should say anything. You’re treating me like a suspect.”

“Do you feel like a suspect? I thought I was treating you like someone who needed a lift home. I do that. It’s part of my job.”

“I don’t know why I’m being so paranoid.”

“Maybe it has something to do with a dying man falling into your arms in the middle of nowhere or being chased by unknown assailants?” He scratched between his eyebrows for a brief second. He’d done that several times as he’d dipped his chin. “Or maybe it was the guy posing as Homeland Security who attacked you.”

“Yeah.” She laughed for a second, surprising herself. “That might have something to do with it.”

“Pretty good badge, too. Had me fooled, even down to his shoes. Most of ’em forget the shoes.”

She covered her eyes, sliding her hand over her mouth.
Small talk, remember the small talk consequences.
She did not want to reveal who her father was or who he worked for. His job title was a red flag, warning off guys too frightened to stand near him. Or others would fall into hero worship when the former astronaut showed up. Either of her father’s personas would make her feel like the background, and she’d lose interest in a potential relationship.

“You can rest if you want. Use the blanket I took from the trunk for a pillow. I promise it’s clean.”

Rolling the dark cotton into a cylinder, her brain jump-started as the road veered directly west again. They were getting close to the Viewing Area. She could see warning lights down the road, still miles away, but bright for a clear night on a flat piece of earth. Not anything like what she’d experienced earlier.

“I probably should just keep my mouth shut, but I don’t want to forget this.” She pointed at the hills to the south. “The lights I saw first appeared back that direction. There was something strange about them.”

“People see lights out here all the time.”

“Don’t dismiss me like a tourist.”

“Pardon me, ma’am. I forgot for a minute you were an astrologer.”

“Astro
n
omer, but you already knew that. Trying to insult me?” From him, it didn’t come across as an insult. “Can we stop to get my things, Pete? I think I’m clearheaded enough to have a discussion with your colleagues about what happened. And I’ll never get to sleep if I don’t have my music.”

He tugged at the front of his shirt, shifting behind the wheel. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

So when Pete didn’t want her to know something or he was holding back, he kept a straight face and couldn’t smile. Interesting. He was definitely holding back. She’d seen a lot of guys in uniform in her lifetime and they all stood a little straighter, forcing the confidence to come through as the truth.

“I don’t really want to see Sharon’s car or have that memory with me forever. But isn’t it better than wondering about it for the rest of my life? Which is worse?”

“I can’t answer that, Miss Allen.” He pulled to the shoulder of the road and put the car in Park. “What I can tell you is that nothing was there except the car.”

“You aren’t taking me back to the observatory. Are you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“So you think I murdered that man and wrecked my friend’s car and made up a story about weird chopper lights to cover everything up? He was shot. Did you find a gun? And really, I came into the desert without anything? No cell, no purse, no shovel, no identification whatsoever to get rid of a dead man?” She’d started talking and couldn’t stop. “Granted, if I were getting rid of a dead man, I probably wouldn’t carry my ID. But alone? Get real. And if you knew me at all, no snacks and no water? Well, that just isn’t going to happen.”

“Wow.” He draped his arm over the steering wheel, turning more of his body toward her and smiling once again. “That’s impressive.”

“I have a vivid imagination and think really fast. My dad rubbed off on me. I don’t understand how you can assume that I’m guilty without any proof. There isn’t any proof. Right? I mean, I’m not being framed, am I? Lots of people knew where I’d be tonight.”

“Just hold on a minute.” He straightened the arm closer to her, reaching out to pat her shoulder. “If you can take a breath and slow down to my speed, I can explain what’s going on. To a certain degree.”

She faced forward and shoved her fingers under her legs. Watching his sincerity was clouding her ability to analyze the situation correctly. She’d allowed him to distract her far too long and should have called her parents immediately. She knew
that
number by heart. “Okay, I’m breathing.”

“You’ve been in protective custody since I got a phone call from the paramedics that there wasn’t a body in the vehicle. No one’s arresting you.”

“But you saw him? I’m not...” She’d been about to say
crazy
.

He nodded. “I have pictures of a man at the scene matching the description you gave me earlier. Neither of us imagined it.”

“Thank goodness.” The sigh of relief was more than just verbal, it was liberating, and she physically felt lighter. For a moment, she’d doubted if she was experiencing an actual memory. Part of her imagination could have been distorted from the concussion.

Was that a possibility? She had definitely passed out after the accident. Could she have warped what really happened? Should she throw that scenario into the mix? No. She wasn’t paranoid, just overthinking as usual. It was better to wait on the investigation and not doubt herself.

“Look, Miss Allen. Until we know what’s going on, everyone believes it’s better for me to stick close.”

“I can’t do my work just anywhere. Even under protective custody at the observatory would be difficult. Don’t I have to consent or something? And who’s everyone?”

For once, the man with all the answers seemed at a loss for words. It couldn’t be plainer he was choosing his words carefully.

“I’m not trying to scare you, but being new around here you may not know that we’ve had a lot of drugs and guns crossing the border recently. Strange activity involving a helicopter and a disappearing body seems more than a little suspicious. It’s better to be safe.”

“And better to keep me close while you verify that I don’t have anything to do with it.”

“Hmm, there is that.”

He grinned again, and she realized that there wasn’t anything calculating about it. He seemed to be a good-looking, concerned officer who took his job very seriously to help her feel safe and at ease. Correction, he was absolutely terrific-looking and naturally charming. And off-limits?

Pete Morrison should be off-limits. She was completing her study and then getting a job halfway around the world. No reason to get involved. It wasn’t logical. She didn’t have time for a relationship.

Satisfied he was there to help and she needed to curb her attraction, she slapped her thighs, ready to cooperate. “I have a passport to verify who I am. It’s at the observatory housing where I’m staying until I get my telescope time. I’m only here for three weeks.”

He put the truck in motion. “So it was just coincidence that you were at the Viewing Area looking for the lights? Tourist or PhD work?”

“Filling in for a student. It’s an ongoing study by UT. That’s why I was driving her car. I hope her insurance covers accident by strange helicopter. She’s going to kill me.”

“No comment. I don’t let people borrow my truck.” He put the patrol car in Drive. “Not even my dad.”

The circular building where tourists stopped to watch for the Marfa Lights phenomenon passed by amid several parked vehicles, including another squad car identical to the one she was inside. The radio squawked, and Pete lifted the hand microphone to his lips. It certainly was easy to think of the man by his first name.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“And what if it hadn’t been me?” answered a gruff voice through the static.

“It’s always you.” Pete laughed after he’d released the talk button and couldn’t be heard. “Remember that I have a ride-along.”

“I ain’t that old, buster Pete. Not much new here, but DHS wants you to meet them at the station with the witness.”

“Headed there now. Out.”

He stowed the microphone, and she waited for an explanation, but waiting wasn’t really her thing. She was more of a straight-to-the-point, fixer type of person and yet she really didn’t want to explain right now.

“Real DHS?” she asked, gulping at the potential conversation she’d be forced to have soon.

“The Department of Homeland Security. Looks like our missing body rang some official bells.”

“Dang it.”
Are they here for a missing body or because of my involvement?
It didn’t take much to come to the conclusion it was about her. “Did they mention why they want to talk to me?”

“They probably need your statement. This is a good thing. They’ll move the investigation forward a lot faster. You should be glad. We’ll be out of your hair that much sooner.”

Her instinct and her luck shouted differently.

“Not likely. Why is this happening now? Oh, I know you mentioned the guns and drugs and border thing. But I’m so close to finishing this dissertation. Shoot.”

They entered Marfa and turned north toward the county jail. Pete let his department dispatch know they were on their way in.

“Did they say who would be coming here?” she asked.

“You know someone at Homeland Security?”

Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to explain herself. She’d give her interview, they’d say everything was a huge mistake, no one’s actually trying to kill you and she could return to finish her short time in the Davis Mountains. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“Andrea, you’re the one who brought it up.”

“And I’m the one who’s not going to talk about it.”
Not unless I really, really have to.

Chapter Five

Close to nine in the morning, an official government vehicle pulled in front of the Presidio County Sheriff’s Department. One uniformed man got out. Navy, lots of rank. He openly assessed the street, then spent several minutes checking his phone.

Pete watched everything, but his main focus was Andrea. Her posture changed. She looked defeated. After she’d said she didn’t want to discuss the DHS, she didn’t discuss anything. Gone was the chatty, confident woman who spoke her mind. Now she was withdrawn, closed off, silent, and stood with her hands wrapped around her waist.

The officer acknowledged Pete, but his eyes had connected with Andrea and he wasn’t looking anywhere else.

“Commander,” Andrea said on a long, exasperated sigh and led the way to his dad’s office. She clearly didn’t want the DHS representative to be the man who’d walked into the sheriff’s office.

“Andrea,” the DHS expert acknowledged with a similar annoyed exhale. He shut the door behind him, leaving only silhouettes against the opaque window—letting Pete know they were on opposite sides of the small room.

Interesting. His witness recognized military rank and the DHS officer seemed to know her. She’d been tight-lipped since they arrived at the station. Either pretending to be asleep on his cot in the back or flat out refusing to answer any questions.

“Do you want something to eat, Pete?” Honey asked.

The shift change had occurred at eight o’clock sharp, just like every normal day. Peach and Honey insisted on working seven days a week, knowing his dad would let them off anytime they wanted. They liked staying busy, but they liked staying out of each other’s hair more. They’d each confided in him—and probably everyone else in town—that it was the only reason they continued to live in the same house.

“No, thanks, Honey. I thought I’d take Miss Allen to the café when she’s done.”

“Are you sure she’s not going to be whisked away by aliens or a secret government agency?” The older woman laughed, making fun of several theories Peach had shared before leaving. “The sheriff is hung up at the scene for at least another hour, Pete. He wanted me to let you know.”

He could guess why his father hadn’t spoken to him directly. Most likely to keep his cool at the lack of cooperation. “He still fighting for information?”

“I can only assume so,” Honey said, picking up her pen. “You know those government types. They never let us in on the fun.”

“You adding this to your novel?” he asked, and was ignored since she was already engrossed in writing her sentence.

Peach came up with the stories and Honey was the aspiring writer who wrote them down. They’d kept the local women busy debating the realism of their tales for several years. It was obvious even to strangers that they were best friends who happened to be sisters.

A yawn escaped him. It was the first double shift he’d completed without a wink of shut-eye in a long while. But he couldn’t head back to the ranch until DHS instructed them on what was to happen with Andrea. His dad would be at the scene awhile. That left him with nothing to do but catch up on paperwork and wait for their guests to finish. He’d be lucky if he could go home afterward.

“Since things are covered at the moment, I’m going to grab a quick shower in the back and wake up. Alert me if they,” he said, hooking his thumb toward his dad’s closed office door, “finish up.”

“I have a feeling they’re going to be there awhile,” Honey said. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that he’s here to interview a witness and didn’t even introduce himself?”

“I suppose you have a point. I’m not certain what protocol is for something like this. We normally don’t share murder jurisdiction with anyone.”

“You certain there’s not going to be another murder soon?”

Voices were definitely rising on the other side of the window, but the old building had walls thick enough that he couldn’t distinguish the words. Should he step inside and allow them to cool off? If he was closer, maybe he could understand what the argument was about.

“Do you think you should join them and referee?” Honey asked.

Pete took definite steps toward the arguing and stopped. It only took those three steps to realize he’d been waiting on encouragement from Honey so he could barge in and rescue Andrea again.