She frowned. “Let me save you the trouble. He didn’t get away with anything. I wouldn’t let him.”
Was it true? Or was it another defense mechanism—like the one that kicked in whenever someone asked him about the Dunlaps? I don’t care about them…. I hope I never see my father again…. I don’t have a father….
“Can I break his jaw for trying?”
He expected her to tell him no, for her mother’s sake if not for any other reason. But when he saw tears in her eyes, he realized just how alone she must’ve felt in those days. And just how tired and battle weary she was right now.
Clearing her throat, she glanced away. “That’s enough catching up for one night. I’ve got to go.”
He nearly reached over to squeeze her hand. But he didn’t want her to think he pitied her. He knew from experience that pity was worse than contempt or anything else. So he got out and let her leave.
12
Sophia wasn’t sure why she’d told Rod about her stepfather. Except for Starkey and her mother, no one knew. Even her brother, Tyler, who would only feel too guilty for not being there to protect her. And it wasn’t as if she could go to her real father. After the divorce, he’d been on the verge of a complete meltdown; she couldn’t break his heart with something like this.
So why had she exposed the truth to Rod Guerrero? And why did the past seem to be so present tonight? She’d mostly forgotten that terrible year and a half, hadn’t she? Of course she had. She and her stepfather were now on speaking terms. When she attended holiday gatherings at her mother’s place, they were polite to each other. They’d never be close, but she had no business dredging up the past when they’d all moved on. The fact that she felt the need to do so didn’t make sense.
But her reaction to Rod didn’t make sense, either. So what if he was good-looking? She’d known other good-looking men who didn’t affect her in the same way. Was she drawn to him because he could so easily identify with her pain? Because they were both struggling to overcome an earlier period in their lives that dealt with this town and its people? Or because she hoped for his understanding, maybe even his forgiveness, for standing him up at such a vulnerable age, when he’d already been going through so much?
Maybe it was a mixture…
Wrapped up in her thoughts and the lingering memory of Rod’s kiss, she almost didn’t notice the pickup parked behind the Mexican restaurant across the street. Even after she spotted it, she didn’t think much about it until the headlights came on. Then she realized that someone was inside, and got the strangest feeling that whoever it was had been watching her. She also got the impression he—or they—didn’t mind if she knew it.
Pulling a U-turn, she swung around to see if it was Stuart. It hadn’t looked like his truck, but she’d just caught a glimpse of the front grille before turning. And watching her like that was something he might do, especially if he was still angry at her for siding with Rod at the jail.
Once, when she’d gone over to Starkey’s to pick up Rafe, she’d come out to find Rod’s half brother sitting in his vehicle as if he’d followed her there. When she stopped to ask what he was doing, he’d said he was in the area to see a friend who lived nearby. But the only person Stuart knew who lived that close to Starkey was Ellen Broomsfield—someone else they’d gone to high school with. Sophia had never known Stuart to hang out with Ellen, or even be kind to her. Ellen weighed at least three hundred and fifty pounds and was virtually a recluse. A friend like that would be an embarrassment to Stuart. Sophia couldn’t imagine him visiting her.
Still, that incident hadn’t really alarmed her. Not the way this one did. The earlier one had happened in the light of day and before she’d known they had a killer in their midst. There was also the fact that she hadn’t been tempted to stay and take off her clothes for Starkey, so it hadn’t felt like such an invasion of privacy.
What if she’d decided to spend a few hours at the motel? She wouldn’t have wanted Stuart or anyone else to know about it. Although she didn’t plan on getting intimate with Rod, she wanted to feel as if she could make that decision without someone creeping around behind her, taking notes—whether she was on duty or not. Because she was always on duty. There was so much responsibility involved in being chief of police, her private and professional lives had merged. There wasn’t any other way to live if you were a small-town cop.
Red taillights up ahead told her she was closing in on the vehicle she’d spotted. But if the driver knew she was behind him, he didn’t seem concerned. He appeared to be going too fast, and she was pretty sure he’d just run a red light.
Hoping this was merely a random DUI, she flipped on her flashers and checked for oncoming traffic before charging through the same intersection.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t Stuart. The truck was too old and dented. The Dunlaps prided themselves on having money and made a point of showing it. And the person behind the wheel was wearing a cowboy hat. If Stuart ever wore a hat, it was a baseball cap.
Thanks to the driver’s speed, she didn’t catch up with him until the town’s buildings had fallen away to desert. Even then, he didn’t pull over.
Once she drew close enough to see the license plate, she put the number in her computer to get the DMV information and found that the truck was registered to a Dwight Smith.
It wasn’t a name she recognized….
In case Dwight was too drunk to notice the red and blue lights behind him, she turned on her siren and came right up on his bumper.
Finally the driver slowed and pulled onto the shoulder.
They were so far from Bordertown, Sophia couldn’t see anything that wasn’t in the direct beam of her headlights, which made her uneasy. But she had a job to do. Grabbing her flashlight with her left hand, she kept her right on the handle of her gun as she cautiously approached the truck.
“Step out of the car and put your hands up,” she called out.
“Somethin’ wrong, Chief?”
Sophia had yet to see the driver’s face, but she knew that voice. This wasn’t Dwight Smith. It was Leonard Taylor. He’d lowered his window, but he wasn’t getting out, as she’d asked.
“I said to step out of the vehicle.”
The door still didn’t open. “Have I done somethin’ wrong?”
“Get out!”
Making sure she heard his exaggerated sigh, he opened a door rusty enough to squeal on its hinges. “Is this really necessary?”