Sheriff’s Runaway Witness

wasn’t true. Because money left a trail-a trail not of breadcrumbs, but pebbles, so easy a child could follow it.

Let alone the likes of Carlos Delacorte.

He had to tell her about this. Ask her if she knew. That’s what he told himself as he picked up the carrier and bag and fumbled his way through the front door and into the house-that he needed to talk to Rachel about this new development. But the truth was, he just felt a powerful need to see with his own eyes that she was safe, even though he knew perfectly well she was, at least for the moment.

Or maybe he just felt a need see her. And he didn’t stop, then, to ask himself why.

Inside, he found himself in a large foyer paved with Mexican terra-cotta tiles, which stretched across the width of the house to where double French doors opened onto a veranda. Beyond that he could see a sunlit courtyard filled with flowers, and hear the music from a large tiered fountain. Beyond the fountain, he could see Rachel sitting in a rocking chair, holding her baby. He couldn’t see her clearly because she was in the shade of the veranda, but his heart stumbled anyway. Breath gusted from his chest, half relief, half consternation.

What the hell was that?

Before he could come up with a reasonable answer to that question, the housekeeper-Josie-entered the foyer through open double doors on his right.

“Oh-here you are,” she exclaimed, smiling another one of her warm welcomes. “Come-I’ll show you to your room. I…you know, I thought you’d want to be right next to Rachel’s.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything, too shaken by his unanticipated response to seeing a woman he had no intimate connection to-if you didn’t count delivering her baby and saving her life-to form coherent phrases.

He did recover enough to give Josie a smile to go with the nod, then followed her through the living room-a massive room with a high-vaulted and beamed ceiling that still managed to feel cozy, thanks to warm colors and comfortable furniture arranged in small, intimate groups-and a formal Spanish-style dining room with a table roughly the size of a tennis court. Beyond that was the kitchen, which appeared capable of providing food for a decent-sized restaurant, with all the modern conveniences he could think of and some he didn’t even know the use for. All three rooms had big windows that looked out across manzanita and juniper and rock-studded hillsides to the green valley far below and the blue and purple mountains beyond. Impressive view, he thought. Not so great from a security standpoint.

He felt better, though, when Josie led him through a door off the kitchen and into what was obviously a bedroom wing. Here a wide hallway ran along the outside wall the entire length of the house. From it, doors opened into rooms which in turn opened onto the veranda and center courtyard. There were no doors in the outer wall, and the only windows were small and high. Except for the “public” wing, the house was built like a fortress.

“I hope this is okay-there are two more bedrooms on this side, and four more across the courtyard.” Josie was standing in an open doorway, smiling at him.

He moved past her and into the room-a nice room, he noted; spacious, comfortable, clean-what else would he have expected? “This is fine.” He could see Rachel through the French doors, sitting in a rocker, nursing her baby. He took a breath and felt himself relax a little. He glanced at the housekeeper. “Mind if I ask, where would Sam Malone’s quarters be?”

“Oh-Sam-Mr. Malone’s suite is down at the far end-next to the chapel.” Was it his imagination, or did her cheeks seem pinker?

“Would you like something to drink?” Josie asked, one hand on the doorknob. “Coffee?”

“That would be great,” he said absently as he set his duffel bag on the floor and walked toward the double French doors. Beyond them, he could see Rachel, her face turned away from him as she gazed at the baby nursing at her breast. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders like a shawl woven of black ink. Behind him he heard Josie’s soft affirmation, then the door closing. He hesitated for a moment, then opened the doors and stepped out onto the veranda.

She turned her face toward him without surprise or alarm. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her smile sleepy… sexy…sweet.

It had been a long time since he’d felt the emotion that flooded him then, but not so long he had trouble recognizing it for what it was.

Happiness.

Well, hell, he thought.

Hey, you’re a cop-homicide. Tough guy. Who knew you’d be such a sucker for a broad with a baby?

Look, so you’re attracted to her. She’s drop-dead gorgeous-who wouldn’t be? Get over it. What matters is what you’re planning to do about it. Right?

Right. Which is nothing.

For all kinds of reasons. One, she just had a baby. Two, she just lost her husband. And three, she’s a potential witness to a double murder in your protective custody, and the one who’s going to save your miserable career.

So…hands off, Jethro.

“Hey,” he said, his smile safely professional, “I see you and the little guy are settling in.”

“Yes.” She glanced down at the baby, and when she lifted her eyes to him again, he saw they were misty with tears.

He ran over in his mind all the reasons he’d just given himself to stay detached and braced himself.

“Thank you, Jethro,” she said in a soft, choked voice.

He jerked back a little bit and said, “What for?”

“For bringing me here. I don’t care what happens with my grandfather. I just…I feel safe here. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Impassively, he watched a tear quiver on the edge of her lower lashes, then spill over and run down her cheek. “Hey, I’m glad you’re happy,” he said. “Just keep this little guy happy, too.” He reached out and tweaked the blanket in the general vicinity of the baby’s feet. Then he turned and went back into his room and closed the doors, closed his eyes and let out the breath he’d been holding.

No way in hell was he going to spoil it all for her by telling her how safe she wasn’t.

From the memoirs of Sierra Sam Malone:

I never expected I’d be a father. For one thing, I never thought I’d be any good at it, given the kind of fatherhood I’d experienced firsthand growing up, and didn’t care to pass that misery along to another poor helpless mite. But Elizabeth, she had other ideas. Evidently, she saw something in me the rest of the world had missed, because one day there I was, sitting beside her and holding on to her hand while she screamed and hollered and the doctor who’d come out from Barstow helped her to bring our son, Sean, into the world.

Now, it wasn’t a common thing in those days for the prospective father to be anywhere near where the action was. Most likely he’d be sent off to boil water or pace up and down and smoke cigarettes somewhere within earshot of the blood-curdling screams of his beloved so he’d know what a lousy good-for-nothing bastard he was for getting her into that state. Which would have been fine with me. But once again, Elizabeth, she had other ideas. Flat told me if I ran out on her then, once she got back on her feet she’d hunt me down like a mangy coyote and shoot me dead. And, I had good reason to believe she would.

So, that’s why I was sitting there with her when the doc held up the squalling purple thing we’d agreed to call Sean Ronan Malone-after her father, not mine. And I have to tell you, I wasn’t too impressed with him right off the bat. But then the doc, he laid that baby on Elizabeth’s chest, all angry and wet and kicking and waving his fists like he was mad at the world. Laid him right on her…well, on her bare skin. And I have never forgotten-and I’ve had plenty of time to forget, since I’ve lived longer than I ever thought I would-never forgotten the way she looked as she gathered that baby in, the way she seemed to know just how to nestle him up against her breast, the way she looked at him, like he was all the world’s treasure right there in her arms, the way she sang to him, half laughing, half crying, making a sound like a dove makes when she calls to her mate.

I thought then, and I still think, that was one of the most beautiful sights I or any man will ever see in this world.