Luke glanced at Clay, who was striding toward the front door, concern etched on his handsome face.

A young woman opened the door before he got the chance to knock. She was just over five feet tall and slightly built, a pretty brunette with big brown eyes.

Luke thought Shay Phillips looked young, but this girl appeared no older than a teenager. His opinion of Jesse Ryan slipped down another notch. The guy had been robbing the hell out of the cradle.

Her eyes slid from Clay to him and back again. The baby in her arms wailed.

“Can I help?” Clay asked.

“Yeah. I need to change Grace and Mama’s…” she trailed off, wincing as the baby let out another loud cry, and gesturing toward the couch behind her. “I just got home,” she added, obviously exasperated.

She disappeared inside and Clay followed. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Luke saw a slender woman reclined on the sofa, arms akimbo, her bleached blond hair in disarray. There was an empty liquor bottle on the coffee table.

“Darlene,” Clay said gently, bending down and wrapping those thin arms around his neck. “Let’s get you to your room.”

She roused a bit, but didn’t fight him. “Clayton? Is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Deputy Clayton Trujillo, at your service.” He lifted her off the couch as if she weighed nothing.

“I want to dance.”

“Sure thing, honey. Let’s dance this way.”

Luke waited alone in the living room, thinking he couldn’t have imagined a more awkward scene. Why was Jesse’s child bride living like a pauper, and leaving her baby in the care of a falling-down drunk?

He wasn’t here to evaluate anyone’s parenting skills, but he did give his surroundings a cursory examination. As a state employee, he was under a legal and ethical obligation to report any evidence of child abuse.

Other than the bottle on the table, and an empty glass next to it, the place was tidy. The carpet was worn but clean, the space free of clutter, and the air smelled faintly of pine-scented furniture polish. On the entertainment center, above the TV, there was one framed photo, a close-up of Tamara cradling a newborn Grace.

The young woman came back into the hallway, baby on her hip, at the same time Clay returned from the bedroom. He sidestepped to let her pass, but she stopped in her tracks, as if his proximity flustered her. The near- collision was so emotionally charged that even Luke felt uncomfortable, and he was ten feet away.

“Thanks,” she muttered, as if she was grateful for Clay’s assistance but resented its necessity.

Clay shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “It’s no big deal.”

The baby in her arms continued to cry. “She’s hungry,” Tamara explained, casting another worried glance at Luke.

He introduced himself quickly. “I need to ask some questions about Jesse. It will only take a few minutes.”

“Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. It had a decidedly stubborn tilt. “Have a seat.”

Luke waited for her to settle in on the couch, Clay at her side, before he took the only other chair, a sturdy oak rocker with a faded blue seat cushion.

Tamara Ryan wasn’t at all what he’d expected. She had a silky cap of brown hair, cut bluntly across her forehead, and a slight overbite that gave her a cute, mousy look. With her heart-shaped face and velvety brown eyes, she was attractive, but hardly a femme fatale.

Jesse had thrown Shay over for this mere girl? Or had he been caught with this sweet young thing and made to pay the price?

Having little choice in the matter, for the baby was still fussing, Tamara reached beneath her shirt and unfastened the cup of her bra. Although she tried to stay modestly covered, little Grace wanted a clear shot at her target. The baby gripped the edge of her mother’s shirt in her chubby fist, revealing the inner curve of one pale, milk-swollen breast.

Luke averted his eyes respectfully, turning his attention toward Clay while she got the baby situated. The deputy was also looking in the opposite direction, his jaw set in anger, a dull stain coloring his cheekbones. Public breast-feeding was much more common among Indian women, so it didn’t faze Luke, and it shouldn’t be fazing Clay.

Maybe he felt as though Luke should have offered to wait while she fed the baby in the other room.

Having been raised by his mother, off-reservation, Luke would understand if Tamara was reluctant to nurse her baby in front of a stranger. What he didn’t get was how anyone, especially a man, could be offended by the sight. He was baffled by the Anglo hang-up about breasts, although he could certainly relate to their masculine fascination for them.

As Grace snuggled in and began to suckle in earnest, some of the tension eased from Tamara’s face. She still looked tired, and far too young for motherhood, despite her body’s apparent readiness for the task, but now she also appeared serene, like an underage Madonna.

“How old are you?” he couldn’t help but ask.

When Clay flinched at the question, Luke had to wonder if he had a hankering for very young girls, too. Perhaps this one in particular.

“Twenty-three,” she answered, glancing at Clay, reading his discomfort.

Surprised, because she looked about seventeen, Luke did some quick math. Maybe the girl had actually been legal when Jesse had started messing around with her. “How long have you and Jesse been married?”

“Five years. Separated for most of it.”

He guessed that Grace had come into the picture during a period of time they weren’t separated. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

Her mouth twisted wryly. “A month ago. At least.”

“He doesn’t visit Grace?”

“Sometimes he comes when I’m not here. We don’t get along.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s a lying, cheating bastard.”

Luke couldn’t argue that point. And yet, he’d come here to ask invasive questions, not to agree with her. “Do you have proof of his infidelities?”

“Proof?” She let out a harsh laugh, blowing the hair off her forehead. “No. But I’d have to be blind, and an idiot, not to know about his other women.”

“Shay Phillips?” he asked, struggling to maintain an aura of nonchalance.

When her eyes darkened, he knew she harbored a slew of ill feelings. He had to admit he had some of those himself. Although Luke didn’t consider Jesse his rival, or his equal, he didn’t like picturing Shay with another man. “Yes,” she said. “And more besides.”

“Yesenia Montes?”

Her brows rose. Then the implications of his question sank in. “What, exactly, are you investigating?”

“The accident. Jesse was the last person to see her alive.” That we know of, he added silently.

Tamara returned her attention to Grace, who had finished feeding on one side. She lifted the baby and began to pat her on the back. “I don’t know anything about him and Yesenia. To tell you the truth, I’d be surprised to hear he was with her.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because although she’s a cheap whore, she comes at a price. And Jesse never had to pay for anything in his life.”

Luke glanced at Clay, who seemed to not only agree with that description, but to burn with resentment over it. On the way over, he hadn’t asked about Clay’s relationship with Tamara, because he wasn’t sure it was relevant.

He still wasn’t sure. But it was pretty damned interesting.

Luke leaned back in his chair, averting his gaze once again as Tamara finished burping Grace and settled her in to nurse on the other side.

“Do you need anything?” Clay asked her quietly.

“You’ve done enough.”

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