“Larry used words like a master.”
“Exactly. And he could slice like a knife in very few words when he saw or heard something he didn’t like. Anyway, people might find it easier to talk with me because I know Larry wasn’t perfect. I hope.”
That was a good point. Maybe. She ate another forkful of salad, getting a mouthful of delightful blue cheese, along with meat rolls. The knot in her stomach was easing, and her taste buds were evidently waking up.
He just wanted to speak to people who’d known his brother? Sounded innocuous enough. But there were other possibilities looming in the shadows. She stared down at her salad, suspecting that she’d let her tension leave too soon.
DANIEL DUKE STUDIED the woman with whom he’d been partnered. She clearly didn’t like it any more than he did. He was a man used to going on missions and making his own decisions within the confines of what was legal. Things were different in a war, of course, but he knew where the bright lines were, and he kept himself within them.
He didn’t like the idea of someone peering over his shoulder and trying to control him. She had been chosen to be his watchdog. He was already chafing at the idea. He could move more freely on his own.
The Ranger in him, he supposed. There had been a few times when he’d air-dropped into enemy territory with nothing to rely on but himself. He had always accomplished his mission.
He’d also seen enough of the expressions crossing Cat Jansen’s face to guess that she didn’t like this, either.
He’d managed to set her back up. In the long run, that wouldn’t matter. He’d come here for two purposes only: to bury his brother and to find a killer. If the sheriff’s people succeeded, he’d be content, although it wouldn’t be as satisfying. But this wasn’t about satisfying himself.
He glanced toward Cat as he finished his sandwich. It seemed she was eating without a whole lot of pleasure. Uncomfortable situation.
But he noticed again the arresting combination of black hair and brilliant blue eyes, a combination that would make anyone look twice. It had been the first thing he had noticed about her when he walked through the door of the office. And while uniforms seldom enhanced a woman’s attractions, he still felt hers from across the table. When she moved, he could tell that she was fit, maybe even athletic.
But he wasn’t here to notice a woman’s beauty or anything else. They needed to forge a working relationship somehow, although he’d have been satisfied to tell her to continue her other duties and he’d keep her informed.
She didn’t strike him as the type who was going to give him a leash that long.
Oh hell, he thought and reached for a potato wedge. He’d begun all wrong, but he didn’t know how he could have begun better. He was furious beyond words over his brother’s murder. He wanted the killer to face trial at the very least, and when he returned to his battalion, he wanted to know the guy was in jail. Caught. Going up the river as fast as possible.
Only when justice lay within reach would he be able to properly grieve for Larry. Because justice had indeed been important to Larry, something he’d been willing to risk his neck over. Then there was Duke’s own guilt. He’d never be able to overcome that now, but he could deal with finding justice. Finding peace for Larry.
He spoke at last, trying to discover a way to meet this woman somewhere in the middle. Neither of them was happy to be here.
“Larry always used to say that the dead can’t rest without justice.”
Her head lifted from her salad, and he felt again the impact of her eyes. “You said he believed in it.”
“The thing is, my brother was a realist, hardheaded and fact oriented. Then he’d say something like that. It was one of the things that drove his reporting.”
“While I only knew him a short time, I didn’t see anything remotely fanciful in him.” She paused. “So you think Larry won’t rest?”
“I don’t know what comes after we die. It’s all a mystery, and I tend to rely on facts, too. But since I don’t know, I want Larry to get his justice. And frankly, I want justice, too.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
She sounded as if she did. Well, maybe that was a step in the right direction. He certainly needed to find one, since he’d started wrong, at least as far as Cat was concerned.
Parsing through the problem, trying to come up with a strategy, he slowly ate potato wedges and gave Cat space to enjoy her salad while he looked out the window. Spring sunshine drenched the street, and all the buildings appeared to have arisen early in the last century. He suspected renovations in this town tried to preserve the past, not erase it.
Maybe she needed to understand that he hadn’t had to come to the police. He’d done so because he didn’t want to get in a war with the cops here. That could mess everything up. And while he’d tried to make that clear, he wasn’t sure he had.
There was Cat’s reaction. He had to figure out how to persuade her before this became a bigger problem.
NEARLY TWENTY MILES AWAY, in a fold in the earth that cradled them in secrecy, three men sat around a small fire. The stream that trickled beside them, clearly runoff from the remaining snow high above in the mountains, made a pleasant sound as the afternoon began to wane.
It was far nicer than many of the places where they’d made a surreptitious camp. They all dressed casually, like campers or hikers, in jeans and long-sleeved shirts of varying plaids. Hiking boots finished off the unimpressive
