Since he’d written down the license number before while searching for information on Sam, Lincoln had no trouble spotting it. It had been found on a rural highway not too far from Simple. He pulled out his cellphone and called the number of the tow company. The woman who answered was friendly and efficient and even more so when she found out he was a Texas Ranger. Within a few minutes, he had his answer.
“Yes, our records say that we towed it,” the woman said.
“And who picked it up?” he asked.
“It seems that no one picked it up.”
His shoulders tightened. “What happened to the truck?”
“We usually sell them to pay for the tow and storage, but I guess this truck was too old because it says we sold it to the junkyard for scrap metal. It’s probably been melted down by now.”
After he hung up, Dixie looked at him. “So it’s another dead end.”
Lincoln shook his head. “No. It’s confirmation that Sam never left Simple.”
Chapter Eleven
Murder.
Up until this point, it had just been a word Dixie had used to put her daddy into checkmate. But now that it was actually becoming a reality, the game she was playing with her father wasn’t so much fun anymore. Especially if she ended up dead. Which was much more likely to happen when dealing with a murderer than a jaywalker.
If her father didn’t give in soon, she would have to admit she had bitten off more than she could chew and call this charade quits. Surprisingly, the thought of losing her pageant consulting business didn’t bother her as much as the idea of leaving the town without a deputy.
During her daily patrols, she’d gotten close to the people of Simple. She now viewed them as her friends and cared about their welfare. She reminded them not to text and drive and to slow down for school zones. She pointed out sidewalk advertisement signs that needed to be moved so no one would trip and got after the bouncer at Cotton-Eyed Joe’s for not carding people. She had befriended Cheyenne and her daddy and had sent business his way so they could stay in Simple. And she’d gotten with the pastors of the two churches in town about what could be done to help the people who lived in Lucky Lane Trailer Park.
For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had purpose. It wasn’t winning a glittery crown or a pretty sash. It was helping an entire town become a safer, better place to live. Except she couldn’t keep people safe. Not from a murderer. She broke out in a cold sweat at just the thought of having to pull out her gun and shoot someone.
She glanced over at the man who sat on the other side of the desk from her. While Dixie was a jittery mess at the prospect of facing a murderer, Lincoln Hayes looked as cool as a glass of sweet tea. He was relaxed back in the chair with his laptop on his lap and his intense gaze scanning the screen. A lock of black hair had fallen over his brow and he was distractedly rubbing the scar on his lip. It was extremely sensual, and a tingle of desire settled in her tummy. But since it had become an hourly occurrence, she had gotten extremely good at ignoring it.
“How did you get it?”
He glanced up, his eyes confused. She had once thought his eyes were just plain brown. But that was before she had spent the last week sitting across a desk from him. Now she knew they were a rich dark chocolate with a splash of lighter milk chocolate. She also knew other things. He liked his coffee with no sugar but lots of cream. And he could go without breakfast, but by lunch, his stomach started rumbling and he needed to eat or he got surly. He preferred his cheeseburgers with no onions. By four o’clock, he had a five o’clock shadow that covered his jaw and the dimple in his chin with sexy black stubble. And pulling a conversation out of him was like extracting molars.
“Get what?” he asked.
She touched the top corner of her mouth. “Your scar.”
He removed his finger from the scar. “A cut when I was a kid. Have you found anything in any of the reports about deserted trucks?”
They had been going through all the reports that had come into the sheriff’s office after Sam left the Double Diamond, hoping to find the report about Sam’s truck being found. So far, they’d found nothing.
“No,” she said. “How did you cut it?”
He hesitated for a second before he looked back at his laptop. “On a ring. Now let’s get back to work.”
“You wore a ring as a kid?”
“No, my mom’s boyfriend did.”
All those tingles of sexual awareness turned into a huge pang of shock and sympathy. Her parents had never lifted a hand to her. Her punishment had always been long lectures given by her father or a look of disappointment from her mother. She was stunned and appalled.
“I’m sorry. I hope your mother kicked the jerk to the curb.”
He laughed, a harsh sound that held no humor. “Actually, I was the one who got kicked to the curb.” The heartbreak she felt that a mother would choose a boyfriend over her own child must have shown on her face because Lincoln sighed. “It’s not a big deal. Not everyone can be a spoiled senator’s kid.”
“I wasn’t spoiled.” He lifted his eyebrows and she conceded. “Okay, I was a little spoiled. But my mama and daddy believed in making me work hard for what I wanted.”
“Which explains how you graduated top of your class at the police academy.” It was her turn to lift her eyebrows, and he shrugged. “I looked it up. The only
