Halfway around, Kate shifted back into drive. As soon as the car finished spinning, she turned the wheel the other way and hit the gas, heading back the way they’d come. Then she turned down the road the SUV had taken, returning to the chase.
Natalie held her hand over her heart, making sure the poor thing hadn’t flown out the window in the middle of that J-turn. The smell of burning rubber filled the car. “When did you learn how to do that?”
“I told you, I saw Jim Rockford do it years ago on the old TV show and then asked Gramps to show me how. He took me out on a back road in the hills and taught me how to do it with Grandma’s old sedan.”
Dear Lord! Kate wasn’t just crazy. She was certifiably, grade-A, stark raving mad. “You’re pregnant!”
“That was nothing. I’ve hit higher Gs rushing around the store with a shopping cart.”
“Kate, I’m too old for this sh—”
“There he goes!” She made another hard left, sending Natalie slamming into her door. “I’m going to cut him off.”
“What? How?”
“I know a shortcut.” Two tire-skidding turns later, Kate turned into a narrow alley with brick buildings on both sides and slammed on her brakes.
The SUV was coming toward them, playing chicken.
“Please stop, please stop, please stop,” Natalie chanted.
The SUV slid to a stop.
“Oh, thank the Maker!”
The driver laid on the horn. Behind him, Deputy Dipshit ramrodded into the alley, blocking the SUV from the other direction.
“We got him!” Kate shifted into park. She grabbed the Taser she’d used on Harvey from her purse, shoved it in the back of her yoga pants, and pushed open her door.
“What are you doing?” Natalie grabbed Kate’s arm.
“He’s trapped. I need to hit the killer with some volts before he makes a run for it.” Kate pulled free and stormed away.
Natalie sat for a second, her pulse still racing from the chase. Now what?
“Son of a bitch!” She shoved open her door and followed her pregnant cousin into battle.
* * *
Ronnie leaned against the sheriff’s truck, watching over the hood as Grady conferred with the fire marshal about the blackened Winnebago carcass.
Grady couldn’t have gotten more than a blink or two of sleep, although his uniform looked crisp enough and his posture had no slouch to be seen. She was often amazed at his ability to work long, long hours without showing his exhaustion to the world. She, on the other hand, had given up last night, crashing on Gramps’s and Ruby’s bed after Grady told her he’d be another hour tying up loose ends.
After a quick shower to rinse off the smell of burning Winnebago, Ronnie had slept like the dead. This morning, she’d called Katie before she left home and requested her sister bring her red flare pants and black long-sleeve tunic for Ronnie to borrow for the day. Unfortunately, she had to borrow a pair of underwear and a bra from Claire, neither of which fit her quite right. Or maybe it was the knowledge that she had to come clean with Grady that had her squirming in her sisters’ clothes.
While she was getting dressed, Grady had stopped by the General Store to see if Ronnie was around. He’d left a message with Jessica to come find him at the fire scene.
And so here Ronnie stood. His beck-and-call girl.
She stared across the drive at his backside view—long legs, nice ass, narrow waist, strong back, and broad shoulders. He was built to carry the weight of the county’s worries. She hated to add to that load, but she needed to spill a few secrets now that Gramps’s Winnebago had been added to the growing list of fatalities in the sheriff’s jurisdiction.
Grady looked around, as if he could sense her stare. He tipped his hat upon seeing her, his face softening into a small smile. Then the fire marshal showed him something on his red clipboard and Grady’s smile faded.
This fire was meant for her. Ronnie was ninety-nine percent sure of it, especially after the note Claire had found yesterday on the RV’s windshield.
They should have told Grady about that note, but he’d been working a double shift yesterday. And then the whole Lyle mess had blown up in Ronnie’s face, knocking her off course.
She sighed, scanning the RV park. So much could have gone wrong last night. This was her fault. If she weren’t here, the Winnebago would still be in one piece and Claire wouldn’t be next up on a hit man’s list.
She ran her hands through her hair, tired of the guilt gorilla beating her down day after day. She needed to flip things around and get the upper hand on this shit, take back her life.
How many times had she thought that lately?
Too many to count. Cripes!
The problem was, she wasn’t sure exactly what life she needed to take back. She had been Lyle’s high-society wife before coming down to Arizona. Before that, she’d been her mother’s puppet, doing everything she was told to do in order to find the “perfect” husband.
Truth be told, Ronnie wasn’t sure who she really was anymore. Claire had accused her of returning to her old ways, dressing to please others, adjusting her behavior to fit a perceived mold. And she was right. But how did a tiger change her stripes this late in the game?
Ronnie supposed she could start her journey of self-discovery by focusing on the one part of her life she was sure about in her heart—her family. They knew her true character and accepted her, warts and all. Well, maybe not her mother, but there’d be no moving that mountain anytime soon.
Thinking about her family made her think about Grady’s family. She cringed. What if they didn’t like her? What if they thought she wasn’t good enough for Grady? What if …
“Veronica.” Grady’s gruff voice interrupted her worries. He joined her at his truck. “How are you doing?” He leaned
