Joshua stopped and looked down at Riley

The glow from the streetlights barely touched her features. The cold seeped into Joshua’s skin, and he realized he’d forgotten his gloves. “I guess this wasn’t such a good idea,” he admitted.

“I don’t care about the cold,” Riley said. But he did.

With no other choice, he reached for her hand and put it in his left pocket. Now, with her fingers curled around his, Riley was closer to him than she’d ever been, probably ever would be.

As they walked, Joshua could feel her hold on him, her slender fingers entwined with his, and he was less cold than he’d been a moment ago.

Things had suddenly got a whole lot more complicated. He realized that he’d been desperate to touch her before, and right now he never wanted to let go.

Dear Reader,

Judging Joshua is the second book in my RETURN TO SILVER CREEK series. Joshua Pierce goes back to Silver Creek, Nevada, with a broken heart and the knowledge that he has loved and loved well, but he’ll never love again. He and his small daughter have returned to the mountain to help his sick father. When he makes an arrest on a winding snowy road, he doesn’t yet know that not only will his heart heal, he’ll find love can come a second time and make his life whole again.

Riley Shaw has never loved and truly feels that love is for others, not for her. When she’s arrested just outside the town of Silver Creek, she’s certain that life can’t get any worse. What she doesn’t know is that when Joshua Pierce comes into her life, everything will change and she’ll find out what love is all about.

I hope you enjoy Judging Joshua and you’ll look for the third book in my RETURN TO SILVER CREEK series.

Judging Joshua

Mary Anne Wilson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Emily Vaughn Geisler a.k.a. Bunky

Thank you for all the love and joy you’ve brought into my life.

Love, Mamaw

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Anne Wilson is a Canadian transplanted to Southern California, where she lives with her husband, three children and an assortment of animals. She knew she wanted to write romances when she found herself “rewriting” the great stories in literature, such as A Tale of Two Cities, to give them “happy endings.” Over her long career she’s published more than thirty romances, had her books on bestseller lists, been nominated for Reviewer’s Choice Awards and received a Career Achievement Award in Romantic Suspense. She’s looking forward to her next thirty books.

Books by Mary Anne Wilson

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

1003—PREDICTING RAIN? *

1005—WINNING SARA’S HEART *

1009—WHEN MEGAN SMILES… *

1062—DISCOVERING DUNCAN †

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Going back to Silver Creek should have been a good thing. But going back to his hometown had been hard for Joshua Pierce.

He stepped out of the old stone-and-brick police station on a side street in the town and into the bitter cold of November. The brilliance of the sun glinting off the last snowfall made him narrow his eyes as he finished shrugging into the heavy, green uniform jacket over his jeans and white T-shirt. He didn’t bother doing it up as he headed for the closest squad car in the security parking lot at the side of the building.

Easing his six-foot-tall frame into the cruiser, he turned on the motor and flipped the heater on high. He sat there while the warmth gathered. Two months ago he’d been in Atlanta, in the humid heat of September, with no intention of coming home. Then his world shifted, the way it had more than a year earlier, but this time it was his father who’d needed him.

He was back in Silver Creek, without an idea what he’d do when he left here again. And he would leave.

This wasn’t home anymore. For now he worked, filling in for his father, while the old man recovered from a heart attack, and getting by day by day. It worked. He made it to the next day, time and time again. And that was enough for him.

He pushed the car into gear, hit the release for the security gate, then drove out onto the side street. Turning north on the main street, he looked off toward the rugged peaks of the Sierra Nevada soaring into the heavy gray sky. Silver Creek had some of the best skiing in the West.

The original section of town looked about the same, with old stone-and-brick buildings, some dating back to the silver strike in the 1800s. They looked like a time warp from the past, until you looked more closely and saw that the feed store was now a high-end ski equipment shop. The general store had been transformed into a trendy coffee bar and a specialty cookie store.

Some buildings were the same. Rusty’s Diner was still Rusty’s Diner, run by the red-haired man, and the hotel was still the Silver Creek Hotel. But everything else was changing, and even in Silver Creek, change was inevitable. You couldn’t fight it, he thought as he drove farther north into the newer section where the stores were unabashedly high-end. He’d tried to fight the changes in his life, but, in the end, he hadn’t been able to resist.

He slowed for the influx of traffic at the public skiing slopes to the west and headed away from the bustle of the visitors. Picking up his two-way radio handset, Joshua called in, told them where he was, then settled in for the drive north. He glanced to the west and observed the reason Silver Creek had changed so much in the past ten years. The Inn at Silver Creek.

At first all anyone could see was the high stone wall, partially covered by snow, that seemed to go on forever to the north. It actually ran for two miles before you reached the impressive main entrance. He’d clocked it once for something to do on one of his drives.

The Inn was pricey, fancy, ultraprivate and totally secluded on more than a hundred acres that just happened to encompass the best ski runs in the area. As if thinking of Jack Prescott, the developer and owner of most of Silver Creek, had made him materialize, Joshua approached the front of the inn and spotted Jack’s car on the cobbled entryway that led to massive wooden gates. The red Porsche, a horrible car to be driving up here in the snow, was idling by the guard station. Ryce, the guard on duty, glanced up from his conversation with Jack, who looked in Joshua’s direction, and both men waved.

Joshua beeped his horn and kept going. He’d see Jack later. They’d talk. They’d have a few drinks. Despite the fact that when they were kids they’d thought they could solve the world’s problems, they knew better now. Even if it looked as if the sheriff’s kid and the rich kid hadn’t had much in common, they had been, and still were, friends.

The boundaries of the town were far-reaching, and Joshua often used the time on his rounds to be alone. But as he drove past the last traces of the stone wall that marked the end of Jack’s land, he realized he wasn’t going to have the pleasure of peace and quiet, at least not now.

A black luxury car came toward him from the opposite direction, going too fast, sliding into the curve, then catching traction and heading south. It whizzed past him and Joshua knew he couldn’t let it go. Not on these roads. He swung a quick U-turn and took off after the car. He clocked it at sixty miles an hour, which was about twenty miles too fast for the road. Pulling up behind it, Joshua flipped on his lights and siren. It took a good ten seconds before the driver reacted and he saw the brake lights flash, noted the sudden slowing before it pulled over.

Joshua pulled in behind the car and called the station. He asked Deputy Wesley Gray to run the plates. He’d been used to better equipment in Atlanta, but things took longer in Silver Creek. Everything took longer in the town. Reaching for his uniform hat, Joshua got out and ducked into the chilled wind as he headed to the car.

As he approached, he noticed the car had heavily tinted windows. A BMW, he noted, Illinois plates, practically brand-new. He thought he could make out one person inside.

At the driver’s window, he tapped the glass, and it slid down silently. He bent to look inside. The driver was a woman, but she didn’t fit the type he’d expect to be handling such a car. He’d thought the luxury sedan had most likely been heading for the inn, or cutting through on its way to Las Vegas.

But the woman behind the wheel was pretty, even with the frown of annoyance on her face. Dark hair shot with auburn was pulled back severely in a ponytail from a makeup-free face dominated by deep blue eyes. Long lashes, defined eyebrows, small nose, full lips and an angry look on a slightly pale face. He could see the way her left hand gripped the top of the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were bloodless. But she didn’t have the glitter of gold and diamonds at her fingers, ears or neck.

A plain chambray shirt and jeans weren’t even stylishly faded and worn. They were just faded and worn. She didn’t fit the car at all. “What’s the problem?” she asked abruptly in a breathy voice edged with that anger and annoyance he’d easily picked up on.

“Your license and your registration, ma’am?” He reached his hand through the window, palm up toward her.

“What did I do?”

“We’ll start with speeding,” he said.

He thought she muttered, “Great,” but he couldn’t be sure because she was leaning across the console to reach the glove compartment. Her hair flipped at his hand and he pulled back slightly, catching a hint of some flowery scent. He watched her hit the release button and this time he knew she said, “Well, damn it,” before sitting back and grabbing a purse she’d set on the passenger seat. She tore through the worn leather satchel, pulled out a wallet, then produced a driver’s license. “There you go,” she said, handing it to him through the window.

“The registration?”

“I can’t find it,” she said, stuffing things back into her purse.

“Keep looking,” he countered, then left to go back to the squad car. He opened the door, but stayed outside and reached in for the handset. Before he could put in the call, the radio was talking to him. He flipped a button and fell into the pattern of law enforcement in Silver Creek. No fancy codes, no “Roger” this or “Roger” that. “What’s going on?”

“Got your information,” Wes said. “Guess what? You got a hot BMW there. It’s on the sheet out of Chicago. Stolen eight days ago from one Barton Wise.”

Joshua knew criminals came in all shapes and sizes. Even with deep blue eyes. “Are you sure the numbers match?” he asked.

“Oh, they match. Checked them twice.”

“Okay,” Joshua said, raising the license the woman had given him. “Get whatever you can on one Riley Jane Shaw. She’s out of Chicago, twenty-six.”

“She?”

“Yeah, she, and she’s alone in the car. I’ll bring her in, but send Rollie out with his tow truck, one mile north of the far corner of Jack’s place.”

“Do you want backup?” Wes asked seriously.

He would have said, “Forget it,” but he’d seen it happen too often—a cop making a routine traffic stop, then being shot for his lack of caution. “Sure, come on out,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”

“You got it.”

Joshua put the handset back, then stood by the squad car, reading and rereading the license in his hand. Auburn hair, blue eyes, five feet six inches tall. He stared at her picture, at a younger version of how she looked now, with dark, fairly short hair softly feathered around her face. No anger there, no impatience. Pretty. He glanced at the BMW and could see her watching him in the rearview mirror. Pretty, and driving a stolen car.

He didn’t make a move toward the BMW until he saw the other cruiser coming down the road toward them. He noticed the woman in the car shift, looking ahead of her, watching the cruiser cut across the road and come to a stop inches from her bumper, nose to nose. She twisted around to look back at him. The heavy window tinting hid any facial expressions, but her body language screamed nervousness.

He motioned to Wes to stop as he got out of the car, and stay where he was, with the cruiser door between him and the suspect. He pushed Riley Shaw’s license into the pocket of his jacket, then unsnapped his holster lock and headed back to the BMW. The window was gliding down as he looked in and met those deep blue eyes.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Joshua didn’t miss the fact that her right hand was on the steering wheel and her left hand was out of sight.

“Hands in sight,” he said.

She quickly raised both her hands, palms toward him. “Hey, just a minute. I—”

“Please step out of the car,” he said, his right hand hovering by his holstered gun. He saw her eyes dart to the gun, then back to his face. Now she was scared and that could bring any action, from trying to run, striking out at him or collapsing into tears. He didn’t want any of that to happen. He just wanted her out of the car with her hands empty.

“Why?” she asked, not moving, her hands still in the air.

He reached for the door handle and pulled, but it was locked. “Please unlock the door, ma’am.”

“Sure, sure,” she said, hitting the automatic lock opener and it clicked.

He pulled the door open and stood back as far as he could from the woman. She squinted up at him, then stepped out into the frigid air. Her shirt looked as though it was made of thin cotton and her well-worn Levi’s showed a strategic rip at one knee. Somehow he thought the rip was accidental and not an intentional statement of fashion. She was wearing running shoes, no socks and even though her license had said she was twenty-six, she looked like a teenager.

“Step clear of the car, ma’am,” Joshua said as he let go of the door and moved back, motioning to her left.

She darted a look at the other squad car, then back at him. “Please, tell me what’s going on,” she said as she took a step toward him.

“Turn around and face the car. Place your hands on the top, palms down. This car was reported stolen from Chicago, and unless you’re Mrs. Barton Wise, you’re under arrest for suspicion of grand theft auto.”

“This is crazy!” she gasped. “I’m just driving this car for delivery to San Diego. I came around the long way. I got lost, then realized I had to cut back this way to get on the route to Las Vegas.” She spoke quickly in a breathless voice. “I’m just delivering it. It’s not stolen.”

He was willing to listen, if she could prove it. It would make his life simpler at the moment. “Okay, show me the paperwork.”

She frowned at him. “Paperwork?”

“The agreement you signed, the bond you put up, anything to prove that you have the right to be in this car.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay, sure, but I need to get it,” she said, holding her hands up, palms toward him. “I just need to get my bag.”

“Okay, slowly,” he said with a nod.

He watched her carefully as she reached inside the back of the car and pulled out a duffel bag. She held it up to him. “It’s in here,” she said.

“Okay, get it.”

She unzipped the bag, dug into it, and he found himself holding his breath until she pulled out an envelope. She opened it and held it out so he could see the contents. Inside, there was a stack of bills and a piece of paper.

“Take out the paper and put down the bag.”

She shivered as the wind gusted, but she did as she was told, pulling out the piece of paper, then dropping the duffel at her feet on the icy shoulder of the road. She held the paper out to him. “Here. This is all I have.”

He took it, glanced at Wes, then shook the paper to open it. It was mostly blank, but at the top was a San Diego phone number, the name Mindy Sullivan and a date, eight days from today. It looked as if it had been printed off of a computer. “What does this prove?”

“That’s the number I’m supposed to call when I get to San Diego. They’ll tell me where to take the car.”

“And the money in the envelope?”

“It’s the payment for my services, combined with my money that…that I put in with it.”

He didn’t realize until then how much he wanted her story to be true. But she hadn’t shown him anything that would prove it. “Sorry, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means I answered an ad in the paper to drive this car from Chicago to San Diego, and I’m doing that. Call Mindy Sullivan and ask her. Her attorney in Chicago hired me.” She looked relieved. “That’s it, the attorney. Call him. He’ll tell you this is all a big mistake.”

Wes was coming toward them now. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Joshua said “Fine” at the same time the woman said “No, it’s not.”

He ignored her statement and asked Wes, “Was there a Mindy Sullivan on the sheet for the BMW?”

“No, boss, the only name was Barton Wise.”

He looked back at Riley Shaw and realized she was close to tears. He didn’t want to deal with a hysterical female, even if she was a car thief. “You can’t do this,” she muttered.

He hesitated, something a cop should never do. “If you have anything to prove you didn’t steal this car, give it to me now. Otherwise I have no option but take you in.”

“The attorney in Chicago,” she said. “Just call him. You can check with him and find out this is a mistake.”

“I can’t do that from here, so we’ll go to the station,” he said. “Now, turn around and place both hands on the car.”

“Please, this is insane. I didn’t steal this car.”

He moved closer. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you,” he said as he looked down into her face. He could see she was shaking. Fear? She could just be cold. Her clothes were little protection against the gusting wind. “Let’s do this the easy way.”

RILEY CLOSED her eyes for a long moment to try to calm herself and shut out the sight of the man right in front of her. His clothing was heavy, but even so she could tell he was a lean man, maybe six feet tall, with roughly angled features. He was wearing reflective sunglasses, so she had no idea what his eyes were like, and a uniform cap covered most of his hair. All in all, there was no hint of softness in the man.

The hard way or the easy way? Maybe he didn’t care which way this played out. But she did. It was a mistake. A crazy mistake. A misstep on her way to San Diego. She’d call the attorney and wipe that smug look of control off the cop’s face. She looked at her own reflection in his glasses and thought she looked like a vagrant. She hadn’t dressed to impress for the trip.

“What about my money?” she asked, holding up the envelope. “It’s mine.”

“I’ll take it,” he said, and did. He put the paper back in the envelope, then shoved it into the pocket of his green uniform jacket. “I’ll give you a receipt at the station.”

“You bet you will,” she muttered.

“Miss Shaw, I’ll personally make sure you get every cent if your story checks out and we release you,” he said. “Now, turn around, hands on the car.”

Riley uttered a single word that she never used, then turned to slap both of her hands palms down on the cold top of the black car. She’d come so far, but at this moment, she felt as if she’d slipped back into a past she’d tried to bury for ten years.

She was startled when he touched her from behind, his hands on her shoulders, skimming over her, light but thorough. Down both of her arms, down her sides, to her waist, to her hips, then down and on both sides of her legs. She closed her eyes tightly, enduring the touch, praying for it to end.

Once the frisking was over, though, he snapped a handcuff on her wrist, then pulled her other hand down and back to secure it. “Okay, let’s go,” he said so close she felt the air vibrate with his words.

She turned slowly, taking time to focus, to build the anger that smoldered in her. There was no way she was going to dissolve into tears in front of a cop. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Joshua Pierce.”

“Badge number?”

“The name’s enough,” he murmured.

“Okay, but you’re going to regret this.”

He shook his head. “Adding ‘threatening a police officer in the commission of his duties’ is not going to help anything.”

She shrugged, tugging at the handcuffs. “I think it’s illegal to let a prisoner freeze to death,” she muttered.

“We don’t want that to happen.” He caught her by her upper arm and led her to his squad car. Opening the back door, he put his hand on the top of her head to ease her down and in, then waited for her to scoot over on the hard seat. She shifted, settled and stared straight ahead.

He opened his door, then called to the other cop. “Wait for Rollie to get here, then come back to the station.”

“Are you cool with this?” he asked, motioning to her in the car.

This obviously wasn’t big city if a cop used the word cool.

“Very cool,” he said to the other man, then slipped in behind the wheel.

Riley felt him study her in the rearview mirror, through the wire mesh separation in the cruiser. “What about my things?” she asked.

“They’ll be secured,” he said, then asked, “Are you comfortable?”

She looked at him, those reflective glasses driving her crazy. She hated not being able to see his eyes. “Cool,” she muttered.

She thought she saw the hint of a smile shadow his lips for a moment before he pulled out around the BMW. He waved to the other officer, then headed south. He shifted and she knew he was looking at her in the mirror again.

“Nice clean car,” she said.

That smile was almost there again. “Thanks.”

She looked around the interior. “Dated, but dead-on clean.”

“Are you a connoisseur of police cruisers?”

She’d seen a few in her life, but this was not the first time she’d been in one and she wasn’t guilty of anything. She’d done everything to never ride in a cop car again, but here she was. The last time, she’d been guilty as heck, but not this time. The last time she’d gotten into the stolen car knowing it was stolen, and gone for a joyride with three kids she’d known she shouldn’t trust. The last time she’d been arrested, she’d thought she’d be in jail for the rest of her life. And she might have been, if she hadn’t been rescued.

Riley looked at the cop who said his name was Joshua Pierce, and knew that there wouldn’t be a rescue this time. He took off his uniform cap, tossed it on the front seat, exposing thick dark hair flecked with gray at the temples, and she finally looked away and out the side window. A stone fence ran along the road then stopped at an elaborate entrance to some sort of estate or resort. They even had a guard by massive wooden gates. The guard looked up, waved, then glanced in the back seat at her. His hand stilled in the air.

“You don’t get too many criminals around here, do you?” she asked.

“Not usually,” he murmured.

“I bet you’ll get some sort of medal for arresting a hardened criminal ready to take over this town.”

He looked at her in the rearview mirror and she saw her own image reflected in his glasses. “One can only hope so,” he murmured.

“That’s a joke, Officer, like this whole thing is a joke,” she muttered. One thing she’d learned as a teenager living on the streets was to keep things like fear to yourself. Never show weakness. And when she’d rebuilt her life, the same thing applied. When she’d had her interviews at the college with prospective employers once she’d earned her degree in physical therapy, she’d made very sure she didn’t let them know how scared she was or how desperate she was for a good job.

“This isn’t a joke, Miss Shaw,” he said.

She shrugged, but caught her handcuffs on the hard plastic of the seat. She looked out at the scenery, the rock fence gone as they slipped into what looked like a typical skiing community with shops and houses, ski lifts that were crowded with skiers, and more shops and restaurants. Everything looked determinedly “cute” and postcard-perfect.

Finally they arrived at a security fence that swung open as they approached. The squad car pulled in next to the other cars in the lot and the cop exited and came around to where she sat.

He pulled open her door and the cold air cut into the car. She shivered as she ducked to get out, her movements awkward without the use of her hands. He steadied her by holding her upper arm, and once she was on her feet they headed for the building.

Within a minute they were inside and she was grateful for the warmth. She looked around at the wide central room that held several desks, lines of filing cabinets, and fronted what was probably the entry to the jail. A long, dark-wood reception desk separated the entry from the main room. This jail was anything but cute, like the town. It had worn wooden floors, wainscotting done in what looked like fake cherrywood, off-white walls adorned with Wanted posters and a huge message board.

All police stations had that dull look to them, as if hope died in them. But she wasn’t going to let that happen to her. She’d prove her innocence and be back on the road in no time.

Chapter Two

The place looked empty until Joshua let Riley go and she heard, “Hey, there.” She turned to see a cop coming out of a rear area, through a metal lockdown door. The cell area. She knew without asking. He left the heavy door open and headed across to them, speaking to Joshua as he got closer. “Wes said you’d be back,” he said. He was older, maybe in his mid-fifties or so, with a discernable paunch under his uniform and a lopsided way of walking.

“Charlie, this is Riley Shaw. Miss Shaw, this is Deputy Sloan, Acting Sheriff around here.”

Riley nodded to the man, but he spoke directly to Joshua. “Is this the GTA you called in?”

“Yes, I picked her up just past the inn, driving a stolen BMW.”

He shook his head and laughed gruffly. “Well, I’ll be. You never know, do you? Do you want to take care of the case?”

“It’s not a case,” Riley said quickly. “I’m not staying.”

Charlie looked at her and actually smiled again. “Well, miss, I think you will be, even if it’s just while we straighten out this grand theft auto business.” He came around to undo her handcuffs, then tugged the metal bracelets off of her. “We’ll get these off, then get you settled in a cell until we can sort this out.”

“No,” she said quickly, pulling her freed hands to the front and rubbing at her wrists. “No.” She was ready to dig in and make them drag her to the lock-down area.

Joshua exhaled. “The cell is temporary, just until we see if you’re going to be booked or not.”

“No, please, just…” She looked around, the idea of being locked up making her physically sick to her stomach. “Can’t I just sit in a chair? I mean, you can handcuff me to the chair or the desk. You know, one of those bars you screw to a desk? Anything. Just put the handcuffs back on and—” She held her hands out to Joshua, wrists together. “Just secure me anywhere out here.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to go by our rules while you’re here,” he said, and slipped off his sunglasses.

Damn, she’d wanted to see his eyes before, but when she met his unprotected gaze, eyes that were green with hazel flecks, she tensed horribly. Her stomach clenched so sharply that she had to press a hand to her middle. “Oh, man, I’m going to be sick,” she said in a low voice.

“Don’t start histrionics,” Joshua said as he tucked the sunglasses into his jacket pocket, then looked at Charlie. “Is a cell ready?”

“No, I mean it,” she gasped, swallowing hard to keep the nausea at bay. She was going to be sick, right here and now. “I’m sick. I…”

She was looking at Joshua, the sickness coming in waves. Suddenly the world began to spin and blur, and before she could figure out what was going on, she was falling forward. She hit something solid, then she was being held and supported, but that didn’t stop her descent into a black void.

JOSHUA HAD BARELY put his sunglasses away when he saw Riley Shaw go horribly pale, then proceed to faint dead away in his arms. At first he thought it was a ploy of some sort, but the instant she was in his arms, he knew it was for real. He gathered her deadweight, shifted to lift her in his arms and spoke to Charlie. “Get the door to the cell open.”

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked as he rushed ahead of Joshua into the lockdown area.

“She fainted,” he said, following Charlie.

“Which cell?” Charlie asked.

Joshua looked down the aisle with its row of six cells. Most were seldom used, and they were cookie-cutter copies of each other, with cots, toilets, sinks and one table each. He opted for the closest one. “Cell One,” he said, and Charlie flipped the switch on the wall to release the lock. He pulled the barred entry open and let Joshua into the eight-by-ten-foot cell.

He carried her to the stripped cot along the back wall and eased her down onto the bare mattress. She fell limply onto the cot and he hunkered down to press the tips of his fingers to the side of her throat. She looked painfully pale, but her pulse was there, light but steady.

“I’ll call the clinic and ask Doc to come over and check her out,” Charlie said, and hurried back into the main room.

When Joshua touched Riley on her cool cheek, she stirred slightly and he eased back. Dark lashes arched on her pale skin, then they fluttered and her eyes opened. They were unfocused at first, but at the same time they started to sharpen, she jerked up, almost hitting Joshua in the process. He reached for her shoulders and tried to ease her back down. “Hey, take it easy,” he said.

She was shaking, but refused to lie down. Her eyes darted around the cell. “Oh, no,” she breathed, and twisted to face him as she swiped at his hands. “What happened?”

He pulled back, but stayed hunkered down and at eye level with her. “You fainted. Just take it easy. The doctor’s coming.”

“No, no doctor. I don’t need a doctor.” She shook her head. “I just need to not be here.”

He knew the feeling, but that didn’t change facts. “Charlie wants the doctor to check you out.”

She released a breath on a shuddering hiss. “I’m okay,” she said, and twisted, pushing with her hands to get to her feet.

He moved back as she stood, but he didn’t miss the unsteadiness in her stance. “I told you to—”

Charlie was back at the door to the lockdown area. “Doc’s on his way. Says to keep an eye on her, not to leave her alone.” The buzzer from dispatch sounded on the speaker. “Stay here with her,” Charlie said briskly over his shoulder as he took off on a jog to take the call in dispatch.

Joshua turned to Riley. She was very still, her arms clutched around her chest, and she was looking right at him with startling blue eyes. “Lie down. The doctor will be here soon,” he said, automatically reaching to help her sit.

Before he could make contact, she swiped at his hand, striking him on the wrist. “Don’t. You can’t do this,” she said.

“Miss Shaw, I’m not doing this because I’m enjoying it.” He rubbed at his wrist and stopped himself before he said, “I’m just doing my duty.” He remembered hating his dad saying that when he was growing up. “I’m just trying to make this as easy for all of us as I can.”

She bit her lip and slowly sank onto the cot, but she stayed sitting up and stared at the floor. “Listen, I didn’t steal that car. I really didn’t.”

“Okay. I’ll make inquiries, and if that’s true, I’ll apologize to you and fill your gas tank on the way out of town.”

Her eyes lifted and he met her blue gaze. Why in the hell did he feel like such a heel for only doing what he’d said he’d do?

“Well, polish up on your apology and find some cheap gas,” she murmured.

The vulnerability he’d seen in her when she’d fainted and after she’d come around was gone. It was replaced by a hard look and sarcasm. “We’ll see,” was all he trusted himself to say.

Charlie was back. “Got problems at the lifts. Kids getting out of hand. Rollie got the car and Wes is on his way to the lifts. You stay and cover the calls, and take care of Doc when he gets here.” Charlie glanced at Riley, then, with a nod to her, left.

Joshua looked back at Riley. “While we wait for Doc to get here, I’ll make some phone calls to see what I can find out.”

He moved toward the cell door, but as he turned back to say one more thing to her, he stopped. She was right behind him, reminding him of a puppy dog who wouldn’t stay put and insisted on being at your heels. “Don’t leave me here,” she said, that vulnerability there for a flashing instant in her blue eyes.

“Miss Shaw, you can’t—”

She lifted her chin with determination. “But the doctor said not to leave me alone.”

He’d forgotten all about that. “You’ll be fine.”

“No, I could faint again.” She pointed at the cement floor. “If I hit that instead of having you to catch me…” She met his gaze without blinking. “I could really get hurt, and if I get hurt because you’re negligent and you’ve brought me in here wrongly, well…” She let her words trail off with the threat implied instead of stated.

Vulnerable? Not hardly. “Okay, you can come out with me until a deputy gets back or the doctor arrives.”

Without a word, she went around him, and he found himself in the ludicrous position of following the prisoner out of the lockdown area into the main squad room. She hesitated, then turned to look at him. “Where do you want to chain me?” she asked with what seemed to be complete seriousness.

He walked around her and crossed to his dad’s office near the side entry hall. “In here,” he said, letting her pass him into the work space. As he went in after her, he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door, then turned.

This had been his dad’s office for as long as he could remember. It had seemed dark and threatening to him when he’d been a kid, but now it looked tired and mellow. There were worn leather chairs, a wooden desk scarred from thirty years of wear, and filing cabinets that he hadn’t even looked in since filling in at the station. The bottom half of the wall that it shared with the main room was dark wood; the upper part was glass, lined with plain old horizontal blinds. His dad had always kept them open. They were still open.

“You can sit there,” he said, motioning to one of two straight-backed wooden chairs that faced the desk.

She took a seat, then looked up at him and said, “Go ahead. Do your duty.”

She was serious, but he couldn’t be. He found himself smiling at her. “Please, just sit there and be still.” He moved around the desk to drop into the leather swivel chair, and turned to Riley.

“No chains or handcuffs?” she asked.

“No whips and torture, either, if you’ll just promise me you’ll stay put until the doctor gets here.”

“I will, if you promise me you’ll call Chicago and find out the truth.”

He was more than ready to do that. He reached for a notepad and pen. “Okay. First, why don’t you give me the name and number of the attorney who supposedly hired you to drive the car?”

She frowned intently as she sat forward on the wooden seat and pressed the palms of her hands against the edge of his desk. “It begins with an N. Nil-land. No.” She closed her eyes tightly and whispered, “Think, think, think.” Then she said, “Nyland.” Her eyes opened. “Alvin Nyland.”

He had his pen ready. “What’s his number?”

She shrugged and he could see her fingers pressing hard against the wooden top of the desk. “I don’t know. I didn’t think to bring it. But surely he’d be listed. He’s got a huge office in Chicago, takes up a lot of floors in this towering building by the lake, and there are four or five partners in the firm’s name. You know, one of those big, overblown, fancy, money-making law firms?”

Yes, he knew very well what she meant. “Okay, what are the names in the big, overblown, fancy, money-making law firm?”

“I don’t remember, but it sure sounded important and his name’s part of it. Not at the top, but second or third, I think.” She let go of the desk and motioned to the phone. “Just call and give his name to Information. They should have a listing for him. Alvin Nyland,” she repeated, and slowly spelled out the last name letter by letter.

He lifted the receiver and put in a call to Information for Chicago and asked for Alvin Nyland, Attorney. They came up with the number right away, and he hit the button to dial it through, then heard a voice on the other end. “Good afternoon. Wallace, Levin, Geisler, Nyland and Yen. How may I direct your call?”

“Alvin Nyland, please.”

There was a click, soft music, then another voice picked up. “Mr. Nyland’s office.”

“Mr. Nyland, please.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nyland isn’t available. May I take a message?”

He knew well enough that not being available could mean anything from being in the restroom to being dead. “I need to speak with him. It’s important.”

Riley was sitting forward now, her elbows on the desk, and he didn’t miss the way she crossed her fingers, much the way an earnest child would. “Is he there?” she asked in a tense whisper.

He shook his head as the woman on the other end of the line said, “I’m sorry, sir, he’s out of the office.”

“Where is he?” he asked.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Deputy Joshua Pierce from the Silver Creek Police Department in Silver Creek, Nevada. I need to speak to Mr. Nyland about an important matter.”

“Well, I’m so sorry, that’s not possible. He’s on vacation and out of touch.”

“Where?”

She hesitated, then said, “Florida.”

Joshua exhaled. “Okay, maybe you can help me.”

“Any way I can,” she said quickly.

“I need to have some verification about an arrangement he made for a car delivery.”

“A car delivery?” she asked.

“To San Diego. A new BMW sedan.” He watched Riley as he explained the situation. “I need his verification that Miss Shaw is supposed to have it in her possession, and an explanation about the car being reported stolen.”

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mr. Nyland is an investment attorney, and he certainly wouldn’t be involved in car transfers.”

“Do you know the name Riley Shaw?”

“No, sir. I don’t.”

“When will Mr. Nyland be back?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry. He just said next week sometime.”

Before Joshua hung up, he asked, “Does he have clients named Mindy Sullivan or Barton Wise?”

“Sir, I can’t tell you about his clients. That’s privileged information.”

“All I need is a yes or no, nothing else. If I have to, I’ll get the Chicago police up to your office with the proper legal papers. If you’ll just tell me yes or no, we’ll drop it.”

“Well, just a minute,” she said, and the music came back on the line.

Riley was nibbling nervously on her bottom lip and he had the idea while the secretary was searching her database, that Riley Shaw was either a great liar or a true innocent. As a cop, he prided himself on being able to read people, but this woman was hard to peg.

“Deputy?” the receptionist asked, interrupting Joshua’s thoughts.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“All I can say is, I have never personally heard of Mindy Sullivan or Barton Wise.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, then gave her his number. “If Mr. Nyland calls in for anything, could you ask him to contact me immediately?”

“Yes, sir, of course,” she said.

He thanked her and hung up, all the while watching Riley sink back in her chair. “Nothing,” he said, and she glared at him as if he’d failed in the most miserable way possible. He explained, “He’s on vacation in Florida and out of touch, and his receptionist doesn’t remember Sullivan or Wise.”

Riley felt as if she had fallen into some black hole. “I swear, he’s the one who gave me the money and the directions and said to take the car to San Diego.”

“Where in San Diego?”

“I’m supposed to call Mindy Sullivan when I get to the city, and she’ll tell me where to deliver it.” Her stomach was hurting again and she wrapped her arms around it. “I can’t believe this,” she breathed, rocking front to back slowly.

He looked worried again and she knew she must look horrible. “Miss Shaw—”

“Riley. My name’s Riley.”

Before she could tell him to call Mindy Sullivan, a buzzer sounded and Joshua was up and heading out of his office. “Hey, Gordie,” he said. “We’re in here.”

Riley stared at the worn wooden top of the desk until she heard another voice right behind her. “Okay, so what’s going on?” a man’s deep voice asked.

She twisted around to see a tall man bundled up in a suede jacket with a heavy fur collar, a matching fur hat pulled low on his head. He was gripping a stereotypical black bag in one hand; with the other, he skimmed off his fur hat. He was pleasant-looking, maybe in his late thirties, with irregular features and an aura of kindness. Riley hardly ever thought that about anyone she met.

“Gordie, the prisoner fainted,” Joshua said, coming to the other side of Riley’s chair.

The doctor had sharp blue eyes and an easy smile as he studied her. “I’m Dr. Gordon.” He flicked a glance at Joshua. “Although some persist in calling me Gordie.” He crouched so that he and Riley were eye-to-eye. “So tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. I just fainted. I’ve never fainted before,” she said. “I’ve never even come close.”

“No. I mean, why did they arrest you?”

She blinked at him, wondering if he was joking. But he seemed serious as he took some things out of his bag and started examining her while she answered. “They say I stole a car.”

He reached for her wrist, pressed his fingertips to her pulse and studied a watch on his other wrist. “So you’re a car thief, huh?”

“No, I’m not.”

He chuckled and glanced at Joshua. “They’re all innocent, aren’t they?”

She looked up at her arresting officer, who was watching the two of them. She could take the doctor joking, but she couldn’t take the smile on Joshua’s face. “This isn’t a joke,” she muttered.

Joshua sobered, but it was the doctor who spoke up. “Well, if you take life too seriously, you’re doomed.”

She stared at him. “I just want to know why I fainted.”

As he got out a stethoscope, he explained, “I don’t have a clue yet. Headache?”

“No.”

“Nauseous?”

“A bit.”

“You’re not diabetic?”

“No.”

“Pregnant?”

She could feel the fire in her cheeks. “No.”

He pressed the cool stethoscope to her chest where her shirt was open. “Drugs?”

“No,” she muttered tightly. “Never.”

“Okay, when’s the last time you ate?” he asked, frowning as he listened to her heart.

“A few hours ago, maybe three or four.”

“What did you eat?”

She shrugged. “I don’t remember. Oh, a corn dog, some nachos, a soda and some candy bars.”

“You’re lucky to be breathing after eating that,” he murmured as he put the stethoscope back in his bag.

“It was either that or sausage on a stick and jelly beans.”

He smiled. “The lesser of two evils?” He took out a blood pressure cuff, tugged up her sleeve, then fastened the cuff on her upper arm.

“Definitely,” she said.

“Just relax,” he said as he pumped up the cuff. “Think of sunny beaches and lazy days under a palm tree.” He slowly deflated the cuff, listened, then finally undid it. “Good blood pressure.”

With all the stress she’d had since the squad car flicked on its flashing lights and siren, she figured having a normal blood pressure was a near miracle. He took her temperature with a digital thermometer, then placed it back in his bag with the other equipment.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked.

He stood and looked down at her. “Besides a horrendous diet, my guess is you fainted.”

“Well, that’s a no-brainer,” she muttered.

“Sorry,” he said with a smile. “I’ve been taking care of too many skiers who forget to get out of the way of a tree, then expect me to say they were tricked by the damn tree. It couldn’t be they’re terrible skiers.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t find a thing wrong with you, except your diet. What was happening when you fainted?”

She nodded toward Joshua as she tugged her sleeve down. “He was going to put me in a cell.”

The doctor considered her words, then looked at Joshua. “You were locking her up?”

“She was driving a stolen car.”

“I was not,” she said quickly. “It’s not stolen.”

The doctor looked back at Riley. “Ah, therein lies the rub.”

A doctor who quoted Shakespeare? “Rub or no rub, I didn’t steal it,” she said tightly. “And he’d know that if he ever got around to doing his job and finished checking things out.” She exhaled. “I think it’s a violation of my rights to hold me and do next to nothing to find out the truth. Someone needs to teach him how to play cop.”

“He’s not playing, and he’s not just a cop. Back in his real life, he is…well, was, the head crime-buster in Atlanta.” He snapped his bag closed and picked it up. “Big office, maybe a big career in politics. Big man.”

She looked at Joshua. “Atlanta?” He just nodded. “How did you end up here?” she asked.

“All roads lead to Silver Creek,” the doctor said.

Hers sure had. “Too bad,” she murmured.

“Oh, Silver Creek’s a nice place, Miss Shaw,” the doctor said. “And my theory is, if you’re born here, you end up here. It’s that simple.”

She looked at Joshua again, but he spoke to Gordie. “That’s enough, Gordie. Thanks for coming.”

“Just make sure she eats something decent, something bland, and have her checked on periodically.” He looked at her with a shake of his head. “Sure hate to see a pretty thing like you in a dump like this.”

“Me, too,” she said.

He pulled his hat back on, reached for his bag, then spoke to Joshua. “I’m on my way to set another leg.” With that, he left.

Riley wished she could follow him, head out the door, close it behind her and keep going, all the way to San Diego. But she was left behind sitting at a desk, trying to figure a way out of the nightmare that had become her life in the past hour or so.

Joshua stood over her and she finally realized he was staring at her. “What?”

“I was going to ask how you’re feeling,” he said as he went around the desk to take his seat again.

“I’d feel better if you were as efficient as the doctor.”

That brought out a bark of laughter. “Gordie? Oh, he talks a good game. He always has.”

“At least he can see how stupid this all is,” she muttered, then added, “Now, are you going to contact Chicago Police or not? They can get this all cleared up.”

“Chicago,” he said as he reached for a thick book on the desk, flipped it open, then reached for the phone. He punched in a number and introduced himself to whoever picked up on the other end. Reading off the information about the car, Joshua ended with, “I need to speak with whoever’s in charge of the investigation.” He listened for a moment, then said, “Sure, put me through.”

While Joshua spoke and took notes, Riley sat there wishing this was all just a dream. But once he’d hung up and addressed her again, Riley knew this was a nightmare come to life.

She was beginning to feel horribly sick again, and couldn’t think straight. She just lunged for the phone, and the next thing she knew, she had grabbed his hand so tightly hers was aching.

Chapter Three

Joshua was startled by Riley’s actions, and his hand froze, her hand over his, holding on to it so tightly it was almost painful. Their eyes met, and he saw her shock at her own actions in the deep blue. Slowly, she let go of him, sinking back and down into the chair.

He let go of the phone and said, “The car’s been stolen. Detective Gagne will contact the owner for verification.”

“When?”

“As soon as he can and he’ll call back when he does.”

“Meanwhile?”

“I’m to hold you here.”

What little color she had left drained from her face and for a moment he thought she was going to faint again. But she took a shaky breath, then said, “Okay, I understand how this looks. I really do. But you’re making a huge mistake.”

He tented his fingers to look at her over them. A novice criminal? A first-time job? A truly bad car thief? An innocent woman? He wished he knew. “Is there anyone who can back up your story? Your employer? Family? Friends? Someone who knew all about this?”

She stared at him, then finally shook her head. “No. My employer is still my future employer and I’ll lose the job before I even get it if a cop calls about me stealing a car. I don’t have any family, and I didn’t really tell anyone about this car-delivery thing.”

“Alvin Nyland isn’t available,” he said, trying to figure out how a person like Riley Shaw ended up totally alone in this world.

“If he is my Alvin Nyland,” she murmured.

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been thinking. What if he’s a fraud? He didn’t give me any papers. He checked on me, and I didn’t check on him. We met in the evening at his office, and no one else was there. He gave me the paper and directions.” Her color seemed almost normal now, but he didn’t like the way she hugged her arms around her middle and hunched forward. When she spoke again, she was almost speaking to herself. “What if it’s all a lie, a setup? What if I got roped into being part of some car-theft ring? What if they get people like me to drive stolen cars to a destination, and if they get there, fine, and if not, the criminals would never be involved?” She looked up at him. “That happens, doesn’t it?”

Joshua couldn’t figure out why he had the impulse to make things better for her, or why, when he heard her take a shuddering breath, he hated what he was doing. “It could,” he conceded as he pushed the phone toward her. “You still have your one call.”

She stared at the phone as if she didn’t know what to do with it, then suddenly reached for it. “Where’s that paper I gave you with Mindy Sullivan’s phone number on it?” she asked.

He retrieved it from his jacket and handed it to her.

Watching as Riley made the call, Joshua noticed her face tug into a frown as she hit the disconnect button. Very carefully, she redialed the number and listened. She put the receiver back in the cradle so hard that plastic cracked against plastic and she hugged her arms around her middle again.

“No answer?” he asked.

She shook her head. “The…the number isn’t working,” she whispered.

Before he could respond, Riley stood and faced him. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she mumbled, then put a hand over her mouth.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded without saying anything and Joshua wasn’t taking any chances this time. He had her by the arm, leading her out of the office and to the women’s restroom. Riley pulled free of him and hurried ahead, but instead of going into a stall, she went to the nearest sink and grabbed the sides of the white enamel, her head forward, swallowing hard.

“If you’re going to be sick, use—”

“I’m okay,” she whispered. She splashed cold water on her face, dampening the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail and dripping down on to her shirt, darkening the cotton. She took several deep breaths, then reached for paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and pressed them to her face.

If it hadn’t been bad enough to have had a woman faint dead away in his arms, now the same woman was close to being sick. He could see each breath she took, the way she shuddered on a final sigh as she pulled the towels down and crushed them into a ball in her hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked, feeling ridiculous standing there.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she dropped the towels in the wastebasket, then held her hands under the cold water, just letting it wash over her skin.

He saw her reflection in the distorted mirror over the sink. Bright color dotted both cheeks and dark smudges shadowed her eyes. She finally turned off the water, dried her hands on more towels, tossed those towels away and turned to him. He didn’t miss how she still held to the sink with her right hand.

“Do you need me to call Gordie?” he asked.

“No, he can’t help me.” She turned back to her reflection in the mirror and brushed at her hair. He didn’t miss the unsteadiness in her hand. Damn it, he didn’t want to feel protective, but he did. She met his gaze in the mottled mirror. “Do you usually escort female prisoners into the bathroom?”

That errant feeling of protectiveness fled, replaced by annoyance. “The only reason I brought you in here was that the cells were farther away and I thought—” He cut off his own words, impatient with himself for feeling the need to explain his actions to her. “Next time, I’ll take you to your cell. There’s a toilet and sink there.”

The color in her cheeks deepened. “Oh, joy. All the comforts of home,” she muttered.

It was a good thing he was only doing this job as a fill-in for his dad. He’d been a cop most of his adult life, but didn’t want to be doing it now, and especially not with her. “You know, it might be better if you just told me what’s going on, and maybe we can work something out.”

“Are you offering me a deal?” she asked, continuing to grip the edge of the sink. She turned to him.

“The acting sheriff would have to do that. But, if you tell me the truth, maybe I can talk to the higher-ups and work something out for you.”

“I bare my soul and you give me a break?” She regarded him without blinking. “Your acting sheriff will cut me a deal?”

“If you tell me everything, we can go from there.”

She exhaled harshly, with obvious exasperation. “I’ve told you everything, so where do we go from here?”

He shrugged. “I hold you until Chicago gets back to me on what they want done.”

“When will they get back to you?”

“No idea.”

“Meanwhile, you just hold me here? What about booking me and my arraignment? Isn’t it a fact you have seventy-two hours to arraign me after booking? There isn’t an open-ended time limit, is there?”

Damn it, she wasn’t a novice at this. She knew her stuff.

“If I book you now, yeah, it’s seventy-two hours.”

“What do you mean, if you book me now?”

“I can book you, get it going, then it’s on the record. And we’ll have to arraign you on the evidence we have now.”

“Do I hear an ‘or’ in that statement?”

He wasn’t at all sure he could make this work, but he threw out a tentative deal that he knew would be a hard sell to Charlie. His dad would have gone for it, hands down, but Charlie was tougher, a more letter-of-the-law type cop. But he was also reasonable. “If I can talk the acting sheriff into it, maybe we can hold off on the booking, just detain you for a day or so, and if it comes up that you’re telling the truth, then this never happened. If we book you, and in two days we find out you’re telling the truth, then we’ve got a bit of a mess on our hands. It’ll show you were picked up and booked and—”

“A day or two?” she asked.

“Chicago should have something by tomorrow, the next day at the latest. Then we can do what’s necessary.”

She was silent for a long moment, staring at the floor, then she met his gaze. “None of this will go on my record if what I’ve told you is the truth?”

He dug himself further into the offer. “None of it.”

“And the acting sheriff will agree?”

He shrugged. “I’ll talk to him, lay it out for him, but it will have to be his decision.”

“But you think he’ll agree?”

“There’s a good chance he will.”

She stood straighter. “Okay, I’ll wait. I’ll let you detain me until Chicago straightens this out.”

Joshua didn’t know if he was relieved or being a real fool. He just hoped Charlie would go for the delayed booking. “Okay, let’s get you settled.”

“Can I wait in your office until you find out if he’ll wait on the booking?” she asked.

“First of all, it’s not my office, I’m just using it for now, and second, I don’t know when I can run it past Charlie, and since you’re being detained, that means you’re being held, and that means, you’re being held in a cell.”

He saw that urge in her to argue, to fight him, but she finally said, “Let’s get this over with,” and went around him to the door. Once again he was the one following as she walked out into the squad room. From behind, he noticed her slender hips in the faded denim, the movement of her body as she walked determinedly toward the lockdown security door as if going there had been her decision all along.

He heard someone talking near the front entrance, but didn’t take his eyes off Riley. They went into the cell area and she stopped abruptly. Quick sidestepping kept him from running into her back. “Which cell?” she asked.

He motioned to the one he’d carried her into earlier. The door was still open. “That one’s fine.” He could see her hesitate, then take a deep breath, as if preparing to plunge into deep water, then she went inside. She turned just inside the door and he didn’t go in after her.

He looked at her, framed by the metal frame and the bars on either side. He’d seen enough prisoners walk into a cell, and he thought he was immune to any response beyond the required caution with any alleged criminal. But as he looked at Riley Shaw, he realized the picture didn’t add up. Something was amiss, but he wasn’t about to stand here and figure it out. He’d let Charlie deal with her. “How about some food?”

She looked from side to side, then went to the cot on the back wall, sat on the edge and looked out at him. “What kind of meal do you have for the condemned?”

Her sarcasm wasn’t disguised, but he chose not to respond in kind. Instead he reached for the cell door, slid it shut with a clang of metal against metal and saw her flinch. “How about sandwich and soup?”

She pressed her hands to her knees and shrugged. “Whatever.”

She’d get whatever he could manage. He turned to lock the door at the security panel on the opposite wall, but stopped when she spoke again. “Can you leave the door open?”

He looked back at her. “The cells have to be locked so—”

“No, that door,” she said, pointing to the lockdown area’s metal security door. “Can you just leave that one open for now? Just in case I faint again or something?”

He seemed to be making up the rules as he went along, so he just nodded, hit the lock button and the cell door clicked. Back in his dad’s office, Joshua sat at the desk and realized, for the first time, the desk was positioned to view the security door. Riley was pacing in the cell, back and forth, going out of sight, coming back into sight, then going out of sight again.

He grabbed the phone receiver, put in a call to Rusty’s Diner and swivelled his chair so it faced the window that overlooked the security yard. Following Gordie’s instructions, he ordered a turkey sandwich and soup from the small diner a couple of blocks north of the station, and was told the order would be delivered as soon as they found someone to bring it over to him.

Once he’d hung up, Joshua let his eyes skim over the office. It almost felt like home, with a comfortable sameness to it that had settled over the years. He’d thought filling in for his dad would be a snap. Just do what Charlie needed, give him a break now and then. But in an odd way this place had been his lifeline once he came back.

Now it felt uncomfortable, as if something was hanging over his head, a certain discomfort that he couldn’t label. Maybe an uneasiness. He didn’t know why. His little girl J.J. was fine, back at the ranch with his dad and his stepmother. Joshua didn’t have to be anywhere he didn’t want to be. He could walk out of here right now and that would be that. But on a gut level, he wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to do this. He was here for the duration, in a ski town whose bitter cold was a far cry from Atlanta, facing the coming holidays with no anticipation beyond getting through them and to the other side, into a new year.

He sat forward, looked down at the papers on the desk and read the top one about a stolen BMW out of Chicago. Handwritten in the margin was “Riley Shaw,” along with a notation with the detective’s name in Chicago and some other notes. He glanced up and was relieved she wasn’t at the cell door any longer.

The radio signaled an incoming call and he hit Receive on the box on his desk. It was Charlie calling in. The incident at the lifts was under control and he was taking Wes with him on rounds, then he’d be back. Joshua would be here for another two hours at least.

He stared at the papers on his desk. Just talking to the detective from Chicago had let him know the case wasn’t a priority in any sense of the word. If it took a day or two or even three, they wouldn’t sweat it. But if Charlie agreed to hold off on booking, he wouldn’t do it more than a day. Two, tops. Joshua had an idea and reached for the phone. He put in a call to Harvey Sills, a cop who’d worked vice in a Chicago suburb for ten years and someone he’d dealt with on a case four years ago.

News was Harvey had taken early retirement after being wounded, but had stayed in the business as a private investigator. He didn’t have any trouble getting a number and putting in a call to Harvey. It rang four times, then went to voice mail.

“Harvey. Joshua Pierce, here,” he said after the beep. “I know it’s been a while, but I’m back in Silver Creek, filling in for my dad for a while. I’m working a case out of the Chicago area and I need some help. I was thinking you might be able to expedite it for me. If you could call me when you get a chance, I’d appreciate it.” He left his cell number and the office number, then hung up.

Harvey had contacts and he was right there in the city. If anyone could get answers, he could. The buzzer sounded when the entry door to the station opened, and Joshua got up at the same time someone called from the squad room. “Hey, where is everyone?”

Spotting Annie Logan just rounding the reception desk, Joshua got up and headed out. Annie was the owner of the Silver Creek Hotel, and apparently the delivery service for Rusty’s Diner at the moment. She was holding an orange take-out bag in one hand and pushing off her fur-lined hood with the other. She smiled when she saw him. “There you are.” She beamed.

He crossed to meet her halfway and realized Annie hadn’t changed since they were kids. She’d been plain then, and still was, but somewhere along the way she’d developed a certain attractiveness. She’d always smiled, been happy and full of life. Married and happy, she worked at the hotel she owned with her husband, Rick.

She was grinning at him, her face flushed from the cold. “Boy it seems like old times seeing you in this place.” She handed him the bag. “Too bad your dad’s not here, too. How’s he doing?”

“He’s staying out of trouble, getting better,” he said.

“Who’ve you got in there?” she asked, looking around him at the open security door. “I heard you were babysitting a prisoner. Who is it, that Jenner kid? Or some drunk who thought they could ski down Main Street and use the cars as slalom markers?”

“Just a common car thief,” he said, realizing how wrong that was as soon as he said it. There was nothing “common” about Riley Shaw.

“Oh, big-time law stuff, huh?” She grinned.

“Yeah,” he said. “How much do I owe you?”

“Rusty said he’d put it on the tab. You know, if this is the way you do things, you should forget about going back to Atlanta and run for sheriff here when your dad’s term is up. Making big arrests and all. You could give Charlie a run for his money.”

That wasn’t even in his thought process. He knew he’d go back to Atlanta, but he wasn’t sure what he’d do there. He wasn’t at all sure he’d go back to law enforcement. He had options and he was still weighing them. “Who in their right mind would go up against Charlie? I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Annie patted his arm and said with mock seriousness, “Humility is a good thing, Joshua. A very good thing.”

RILEY COULD HEAR Joshua talking to a woman who sounded so happy and cheerful that it was almost painful to listen to. “Did you hear it’s going to snow tonight?” the woman asked. “Who would have thought we were all wailing about having no snow not too long ago?” She laughed for some reason, then asked, “How’s J.J. doing?”

J.J.? His wife? Riley had seen a wedding ring on his finger.

“She’s doing great,” he said.

“You give her a big hug for me, you hear?”

“Absolutely.”

Her voice was getting farther away as she spoke. “Say hi to your folks?”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good to have you back, Josh. See you soon.” A door opened, then closed and there was silence.

Riley pulled the blankets off the cot, threw them into the left front corner of the cell onto the floor, then crossed over and sank onto them. She could see out the security door from here and right into the office she’d been in earlier. If she stayed on the cot, all she could see was empty desks. She sat back, resting against the bars, and looked around the cell. Dull walls, cement flooring, the spindly cot with its thin mattress, the stark toilet and a sink stuck in the wall. Someone had brought in a corrugated screen that was about four feet high and three feet wide, made of what looked like cardboard. It was supposed to be for some privacy in the toilet area, but all it did was add more ugliness to the space. Even the single window looked stark.

She closed her eyes to shut out her surroundings and pulled up her knees to press her forehead against them. Joshua and that Annie person sounded like friends; old, comfortable friends. They teased a bit, talked about family. And for a moment, she ached with the sense that she didn’t have that. She never had. Friends. Family. She closed her eyes so tightly colors exploded behind them. She didn’t know much about those things.

“What in the hell?”

Her head jerked up at the sound of Joshua’s sharp exclamation and she twisted around to see him inside the lockdown area on the other side of the bars to her cell, staring at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.

He was holding a bright orange bag in one hand, his face set in a dark frown. “I didn’t see you there,” he said.

She sank back on the blankets and watched him as he crossed to the security panel. He punched in the code and the cell door clicked. He turned, reaching for the cell door and sliding it back. “Oh, I get it. You thought I’d made a break for it, didn’t you?”

He didn’t look at her as he crossed to the small table by the cot. “I don’t know what I thought,” he said as he reached into the bag and took out a foam carton and a small covered cup.

“Whatever,” she murmured as he turned and crossed to where she was sitting.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” he asked. “Were you dizzy again or sick or something?”

She had to crane her neck a bit to look up at him. “Just thinking,” she said.

“The bed’s not too uncomfortable, and I can bring in a chair if you need a place to sit, a place to think.”

She shrugged, then brushed at the denim on her legs. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

He shook his head, as if he questioned her sanity. “Well, there’s hot soup and a sandwich over there when you want it.”

She was silent.

He frowned at her. “You know, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. And personally, I prefer the easy way.”

“Easy for you,” she said, and got quickly to her feet.

Her movement caught him off guard and she accidentally bumped into his shoulder, rocking her backward. He caught her just before she would have struck the bars, and held her with both hands, gripping her shoulders. For a moment they were inches from each other and she could see a flare of gold in his hazel eyes. “Steady?” he asked.

She hadn’t felt steady since she’d first heard the siren and seen the flashing lights. “Sure,” she lied. “I’m steady.”

He hesitated, then let her go, but didn’t move back to give her any space. “Let’s make this as easy on both of us as we can, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” she said on a sigh. “Coffee sounds lovely if it’s convenient for you and you don’t have to go out of your way to get it.”

“I’ll get it,” he said, and for a moment she thought he was going to smile. There was something in his eyes, maybe a shadow of humor at his lips. She wasn’t sure. “Coffee it is.” He crossed to the cell door, then turned back to her. “Cream and sugar?”

“No, thank you very much.”

This time he did smile, a quick, quirky expression that took years off his features before it was gone. And he was gone, leaving the cell door standing open. She thought of her crack about making a break for it, and if she’d had any place to go, she might have considered it. But she didn’t have anywhere to go.

So she checked on the food—a turkey sandwich on some wheat bread and a small cup with a lid. She opened the cup, found some sort of fragrant vegetable soup, then took it back with her to the corner of the cell and dropped down onto the floor. She sat cross-legged and hardly noticed when Joshua returned.

She didn’t look up, but stared at the soup and listened to him cross to the cot. When he came over to her, she glanced at his boots, at the scuffs and obvious wear. They certainly weren’t your regulation-issue cop shoes, that was for sure. He cleared his throat and said, “Coffee’s on the table.”

She expected him to leave, but he didn’t. Instead he crouched in front of her. “The easy way is for you to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

She sighed heavily. “I told you what happened. That’s it.”

He was silent for a long, nerve-racking moment, then said, “I know what you said, now how about the truth?”

Chapter Four

This time Riley didn’t bother to control her reaction. She rolled her eyes and sighed with heavy emphasis. “Oh, is this your bad-cop routine? Getting coffee and food was a good-cop routine?” She could see the anger in him now and she didn’t care. “I think I should tell you that it really works better with two people to act it out.”

“Very funny,” he muttered, but didn’t leave.

She’d wanted him to stay, just to have someone else here, but now she wanted him gone. “Tell you what, why don’t you go and play some childish game like ding-dong-ditch and leave me alone?”

He still didn’t leave. “Listen to me, all I’m trying to do is find out the truth.”

“I told you the truth. And the more I think about it, I think I was set up, that I’m the pawn in some huge stolen car ring and you’ve got the wrong person.” She really expected him to either go or to laugh in her face, because she knew she was doing a huge what-if that was even hard for her to buy. “Oh, just forget it,” she said, looking back down at the soup that was getting cold.

He still didn’t leave. Instead he said, “Not so fast. Stranger things have happened. Being a cop, you see all sorts of weird things.”

Her eyes shot back to his. “What?”

He shrugged. “I’m willing to consider anything.”

Riley didn’t let herself hope for much in her life, she never had, but in that moment she felt the nudging of what she suspected was hope. “And?” she asked.

“I think it’s worth looking into.”

Riley felt a flutter of hope. He believed her? “You think so? They set me up? Here I’ve got the car, and if I get stopped, I’m arrested, and if I’m not stopped, they get their car and no one’s the wiser?”

“It’s happened before,” he murmured.

She couldn’t read his expression and she desperately wanted to. No, she wanted affirmation that he was starting to take her seriously. “It all makes some weird sense, you know. Maybe that’s what happened, or maybe it’s just a big misunderstanding. Some weird confusion. Could there be some confusion about the car being stolen, being on the list by mistake?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s a fact.”

“But you believe me that I didn’t steal the car?”

She literally held her breath and the flicker of hope was gone when he shook his head. “No. I told you, I’m willing to consider options. All I know for sure is, the car’s stolen and you were driving it.”

She sank back against the bars, horrified that it had meant so much to have this man believe even part of what she’d told him. “The facts, ma’am, just the facts.”

“That’s about it.

“If a friend of yours was caught like I was, and they told you it was all a mix-up, a mistake or some sort of nefarious plot, would you believe him?”

“That isn’t the point,” he said with unerring logic. But it was for her. He’d believe a friend anytime. Not a stranger. “People let you see what they want you to see.”

“Sometimes it has to be the truth.”

“In this job, it’s usually not.”

That drew the lines completely. He was the cop, she was the crook. “Your job stinks.”

He didn’t take offense. “More times than not,” he said as he stood.

She crooked her neck to look up at him, her soup all but forgotten. “Then why do you do it?”

He flexed his shoulders, as if to ease his muscles, and didn’t answer her for a moment. At first she thought he was just going to ignore her, then she realized he was thinking. “Good question,” was all he said. He looked down at the cup of soup in her hands. “Anything else you need?”

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