Love’s Duty

As assistant police chief, Heath Monroe never expected he’d ever need rescuing. But that’s exactly what Cassie Blackwell does when she pulls him out of a car wreckage. He’s surprised at the beautiful widow’s strength and joyous spirit. But he’s been burned before and is cautious to get involved. Especially since his investigation into the town’s drug operation might implicate Cassie’s ex-husband! Yet the more time he spends with her, the deeper he falls. Will he have to choose between duty and his growing love—or is there a way he can have both?

Whisper Falls: Where every prayer is answered…

Cassie didn’t know what had come over her but being in Heath’s embrace was amazing.

She was a little embarrassed by her behavior, but by the time she’d regained her wits and backed away, word came that the newborn was in the nursery. She dragged Heath out of the waiting room and rushed down the hall to the wide glass panes. She’d worry about the hug later.

A row of tiny swaddled babies lined the nursery. “Oh, my goodness.” Cassie pressed closer to the pane, snapping photos with her cell phone. “He’s beautiful. Look at him, Heath. He’s wonderful. So tiny and tough and precious.”

“Your brother is a blessed man.”

“Blessed,” Cassie murmured, thinking Heath used exactly the right word. With uncharacteristic neediness, she battled the urge to lean her head on the lawman’s sturdy, dependable shoulder.

Something powerful turned over in her chest.

LINDA GOODNIGHT

Winner of a RITA® Award for excellence in inspirational fiction, Linda Goodnight has also won a Booksellers’ Best Award, an ACFW Book of the Year award and a Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews. Linda has appeared on the Christian bestseller list and her romance novels have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. She and her husband live in Oklahoma. Visit her website at www.lindagoodnight.com. To browse a current listing of Linda Goodnight’s titles, please visit www.Harlequin.com.

The Lawman’s Honor

Linda Goodnight

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Immediately Jesus made His disciples get into the boat and go before Him to the other side, while He sent the multitudes away. And when He had sent the multitudes away, He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray. Now when evening came, He was alone there. But the boat was now in the middle of the sea, tossed by the waves, for the wind was contrary…. And they cried out for fear.

But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying,

“Be of good cheer! It is I; do not be afraid.”

—Matthew 14:22–27

The entire Whisper Falls series is dedicated

to the memory of my brother, Stan Case.

Contents

Epigraph

Prologue

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

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Rumor says that if a prayer is murmured beneath

Whisper Falls, God will hear and answer. Some folks think it’s superstitious nonsense. Some think it’s a clever ploy to attract tourists. Others believe that God works in mysterious ways, and prayers, no matter where

whispered, are always heard.

Prologue

She was probably crazy for doing this. As a local, she should know better. Climbing Whisper Falls to pray was a rumor, a myth, a publicity stunt. But for reasons she couldn’t explain or deny, Cassie Blackwell felt the need to do it anyway. Her sister-in-law had prayed here and look how well that had turned out.

Sticking one boot against the wall of slippery rocks, Cassie started the ascent. Whisper Falls sprayed water against the side of her face as it tumbled to the pool below. Spring was here and with it the Blackberry River rushing wildly to embrace the sea like a long lost love.

Feeling self-conscious, Cassie glanced below—and promptly wished she hadn’t. Her stomach rose into her throat, shortening her breath. The top was a long way from the bottom, the roar of the falls a deafening threat to safety.

With a firm admonishment not to look down again, she turned her gaze to the cliff top. No one else was here in the remote wooded area. Thank goodness. No one would ever know the ridiculous thing she’d done. Clinging now to the dampness, digging in with her fingers and toes, she clambered up and, with heart banging against her rib cage, Cassie catapulted onto the narrow ledge behind the cascade of magnificent white foam.

The inner sanctum behind the falls was stunningly quiet. She took a minute to catch her breath and soak up the atmosphere. It was beautiful, peaceful and private as though the world below was another universe.

“Will Heaven be like this, Lord?” she asked, awed, for she knew in that moment what others before her had discovered. God was here. Oh, sure, she believed He was everywhere, but something about this place seemed spiritual.

So she lifted her face to the astounding sight above her and prayed.

“Father God, it’s me, Cassie. Since the funeral, I’ve been numb, like I’m frozen inside. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make the emptiness go away. I want to feel again.”

There was a certain fear in admitting such a thing. It was as if she was throwing away what she and Darrell had shared. But she would never do that. And yet, she wanted something. No, she needed something. The problem? She didn’t know what that something was. But with all her heart, she prayed that God would know and answer.

Chapter One

The rain had started a few miles back. On a moonless black night on an unfamiliar rural road, a man could easily get lost. Heath Monroe had a feeling he might have done exactly that.

He cast a cautious eye at the sky, at jagged streaks of lightning in approaching clouds. This section of the Ozarks was in for a storm. Hopefully, he could find the little town of Whisper Falls before the worst of it struck.

Heath was weary from the long drive, and his GPS had long ago stopped telling the truth. When he’d pulled off for gasoline at a tiny whistle-stop community no bigger than a convenience store and a handful of houses, he’d grabbed some junk food to hold him over. He’d eaten worse and certainly gone longer without healthy food. The friendly woman at the store assured him he was headed in the right direction.

“Keep going until you see the turnoff,” she’d said. “It’s kind of hard to see at night but there’s a little green sign.”

A muscle in his left shoulder had tightened and the pain now ran up the side of his neck. Heath exhaled through his lips, eager to find that road sign.

But it wasn’t only the drive making him weary. He was soul weary, the only reason he could think of for his sudden decision to exchange a job he’d loved for work in a small Ozark town. He was tired of the constant travel, the short-circuited relationships that were over before they had a chance, and worst of all, the feeling that he was trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon.

And yet, he was driven to keep fighting. His father had taught him that. Never give up. Right the wrongs. Fight the fight. He was an army of one. One man could change the world.

Heath took a hand from the wheel to touch the badge in his pants pocket. His father’s life mattered and Heath aimed to carry the torch. Had carried it for a lot of years. The new assignment was different but the overriding mission remained the same.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Couldn’t be too much farther.” He’d give Mom and Holt a call as soon as he hit town. They’d both be worried, his brother as much as his mother. After all the places he’d been, the training he’d received and all his successful missions, Mom still feared he’d end up like his father.

He hoped she was wrong, but he couldn’t count on it.

* * *

Cassie Blackwell hunched over the steering wheel and squinted through the rain-lashed windshield. Wind buffeted the dependable little Nissan as a clap of thunder vibrated through Cassie’s bones. She shivered, though the heater pumped out plenty of clammy warmth. Her eyes burned from staring into the pitch-black night lit only by the pale wash of headlights and the frequent, unpredictable lightning.

In the last ten minutes, the storm had gotten progressively worse. Scary bad.

Like blue laser fingers, lightning suddenly splayed across the ominous clouds. As if the skies had opened, rain fell in sheets, loud and unnerving. The lightning was quickly sucked back into the swirling masses overhead, into a blackness so deep Cassie couldn’t tell for sure where she was.

This looked bad. Real bad. Tornado season was upon them and though she was no meteorologist, she understood tornadic thunderstorms. Texans cut their teeth on tornados, and a half dozen years in the Ozarks couldn’t erase a lifetime of experience.

Through the deluge, she spotted the car ahead. One lone vehicle other than hers crawled through the night, clinging to the curvy mountain roadway. It reminded Cassie of a commercial in which the tires had grown tiger claws to grip the pavement. Tonight her Nissan needed claws.

If a tornado fell out of those ominous clouds, she didn’t know what she’d do. There was no ditch, no storm shelter, no houses for miles, other than her own still a dozen miles ahead.

Her eyes had started to burn from the strain of peering into the astonishing blackness. The air was sticky, a harbinger. Small hail ping-ponged off the hood and bounced in the headlights like popcorn on the blacktop. Her windshield wipers kept up a rhythmic whap-whap to battle the sluicing rain, a battle they couldn’t win tonight.

She punched on the radio, hoping for weather reports. Static, intensified by sizzles of lightning, filled the car. She turned off the useless noise. Whatever the weather, she would have to ride it out.

Normally, Cassie loved thunderstorms. The clean smell, the invigorating wind, the sudden burst of cold wetness. Most of all she enjoyed the wild, showy side of nature, the power of an awesome God. She liked to sit on the ranch’s front porch and watch the storms move over the mountains, to wrap in a blanket and sip a cup of hot tea and dream of the one and only time she and Darrell had gotten to do that very thing together. Before they married. Before he was gone.

Lightning flared in the sky for scant seconds. Cassie noticed the car again, its watery red taillights barely discernible through the deep black curtain of heavy rain. She watched the lights waver and then fishtail crazily as the driver lost control.

“Jesus!” Cassie cried, a prayer for the driver. The lightning disappeared as quickly as it had come. In the blackness, she didn’t know if the car had righted itself or if even now, the driver plunged down an incline into the thick woods...or worse, into one of the canyons.

She dared not speed up, lest she, too, lose control. The road curved sharply ahead where she’d last seen the other vehicle. She crept forward, a prayer on her lips, her eyes wide and scratchy as she tried to make out the exact spot where she’d seen the driver lose control.

There. Cassie decelerated and tapped her brake. To her right and fifty feet down into a deep ravine she spotted the faint impression of light. Dread in her gut, heart racing, she pulled as far to the side of the road as possible and stopped. The rain still came in drenching torrents. Storm or not, she had to do something. Someone could be hurt.

Cell phones were great when they worked, which was rarely the case in remote areas like this one. In this storm she had serious doubts, but she quickly pressed 911 anyway. When nothing happened, she fired a text to her brother and another to Police Chief JoEtta Farnsworth in the nearest town, Whisper Falls. Maybe, just maybe, the text could get through the storm.

Then, she did what she had to do. Flashlight in hand, she leaped out into the wild, raging night and plunged down the brushy incline toward the accident.

In seconds she was drenched. Brush grabbed at her naked legs, ripping flesh. Of all the crummy times to wear a skirt. Slipping and sliding, Cassie stumbled once on a fallen tree her light hadn’t picked up. A bolt of lightning, blue with fire, had her up and scurrying faster. Old leaves mushy with rain squished beneath her pretty new heels, a gift from her mother from only yesterday.

Through the noisy storm, she heard the rumble of a motor. The vehicle, which she now saw was a smaller SUV, was still running, the headlights eerie in the deep, tangled woods.

Cassie ran to the driver’s side and pounded on the window. “Hello. Are you all right? Hello!”

A dark form slumped over the steering wheel. Shaking now, from both cold and anxiety, Cassie pulled at the back door. Locked. Frustrated, she banged on the driver’s window.

“Wake up. Wake up.” She prayed he wasn’t dead. The last dead person she’d seen had been her husband.

Darrell’s lifeless face flashed in her mental viewer. She shook her head to dispel the image.

Shivering, face dripping rain, hair plastered against her skull and vision skewed by the torrent, she shined the flashlight toward the ground, searching for anything to break out a window. Finding a thick branch, she heaved it against the back passenger glass. Nothing other than a jarred wrist for her efforts.

She hurried to the front of the car. The windshield had spider-webbed in the crash but hadn’t given way. It was weak. She could possibly break through the glass, much as she disliked the idea of exposing the injured driver to a flood of rain. She started around the car to the passenger’s side. Better to break the windshield out on the side farthest from the driver.

Behind her, the driver’s door popped. In a burst of adrenaline, Cassie whirled toward the sound. The dark woods were eerie and she was alone. Her flashlight picked out a man’s hand and wrist on the armrest. A watch glowed green in the darkness right before the arm fell, limp.

Cassie hurried to the door and pulled, but the door had opened as far as it could. Only a few inches. Her fingers fumbled around inside the door and found the locks, popping them.

“Thank You, Lord.”

She yanked the back door open and crawled inside, shivering at the interior warmth and the sudden, wonderful cessation of rain. Rain dripped all over the nice leather interior, but that was the least of her worries.

She shook the broad shoulder in front of her. “Can you hear me?”

He mumbled something.

Cassie shined the flashlight at the side of his face and scrambled over the seat, leaving a trail of water.

The man’s face turned slightly toward her. “What—?”

“Where are you hurt?”

“Hurt?”

He must be addled, concussed or...something. She owned a beauty salon. What did she know about injuries other than sunburn from too much time in the tanning beds?

“Do you think you can walk? I have my car up on the road. I can take you to a doctor.” Dr. Ron, the only physician in Whisper Falls, was accustomed to being awakened in the night for emergencies.

He shook his head. “My leg.”

What about his leg? Was it broken? Crushed? Were bones sticking out? The last, grizzly thought rattled her nerves but bones or not, she was his only help.

Using the flashlight, Cassie started at the top of his head and began a slow perusal of the driver. “I can’t see that well, but let me check you over. I texted for help. I don’t know if I had reception though. The storm.”

He nodded, his jaw tight and lines of pain radiating from his lips all the way into the stretched cords of his neck. His was a manly face with wide, chiseled jawbones and deep-set eyes. She couldn’t tell the color but she could see the pain and confusion. He was addled, no doubt about it.

She’d never been much for facial hair but his suited. A wisp of whiskers above his lip and on his chin. Just a little, just enough to make a woman notice. Not that she was noticing in a situation like this.

“Forgive the intrusion,” she murmured, not sure if he heard or understood, but her vision was limited. His medium-length dark hair could easily conceal a wound. She had no choice but to touch him. “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

Her fingers scanned the back of his head, up and over to the forehead. There. A knot the size of a softball along his left temple. “You’ve hit your head.”

She pulled her fingers back and shined the light on them. No blood. She breathed a sigh of relief. No blood suited her fine.

“My leg,” he said again and attempted a slight shift in the seat.

Cassie aimed the light lower, searching in the dimness. “I can’t see.”

He reached above his head and snapped on the dome light. He wasn’t as addled as she’d thought. She hadn’t thought of that.

Cassie blinked against the brightness. “Thanks.”

“What happened?”

Or maybe he was. “You missed the curve and hit a tree.”

That was the short version.

“My leg. What happened?”

“I can’t tell. I think it might be stuck. Can you move it at all?” Beneath the dash was a crumpled mess of metal and wires. She didn’t want to think about his leg underneath that weight.

“No.”

“Does it hurt?”

He paused as if having to think about the question. “I don’t think so.”

Strange answer. Either it did or it didn’t.

She shined the light in his face. Glazed eyes barely blinked.

Okay, this was not good. The man had a head injury and couldn’t get out of the car. And it was likely her text hadn’t gone through.

Thunder rumbled. Rain kept up a steady swoosh. Flashes of lightning radiated through the night sky.

She did not want to make that trip back up to the road.

“Will you be all right while I go to my car and try to call again? I left my cell up there.” Stupid decision but water and cell phones didn’t mix. She should know. She’d knocked one into the shampoo bowl before and that had cost a pretty penny to replace. “With the storm moving on, I might be able to get through.”

“Yeah.”

As Cassie pulled at the passenger door, an iron grip manacled her wrist. She whipped around.

“What’s your name?”

She stared down at his fingers. For a wounded man, he was strong! “I’m Cassie. What’s yours?”

“What happened?”

There again the hint that he was more injured than he let on.

“You’ve had an accident.” Gently she wiggled her wrist but he held fast. “What’s your name?”

Not a bad idea to know in case he went unconscious again before emergency help arrived. You could never tell about head injuries.

“Monroe.” Did his voice sound slurred? “Heath Monroe.”

It fit him. Masculine. Strong. She tugged against his powerful grip. “You can turn loose now.”

Slowly, he shook his head.

“Cassie.” The way he said it sent a little tremor down her spine. He moistened his lips and swallowed. “Don’t go.”

His fingers went slack. Definitely addled.

“Hang tight, Heath, I’ll be right back. Promise.”

As good as her word, she was back in minutes. This time she’d tucked her cell phone inside a plastic shopping bag and brought it along. Just in case.

By the time she returned, he’d removed his seat belt and was rummaging in the console. The deployed air bag draped over his lap like an enormous melted marshmallow. Maybe that explained his confusion. An air bag packed a wallop.

She slammed the door, grateful to be inside again. The wet cold seeped into her bones.

“I made contact with my brother. He knows the area. He’ll get help and bring them here.”

The man’s head dropped back against the headrest, eyes drifting closed. Whatever he’d been rummaging for was forgotten. He was still as pale as toothpaste. “Good.”

“It could take a while. We’re deep in the woods.”

He rolled his head toward her. Beneath the dome light, his eyes were green like hers, though darker and more intense. The knowledge gave Cassie a funny feeling, as if they were connected somehow. “How far to Whisper Falls?”

Talking seemed to take more effort than it should.

“The town or the waterfall?”

“What?”

He was either addled or a total stranger to the area. “Whisper Falls is both a waterfall and a small town up here in the Ozarks. It’s a long story but basically the town council decided to rename the town for the waterfall to attract tourists.”

“And other things,” he murmured, a statement which made her wonder all over again about his mental acuity.

“The falls is north of town, not far from where I live. The town itself is another six miles east. If you’re headed to town, you missed the turn.” Which made her wonder—why would a stranger be driving into Whisper Falls at this hour of the night?

Though the heater pumped out a warm hiss, it wasn’t enough to penetrate the wet chill that had settled over her skin. Cassie shivered.

“You’re cold.”

“I’ll live.” She hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down on her goose-bumped arms. She had a sudden memory of accident victims needing a blanket to keep from going into shock. Or something like that. There was no blanket available, but she had a suitcase full of clothes in the car. She could cover him with a sweater or two. “Are you warm enough?”

He didn’t answer. He’d closed his eyes again and gotten quiet. Cassie fretted. Had his pallor increased? Was he asleep or unconscious? Remembering all the movies in which sleep was bad for a head injury, Cassie thought she should keep him talking. If there was one thing other than haircuts Cassie was good at, it was talking. “How’s the leg?”

His eyelids fluttered but he didn’t move otherwise. “Numb. Stuck. Frustrating.”

“That’s an understatement.” She’d always been a talker, but years as a hairdresser had honed the skill. As her brother, Austin, often said, she could talk to a fence post. He should know. She talked to him, a man who’d rather have a stick in the eye as to carry on a conversation. “Do you hurt anywhere? Any other injuries you can determine?”

“A little headache.”

“Little? Or one of those headaches where a burly construction worker is slamming your brains with a hammer?”

“Yeah. Rattled my brains.” He drew in a shuddering breath, wincing at the effort. Something else hurt whether he acknowledged it or not. “Careless. I’m a better driver than that.”

Now they were getting somewhere. An entire coherent thought.

Encouraged, Cassie pushed on. “Male pride. You sound like my brother when a horse throws him.”

One corner of Heath’s mouth moved the slightest bit as if he wanted to engage but didn’t quite have the energy. “Cowboy?”

“Austin’s a rancher. His place is a few more miles up this road and then back down a gravel road another mile and a half. Or did I tell you that already?”

“Boonies.”

The comment was both apt and revealing. “Where are you from, Heath? Are you a city boy?”

He went silent again though Cassie was pretty sure he was conscious. It was as if he had to think about his answers. Either he’d had his memory knocked sideways or he was avoiding the question, something that made no sense. The headache must be taking a toll on his thought processes.

Finally, as though his mouth was parched, he moistened his lips again and muttered, “Houston.”

“Texas?”

He managed a wry glance, one eyebrow arched the tiniest bit. “Is there any other?”

Good. He was sounding better. Texans were a proud lot.

“Surprised, because I’m from Texas, too. Austin and I moved here from outside of Dallas. We’ve been here a long time, but Mom and Dad still live there. That’s where I’ve been this week. A friend got married and I was in the wedding.” She smiled a little at the memory of her old friend so much in love. She’d suffered a bite of the green-eyed monster, too, normal she supposed even though she never expected to fall in love again. “I did some shopping, ate Mama’s cooking. Gained weight. Fun times.”

That brought about as much response as kissing a mirror. She glanced at the clock on the dash, fretting again. Where was Austin? He should have been here by now. She was growing weary of trying to carry on a one-sided conversation with a disturbingly attractive, head-injured man during a pretty scary thunderstorm. But keeping him alert, or at least awake, was imperative. Wasn’t it?

She should have paid more attention in first aid classes.

“I do hair,” she said. Okay, that was lame, but what was she supposed to talk about to a total stranger who didn’t give her much to work with? “I’m good at it, too.”

Not that you could tell right now, with her straight black layers plastered flat against her head and dripping all over his leather interior.

“’Scuse me?” His eyelids lifted to half-staff. He had noticeably long lashes, thick and spiky, that shadowed his cheekbones. Thick eyebrows slashed above his eyes. No wax. She would know. She did plenty of wax jobs, even on men, though some of them swore her to secrecy.

“I’m a hairstylist. I do nails, too. My partner, Louise, and I run the Tress and Tan Salon in Whisper Falls.” She wiggled her fingers at him. Her nails were acrylic, a tidy length but decorated with tiny tuxedoes in honor of the wedding. “Need a mani-pedi?”

His face was still too pale, but he managed a faint smile. More of a grimace, really, but an attempt to stay awake. “If I have any toes left.”

Ouch. “My brother should be here soon. Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here and that pedicure will be on the house. All ten toes.”

“Optimist.” The word had weakened, tapering off at the end so that it sounded more like ‘optimisss.’ Not good. Come on, Austin.

“Do you always drive off into strange places during raging thunderstorms? And why Whisper Falls? Visiting relatives?” When he didn’t answer, she touched his arm. “Come on, Heath, stay awake.”

“Late start.” He was trying. She’d give him that much. “GPS...not too dependable.”

“You got lost. Figures. Anyone can get lost out here.” And he probably had been too proud and stubborn to stop and ask directions. Darrell had been like that, confident the location was right around the corner. “Mountains and trees are not impressed by modern technology.”

He closed his eyes again, worrying Cassie. The car engine was still engaged, and a quick glance at the dash indicated plenty of gas. At least he’d had the presence of mind to fill up sometime in the recent past. They were warm and secure, the thunderstorm subsiding somewhat as it moved toward the east, though the rumbles continued and lightning flickered.

“Thunderstorms here are pretty spectacular. The noise echoes for miles.” His cheek twitched but he didn’t answer. Cassie reached for his pulse. “Are you still with me?”

“Yeah.” The word was barely a whisper.

Was he bleeding internally? Going into shock? Cassie’s mind raced, but all she could come up with were scenes from General Hospital and crazy words like subdural hematoma. Whatever that was.

The car grew silent. Cassie thought she should be doing something proactive but didn’t know what. So she sat beside the injured man and chatted away about Whisper Falls and every single head of hair she’d ever groomed, praying that Austin and an emergency crew would get here soon. The man would know more about Whisper Falls than she did—if he could remember.

“Heath?” she said, shaking his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered up. Did they look more glazed now than before?

“You’re pretty,” he mumbled. “Got a boyfriend?”

Yes, he was delusional. Delirious. Poor man.

“No. My husband died.”

“Sorry.”

Not wanting to discuss Darrell’s death, she shifted the topic to him. “What about you? Any significant other I should call? Girlfriend? Wife?”

“No more.”

Okay, so he was either divorced or had recently broken it off with a girlfriend or worse, like her, his spouse had died. A curl of empathy circled through her. Being alone hurt. No matter how she’d tried to fill her life with activities, she missed the closeness of being a couple. She missed Darrell. In fact, she’d been missing him the day she’d climbed Whisper Falls. And guess what? Her prayer hadn’t been answered. She was still laughing at herself over that silly episode.

“Who are you visiting in Whisper Falls?”

“Police chief.”

“JoEtta Farnsworth?”

“Know her?”

His words were definitely slurring.

“Everyone in Whisper Falls knows Chief Farnsworth. Tough, fair and...eccentric to say the least. Are you related?”

The chief had kids somewhere but Cassie couldn’t recall whether they were male or female or where they lived. One thing for certain, they didn’t come around Whisper Falls too often. Heath’s last name was different but that didn’t mean much these days, and if Heath was the chief’s son, he was a jerk of the first order for never coming to see his mother. JoEtta was gruff and rough but a good person.

Whatever the connection, Heath didn’t answer. The car went silent again except for the endless drip of rain from the overhanging trees.

“Heath?”

He didn’t move.

She touched him. “Heath.”

He didn’t respond.

“Come on, pal, stay with me. I don’t like it when you take naps. It’s not fair. You can’t nap if I can’t.”

Heart in her throat, she grabbed his wrist, felt for a pulse. A thready beat pulsated against her fingertips.

“Heath, wake up. Talk to me.”

He didn’t.

Help needed to get here and it needed to get here now.

Chapter Two

Cassie pulled out her cell phone and tried again to reach her brother. She had one single bar of service but maybe that was enough. When Austin didn’t answer, she punched in 911 once more. Before the call could connect, she heard the wail of a siren.

She almost melted in relief. Thank You, Lord.

“They’re here, Heath.” She patted his shoulder. “You’ll be okay now. Hang tight. I’m going up to the road to direct them down to you.”

She didn’t know if the handsome stranger heard her or not, but she shoved the door open and raced up the steep incline, heedless of the brambles that were every bit as relentless on the ascent as they were coming down. Her breath came in short gasps as she tried to hurry.

She saw Austin’s truck first and though light rain peppered her skin, she rushed toward her parked car and flipped on the headlights. Austin wheeled in next to her and leaped out of the truck.

“You okay?” Her tall, cowboy brother was a born protector.

“Soaked. Cold but all right. The guy in the SUV isn’t doing so hot, though.”

“You look like a drowned rat.” Austin reached back inside the truck and pulled out a jacket, handing it to her. “Put this on.”

Grateful for the warmth, she slid her arms into his oversize fleece.

About that time, the Whisper Falls’s volunteer fire and rescue truck arrived. The crew varied, but tonight was not the usual group of volunteers. As the siren died away, Mayor Rusty Fairchild, a fresh-faced Opie look-alike hopped out of the cab in a warm-looking yellow slicker and rain boots, accompanied by Evangeline Perryman and paramedic Creed Carter.

The police chief pulled in right behind the rescue truck. Suddenly the dark night was bright with vehicle lights and people carrying brilliant halogen spotlights.

With a sense of profound relief, Cassie had never been so glad to see human beings in her life. People she knew and trusted. Good people, who made up in love and commitment what they lacked in fancy equipment.

“Where’s the patient?” Creed Carter asked. She was especially glad to see Creed. The husband of her close friend Haley the chopper pilot was medic trained in the military and often ran medi-flights out of the mountains. He was cool as ice water in an emergency and always seemed to know what to do.

“Down there.” She pointed her flashlight. “His leg is trapped. Not sure how bad, and I think he has a head injury. He was talking but—”

“Trapped?” Creed whirled toward Evangeline, a large, rawboned hill woman who lived with a pig. Literally. Cassie should know, she painted the pig’s toenails for special occasions. “We’ll need the ram.”

The crew grabbed a tackle box of gear, a length of hose, and something that looked like a small generator and followed Cassie through the damaged brush and trees to the accident site.

In seconds the crew, along with Austin and JoEtta, swarmed the still-running SUV. Cassie realized she was shaking all over, an adrenaline flush, she supposed, in addition to the cold and wet. She wanted to climb back into the car with Heath and make sure he was all right but there didn’t appear to be room. Evangeline was in the front seat, taking vital signs while Creed shined a penlight at Heath’s pupils.

She wasn’t needed now, though she’d developed an odd kind of bond with the stranger and was reluctant to leave. So she stood a few feet away, shivering, and watched as the rescuers did their work.

A boom of thunder shook the earth. Rain started to fall again, peppering her and the rescuers.

“Go to the car,” Austin called, looking up from his spot next to Creed. The two men, both strong and fit, were wedging some sort of long, metal tool between the door post and the dash.

She wasn’t leaving. Not until she knew Heath would be all right. They were in this thing together. And she owed him a pedicure. “Is he okay?”

“He’s still with us.”

That was something anyway.

“Did you call Moreburg for an ambulance?” The town of Whisper Falls had no hospital and had to depend on a nearby town or Creed Carter’s helicopter for medical transport. She doubted he could fly in this storm.

“’Course I did.” The police chief pushed away from the SUV where she’d been shining her light on the impact site and clumped to Cassie’s side, gear rattling. Over fifty and gruff as a Rottweiler, JoEtta Farnsworth was a career police officer with more quirks than this road had curves. Dressed in her usual leather vest and brown boots, tonight she was minus the aviator goggles and helmet she normally wore on her scooter patrols through Whisper Falls. Instead, she’d wisely worn a flat-brimmed hat. “They may be a while.”

“Creed can’t fly in this weather.”

“Nope. Don’t worry, we’ve handled emergencies up here before. Problem though, we’ve got our hands full in town, too.”

“What’s going on?”

“Tornado touched down on the east edge.”

“A tornado? Oh, no!” Remembering the violent thunderstorm, Cassie shouldn’t have been surprised. “Is anyone hurt?”

“Got people out checking. State police will be along as soon as they can to help out. Mostly looks like trees and power lines down, but we won’t know for a while, it being dark and all, and you never can tell for sure until daylight.”

“Was there damage to any of the businesses?” Her shop was smack in the middle of the main street area.

JoEtta gave her a long look. “Don’t know yet, missy. We’re doing the best we can, and then this feller has to run his car off in a ravine.”

“I’m sure he did it to annoy you, Chief.”

JoEtta snorted. “I figure you’re right. What happened here? Did you witness the accident?”

“I saw him lose control, saw his taillights spin away, but in the dark, I didn’t see him leave the roadway.” She shivered and huddled closer inside the jacket. Austin was right. Drowned rat.

“He was lucky you came along.” The chief peered at the SUV, thinking. “Speeding?”

“I don’t think so. The rain was a deluge and visibility was terrible. I think he probably didn’t see the sharp curve until he was in it.”

“Likely you’re right. He wouldn’t be the first.” Rain trickled off her hat brim. “I didn’t want to get in the way while they were doing the extraction but I stuck my head in. I didn’t notice any alcohol or drug smells, did you?”

“No, nothing like that.” The only smell she recalled was the cologne-scented air freshener dangling from his mirror. “He has a bump on his head.” Suddenly remembering that important detail, she yelled, “Creed, check the left side of his head near the temple.”

“Got it.”

“Was he coherent enough to give his name? Any info about what he was doing out here? Anything at all to help with this investigation?”

In all the excitement, Cassie had forgotten. “He said he was on his way to Whisper Falls to see you. I thought he might be a relative.”

“Me?” The chief’s head spun to the accident and without another word, she stomped toward the SUV and the rough whine of a gas-powered generator. Metal screeched, a high-pitched sound worse than a fork on a plate, as the hydraulic ram slowly pushed the dash away from Heath’s body.

Cassie clenched her back teeth against the noise, fighting a queasy fear about the man’s leg. Praying the rescue wouldn’t damage him more, she trotted to catch up with the police woman. “His name is Heath Monroe. Do you know him?”

“Heath Monroe is my new assistant chief,” JoEtta barked, “if he hasn’t gone and killed himself.”

* * *

“Bust me out of here, Doc.” Heath punched the end icon on his cell phone as the doctor, lab coat flaring out at the sides, breezed into the hospital room. Already this morning, Heath had touched base with Chief Farnsworth and run some digital errands, but being stuck in a Fayetteville hospital felt as confining as a Guatemalan jail cell. To his regret, he’d spent some time there, as well.

“In a hurry to get somewhere?” The doctor tapped a screen on his smartphone and stared at it while they talked. Heath wondered if he was playing fantasy football or reading Heath’s medical reports.

“Yeah, I am.” He was always in a hurry. Criminals didn’t take days off.

Dr. Amil, a short, pleasant-looking physician with white at the temples, stashed the phone in his jacket and unwound a stethoscope from his neck, stuck the ends in his ears and pressed the cold end to Heath’s chest. While he listened to whatever doctors listen for, he asked, “How’s the head?”

“Terrific,” Heath lied. The sucker throbbed with a dull ache and every time he sat up in this humiliating backless gown, he saw spots and felt nauseated. He’d had concussions before. He’d live.

“Any nausea or vomiting?”

Heath huffed. He wanted to roll his eyes but it hurt too much. “I’m all right, Doc. I’ve had worse. Bust me out of here. I have work to do.”

As calm as if his patient wasn’t fidgeting like a six-year-old in church, the doctor removed a penlight from his coat pocket and shined it in Heath’s eyes. “Pupils reactive, equal.” He straightened. “CAT scan was clear, no bleeding. You were lucky. Let’s look at that ankle.”

With a beleaguered sigh, Heath yanked the sheet from his left leg. He was more than lucky. As in all his other close calls, Somebody bigger than him was on duty. “Leg’s just bruised, Doc. Slap a wrap on it and cut me loose.”

Dr. Amil didn’t seem in any hurry to comply. “Just because no bones are broken, doesn’t mean you can get around on this leg, Mr. Monroe. The ligaments and tendons have been sorely stretched as you can tell by the deep purple bruising around the ankle and foot. PT will be up in a while to fit you with a boot.”

Heath audibly groaned. “Please tell me this is a cowboy boot, custom made, fine cowhide. Otherwise, I’m good with a brace.”

The physician chuckled in a flash of white teeth against a swarthy face. “Mr. Monroe, you’re a stubborn man.”

“I’ve been told that. I won’t wear a boot, Doc. Sorry. Don’t bother sending one up. Too bulky. Too restrictive. Bring me a wrap or a brace or something simple and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dr. Amil studied him for a moment, hand to his chin, assessing. Heath always wondered what went on the mind of someone brilliant enough to be a doctor. Even Sam, his best friend from childhood, now an A-1 cardio-thoracic surgeon in Houston, was sometimes on a different wavelength than the rest of the world.

“You’ll regret the decision unless you stay off this leg for a while. Two weeks at least with gradual weight bearing and activity.”

“Understood.”

“Your injuries are mostly minor, nothing rest won’t cure. X-rays and CAT scan are clear, blood work is within normal limits. No need to keep you here any longer, especially since you have made up your mind to leave us.” He offered a small smile. “But you must take it easy and give your body time to heal.”

“Got it. Time heals all wounds.” Which wasn’t exactly true. Time hadn’t healed some of Heath’s deepest wounds. He’d come to grips with them and moved on, but healed? Not happening.

Troubled by his unusually morose thoughts and figuring he was more concussed than he wanted to admit, Heath squirmed, searching for a more comfortable position. In a hospital bed, he seemed to be constantly sliding downhill. The movement shot pain through his rib cage and ankle and set his head awhirl. Running off the road on his way to Whisper Falls had proven very inconvenient. “My new boss is coming to pick me up. Am I good to go when she gets here?”

He’d made a commitment and he planned to keep it even if he was twenty-four hours late and a little banged up.

“As soon as your paperwork is ready, but as I said, take life easy for a few days. No strenuous activity, no heavy lifting or sports. Avoid alcohol, sleep a lot, and you probably shouldn’t make any important decisions for a few days. The nurse will give you a treatment sheet to take with you. It includes problems to look for. If any symptoms worsen, give us a call.”

“Got it.” He wasn’t going to follow through, but he understood the message. Even though the hospital’s overnight hospitality had been superb, he’d had all of it he could endure.

The minute the doctor exited the small room, Heath hobbled out of bed to get dressed. His head spun, making him lean against the wall until the fog cleared. With wry humor, he wondered if his eyes had crossed. To check, he leaned into the mirror for a look. His beard was scraggly. He rubbed a hand over it, wincing at how sore a man could be from a minor accident. After finding a plastic bag containing his clothes, he limped to the shower, eager to get rid of the humiliating gown. In the mirror, he gazed with fascination at the discoloration on his chest and shoulder. No wonder he was sore. The black eye was pretty entertaining, too.

Sore or not, he couldn’t let this unexpected detour deter him from the job he’d been hired to do. He fumbled in the pocket of his jeans for the badge he’d carried every day since he was twelve years old. Running his fingertips over the now-dulled finish and the distinctive Lone Star in the center, he thought of the man who’d given his life to uphold everything this badge stood for. Heath was determined not to let him down.

By the time Chief Farnsworth crashed through the door like a battering ram, Heath had showered and dressed and was sitting in the regulation high-backed uncomfortable chair in the corner of the unit, completely exhausted and furious to be so. The shower had helped clear his head but it hadn’t done much for his aching body.

“Heath Monroe, you’re a heap of trouble. You better live up to your reputation.”

He’d been warned that Chief Farnsworth was tough and blunt. “I plan to.”

She stomped to his chair side and speared him with a long appraisal. “You look like you hit a tree.”

“Feel like it, too.”

“Ha! What’s the doc say?”

“I’m free to go.”

“You’ll need a few days of R and R.”

“No, I’m good to go.”

The chief hackled up like a mad cat. “Don’t argue with me, Monroe. You might be DEA, but I’m the officer in charge.”

“Former DEA, Chief, but you’re right. It’s your town. I’m grateful you took me on.” The slower pace of Whisper Falls was exactly what he wanted, at least for a while. They’d agreed to a six-month trial period, and after that, who knew?

“Feel lucky to get a man like you. Though I have to admit I wonder why you’d want to come to a boring, rural town to play second fiddle to someone like me. Frankly, I wondered if you’d show up.”

“I’m a man of my word.” He took a slow, easy inhale, testing the bruised ribs, proud to hold back a wince. “Boring and quiet sounds good right now.”

“So you said. Burned out. Worn down.”

Those might not have been his exact words but close enough. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. We don’t have much crime, though the rise in tourism has caused a few issues. There was a time I could handle everything myself with a couple of part-timers and the occasional auxiliary for special occasions, but lately...Well, I’m not getting any younger. Having a full-time, experienced assistant chief will take a load off.” She spun a small, straight-backed chair close to his and plopped down. “Now. About you and this accident. You’ll need a few days to get familiar with Whisper Falls and the surrounding area. Might as well use that as healing time. When you start prowling around town on duty, you’ll need to be in top shape.”

Heath figured his definition of top shape and the chief’s were two different things. “How’s my SUV?”

“I had it hauled in to Tommy’s Busted Knuckle after we got you shipped up here last night. You’ll have to talk to Tommy.” She rubbed at her nose, sharp eyes still assessing him. “Cassie Blackwell saved your hide, son. We’d never have found you down in that hole if she hadn’t seen you go off the road.”

Cassie Blackwell. That was the name he’d been trying to remember all morning. “I owe her.”

“Sure do. She’s a good girl, our Cassie. You’ll be seeing her around.”

He hoped so. Even with a crack on the skull, he remembered Cassie. Silky voice, dark wet hair and huge eyes. Pretty. Really pretty. He wouldn’t mind seeing Cassie Blackwell again. “She offered me a pedicure.”

“What?” Chief looked at him as if he was still addled.

He shook his head, thinking he was still too fuzzy to make sense. “Nothing. Something funny she said to me last night. I think she was trying to keep me awake.”

“That’s Cassie. She can talk a blue streak.”

He remembered that much. She’d talked on and on when all he’d wanted to do was sleep. He thought she may have told him her life story and that of every person in Whisper Falls—which could come in handy in his job, if he could remember.

“Where’s that nurse?” The chief glared at the door, willing it to open. “We got to get moving.”

Heath’s head was pounding again. He really wished the chief wouldn’t talk so loud.

She pointed at him. “Sit tight, Monroe. I’ll go see if I can bail you out. The blasted rain finally let up, but we got us a mess in Whisper Falls, and the sooner we get back, the better.”

He waited until the blustering chief charged out of the room. Then he took out his cell phone and dialed 411. Heath Monroe was a man who paid his debts. And he owed Cassie Blackwell.

Chapter Three

The morning was clear and sunny, a perfect spring day when daffodils burst from the damp earth to nod their golden heads and the wind is so still a stranger wouldn’t believe how wild the sky had been last night. That is, until they arrived in downtown Whisper Falls and saw the mess.

Limbs and trash, asphalt shingles from someone’s roof, trash cans and lids, and a smattering of kids’ plastic toys were scattered down the streets and against business doors. The residential areas looked far worse. Cassie had even seen a doghouse hanging in a tree. She hoped the dog hadn’t been in it.

Along with every other businessperson in town, Cassie had hit the streets at daylight to assess the damage. From the looks of things, nothing was completely destroyed, but they’d have plenty of cleanup to keep them busy for days.

She wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, tired and oddly disheartened. She should be thankful, all things considered. Her shop was intact, her family and friends were safe, and even the stranger in the accident was reported to be in good condition.

She hadn’t slept much last night, given the late hour she’d gotten home and the whirl of excitement that had gone on before. Heath Monroe had played around the edges of her mind even while she’d slept. She’d awakened after a reenactment of that long period when she’d been alone with him inside the crashed vehicle. She’d been afraid for him.

All night, she’d fought the temptation to call Chief Farnsworth for an update but had waited until this morning. The chief had her hands full with the aftermath of an F1 tornado and if Cassie knew JoEtta Farnsworth, the chief had slept less than anyone.

“Thank God the tornado was a little one,” she muttered as she bagged trash and listened to the whine of chain saws. Her brother, Austin, Davis Turner and a group of other men manned the saws, clearing broken trees and limbs whereever needed.

“I’m thankful we didn’t take a direct hit.” This from Evelyn Parsons, the town’s matriarch. The older woman, whose salt-and-pepper hair was kinked tight as corkscrews in the damp morning air, had literally put Whisper Falls on the map. She wouldn’t take it lightly if the town was blown away after all her efforts to revive it. Miss Evelyn had turned a rumor into a tourist attraction. People came from all over to pray under the waterfall outside of town, hopeful that the rumor was true, that God really did answer prayers murmured there. In the opinion of Miss Evelyn and most of Whisper Falls, everyone benefited from the story and it never hurt to pray. The comment made Cassie feel a little better about her own pilgrimage, though she would be embarrassed if anyone knew. “Uncle Digger said the worst damage is east of town. There aren’t many houses or people out that way.”

“A few but they’re scattered all over the hills.”

Darrell’s cousin lived east of town, though he was far up in the hills and back in the woods. She should probably call the man but he hadn’t been too friendly after Darrell’s death, as if he blamed her somehow for the loss. Truthfully, he’d never seemed to like her and they hadn’t spoken since the funeral.

“Not likely any of them took a hit. The tornado dissipated not long after it moved over the town.”

“True. I’m sure they’re fine.” Cassie peeled a soggy magazine from the side of a building and tossed it into the bag. “I have appointments this morning. Should we open for business?”

“Absolutely!” Miss Evelyn said. “This cleanup will take days, and that’s why we pay city workers and have a strong corps of volunteers. The sooner we get back to normal, the better.”

At eight, Cassie headed to the salon for a quick shower and change before her first appointment at eight-thirty. By ten o’clock the small salon was packed with customers and gossipers. Everyone knew there were two places in Whisper Falls to get all the latest news: Cassie’s Tress and Tan Salon and the Iron Horse Snack Shop down at the train depot, run by none other than Miss Evelyn and Uncle Digger Parsons. Cassie figured both businesses were hopping today.

Midmorning, the newly engaged Lana Ross stopped by in her quest for newspaper stories. Wearing her usual cowboy boots and bling jeans, the former country singer looked petite and pretty, her dark brown hair curving softly against her shoulders.

“Mr. Kendle wants photos for tomorrow’s edition,” she said. “But I wanted to be sure everyone in here was all right before I start snapping.”

That was so like Lana. After a rough start to life and a failed singing career in Nashville, she’d come home to Whisper Falls and met and fallen in love with widower Davis Turner. Cassie was happy for them. After all they’d both been through, they deserved happiness. And so did their children, a trio of adorable matchmakers.

“We’re all okay,” Louise said. A gamine-faced woman with a shock of striped mahogany hair she wore in a short rock star emo cut, Louise was a master stylist and a creative manicurist. No one in town did nails like Louise. At the moment, she was painting filler into Ruby Faye Loggins’s acrylics. “What about you and Davis?”

“Nothing damaged except Paige’s trampoline. It’s hanging on the back fence with the net ripped off. But boy, was the weather scary for a while.”

“I heard there was some damage out by the airport. Has anyone talked to Creed or Haley?” This from Ruby Faye.

“I did,” Lana said. “Creed’s helicopter is all right. A couple of pieces of sheet metal blew off and broke out a window on one of the small planes parked outside though.”

“That’s too bad.”

“At least everyone seems to be safe so far,” Lana said. “But I heard Cassie had quite an adventure last night.”

Like satellite dishes seeking a signal, all heads rotated toward Cassie. As sweet as her customers were, they also liked the excitement generated by a tornado or a car accident or even a big storm. The buzz of fascinated energy was like electricity this morning. Frankly, it made her tired.

“Tell us, Cassie,” Ruby Faye insisted, her eyes wide and eager for more stories to share at the bait shop she and her husband owned.

Before Cassie could open her mouth, volunteer firefighter Evangeline Perryman beat her to it, giving a recap of the rescue.

“He’s good-looking, too, girls. My, my, my. He made my heart flutter.” She clapped a hand against her generous chest.

“That was your angina, Evangeline.” This wry statement came from Ruby Faye at the manicure station.

While the others chuckled, Evangeline insisted, “He was a hunk, wasn’t he, Cassie? Dark and mysterious and tight muscles. Tell them. He was a hunk.”

“Well, okay, he was pretty cute.” Understatement of the year. Heath was, as Evangeline insisted, a hunk.

“Did you get his name? JoEtta said he was coming to work for her.”

“Heath Monroe.”

“Is he single? I have a single daughter, you know, and boy, would I love to marry that girl off.”

Cassie wasn’t about to go there. Heath’s single status was his business. If the ladies of Whisper Falls wanted to stalk the poor man, she wasn’t getting involved. She was having enough problems not thinking about him as it was. Eventually she would see him again. Would he remember her? And why should she care one way or the other?

Her thoughts went back to that moment last night when the rescue team had carefully lifted Heath from the car. He’d tried to stand on his own, insisting he was all right. His eyes had found her and in that instance, they’d made some sort of sizzling connection—right before he passed out.

“Cassie? Cassie?”

Cassie came out of her reverie to see the whole shop staring at her once more. She looked down at the head she was shampooing. How long had she been standing here in a fog?

“Oh, sorry, I was just—thinking. Did you say something?”

Evangeline slapped a beefy hand on her thigh and chortled. “I think Cassie’s daydreaming about our new police officer.”

“Don’t be silly.” Even if it was true.

Cassie wrapped a towel around Fiona’s well-shampooed head and righted the style chair just as the shop door opened. She finished the towel dry and reached for her tools.

“Flowers?” Louise squeaked, a hopeful sound that lifted on the end. “For who?”

Louise was happily married with a toddler but her husband, sweet as he was, was not Mr. Romantic. Louise longed for him to send her flowers or whisk her away on a picnic. Even though she dropped hints on a regular basis, he never had.

Conversation in the beauty shop ceased as the satellite heads rotated toward the florist hidden behind the vase of colorful tulips and gerbera daisies. Lan Ying, the tiny Asian owner of Lan’s Flowers and Gifts, set the clear glass vase on Cassie’s workstation.

“For Cassie,” she announced with a sly grin, black eyes snapping with interest and humor.

“Me?” Cassie paused to stare in amazement, hairbrush in one hand and the silent blow dryer in the other. Fiona didn’t seem to mind that Cassie was no longer working on her new style. She, too, stared in bug-eyed interest at the bouquet.

“Why, Cassie dear,” Fiona said, “I think you must have an admirer.”

Cassie laughed. “No chance.”

She never received flowers. Well, unless you counted the ones her mom and dad sent for special occasions. Maybe that was it. She’d forgotten some important date. “Let me see the card.”

She put the brush and dryer down with a clatter that sounded outrageously loud in the too-quiet room, and reached inside the sunny mix of yellows, pinks and purples.

“These are beautiful, Lan. You’ve outdone yourself,” she said as she pulled the card from inside the tiny envelope. Her pulsed ricocheted. Oh. My. Goodness. He didn’t. Her face was hot as a flatiron.

“Who sent them, Cassie? Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“I can tell by her expression that it’s a man,” Evangeline smacked with no small satisfaction. “I told you so. Either Heath Monroe is a very grateful man, or Cassie has a beau.”

* * *

Heath was still half out of his head. That could be the only explanation for this uncharacteristic behavior. He worked alone. He didn’t get too involved or too close. His business—his former business—didn’t allow it.

He didn’t like crowds, either, and judging from the noise coming from inside, there was a big one.

Heath ran a hand over his brown button-down and hobbled toward the glass door. The salon was housed in an attractive old building with an upper-story balcony painted in a cheery red and trimmed in white. The glass front door proclaimed Tress and Tan Salon.

He had never been in a beauty shop in his life. But he was a man who paid his debts. Get in, get it done, get out. If he didn’t fall over first. The chief was already badgering him about R and R. Probably because of that little dizzy spell he’d experienced in her office.

His ankle felt the size of an elephant and shot pain up his leg with every step. After dumping his gear at the furnished garage apartment, he’d collapsed on the couch for a couple of hours but upon awakening the familiar drive to be up and moving had taken over.

All right, Monroe, admit it. He was curious about Cassie Blackwell, curious to know if she’d gotten the flowers, and since he was going to be living in this town, at least for a while, he wanted to make nice with the locals.

Might as well open the glass door and go inside. He’d entered worse, scarier and far more dangerous places. A chorus of female laughter rang out. With a wry shake of his head, Heath thought, Maybe.

He pulled open the door and stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the sudden reduction in conversation. The second thing was the smell. Really good shampoo. The kind that compelled a man to bury his nose in a woman’s hair.

His well-trained eyes scoped out the place in seconds. Three workstations but only two were manned. Or womaned, as it were. Zebra-striped chairs, a mish-mash of hair fixing doodads and a gaggle of gawking females. And that smell. That overriding, delicious scent of all things female.

He cleared his throat. “You got the flowers.”

Cassie Blackwell stood at one of the workstations. She’d turned toward the door when it had opened and now stood as if paralyzed, the mirror behind her reflecting the straight, choppy cut of her black, black hair.

Gorgeous. Last night, he’d thought she was pretty but his head had been too messed up to know anything for certain. Today, there was no doubt. His drippy-wet, shivering heroine from last night was a knockout.

“Why aren’t you in the hospital?” she asked and he took note of the biggest green eyes he’d ever seen. Green, like his. Cool.

“They don’t keep slackers.”

Every woman in the room clucked and then a cacophony started that made his head ache worse.

“You’re hurt.”

“Look at his eye. Quite a shiner.”

“Are you the new police officer?”

He replied to the last. “Yes, ma’am. Heath Monroe.”

For some reason, this brought another round of clucking accompanied by sly looks at Cassie.

He felt a little weird being the object of all this attention. Weird but amused. In his particular role as an agent, he’d been required to keep a low profile. He’d have to get used to being out in the open.

“Nice to meet you, ladies,” he said, forcing a smile that made his bruised eye hurt.

His comment was met with a round of introductions which he figured was a good thing. Getting to know the people in town would be as important to this job as it had been in covert operations.

But even as he carried on polite conversations with the women, cataloguing which one’s husband ran the bait shop and which was a retired schoolteacher, and who was at the scene last night, it was Cassie his gaze kept coming back to. Medium height, she looked taller in bright red high heels that matched her equally red lipstick. If he put his arms around her, she’d hit him about chin-high in sock feet. The wayward thought startled him. He didn’t know this woman, other than she’d been kind enough to help an injured stranger. Why was he stirred by the thought of Cassie, the hairdresser, in cozy little socks?

“Thank you for the flowers,” she said in that same silky voice that had invaded his concussed dreams. “They’re beautiful, but you really didn’t need to go to all that trouble.”

“If you hadn’t come along...” He let the thought ride. No use going there. They both knew. “Glad you like them.”

Before he could make the expected quick exit, the door behind him opened. He couldn’t help himself. Years of watching his back had him turning to the side as yet another female entered the building. This one was pretty in the way of women who spend a lot of time and money on their looks. Dressed to kill in a pencil-slim skirt and stiletto heels, she was a well-groomed blonde, blue-eyed and thinner than he liked his women. Not that he’d focused much on women in the past decade. He liked the female gender—a lot—but in his line of work, personal relationships had taken a backseat. About the time things started to progress, he’d be shipped off to some dark corner of the earth. Which was just as well. He had a job to do and a vow to keep.

Automatically, he touched his pocket and felt for the badge resting against his thigh, a reminder of his life’s mission and why he’d never settled down.

“Louise, I broke a nail,” the newcomer announced in a voice that said a broken fingernail was a state of emergency. She held up an index finger and pouted. “Can you fix it for me right quick? Pretty please?”

The wild-haired Louise nodded. The manicurist reminded him of those wide-eyed dolls whose heads were bigger than their bodies. “Sure thing, Michelle. Give me a couple of minutes to finish Ruby Fay.”

“I have an appointment at the bank in a few—” The woman’s voice trailed off when she spotted Heath. “Oh, my gracious, I am so sorry for interruptin’.” She stuck out the hand with the broken nail. “I’m Michelle Jessup. You must be our new police officer.”

Might as well get used to it. In a small town news carried far and fast.

“This is Heath Monroe, Michelle,” Cassie said, taking up the tools of her trade again. “And you guessed right. He’s our new assistant chief.”

“My goodness gracious, Heath, honey, you are all beat up. Oh, this is terrible. Not a good welcome to our little burg at all.” She pressed long-nailed fingers to her chest in an affected pose. Most of the people Heath had encountered so far in Whisper Falls spoke with a stronger-than-Texas accent but this woman’s suddenly thickened to Southern syrup. “I heard about that scary accident you had. What a blessing our little Cassie came along in the nick of time.”

Heath shot an amused look at “our little Cassie,” who lifted one eyebrow but didn’t speak. Heath didn’t like to judge a person on first impressions, but Michelle was making a strong one.

“Very lucky. I could have been stuck down there for days before anyone found me.”

“Well, isn’t she just heroic?” Michelle gushed, moving into Heath’s space with a flirty smile. “Your poor eye. It must hurt like crazy.” She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, an exotic blend of flowers and spice. “My daddy owns Jessup’s Pharmacy right down the street. If you need anything at all, you tell Daddy I sent you, and he’ll fix you right up.”

“I appreciate the offer. Thanks.” He eased a step back.

“You are so welcome,” Michelle said brightly, letting the last word trail off in a long, slow drawl. “Glad to help in any way I can. We take care of our people around here.”

“We sure do,” Louise muttered. “Especially our handsome new law-enforcement personnel.”

A snicker ran around the edges of the room, but if Michelle noticed, she didn’t let on. Heath practiced his poker face.

“I heard about your SUV being all smashed up. I am so sorry. If it can’t be fixed and you have to have a new one, you come right on over to the bank and see me. As the chief loan officer in Whisper Falls, I will take good care of you.”

A man would have to be blind, deaf and brain-dead not to get the message, though the woman couldn’t know Heath was immune. He’d been propositioned by some of the best, usually when he was about to haul them to jail.

“Good to know. Appreciate it. Everyone here has been very helpful.”

“Oh, Heath, you are so welcome.” She tilted her head and hunched one shoulder in a pretty pose, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Michelle, I’m ready for you.” Louise patted the tabletop and motioned toward the chair. “Come on over. You don’t want to be late for that appointment.”

The flirtatious woman turned her back and walked toward the manicurist, hips swaying. Heath purposely glanced away, catching Cassie’s eye. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d found the exchange as over-the-top as he had. Big green eyes dancing above some woman’s haircut, she fawned and mouthed, “Oh, Heath.”

Heath felt his nostrils flare as he fought back a laugh. Time to hit the road. He lifted a hand in farewell. “See you later.”

Cassie tilted her head and smiled. “Thanks again for the flowers.”

Their gazes held for several more seconds while he recalled the feel of her soft hands scanning his face and his hair. A zing of energy sizzled through him like last night’s lightning.

Puzzling over the unexpected reaction to his rescuer, Heath limped out into the sunlight, the noise of female conversation trailing him. Once the coast was clear, he paused. Hands on his hips, he looked up into the sunny blue sky and laughed.

He wasn’t sure what he’d signed up for, but Whisper Falls might turn out to be a lot more interesting than he’d ever expected.

Chapter Four

Thunderstorms had brewed up every afternoon for the entire week Heath had lived in Whisper Falls. The ground was a mud bog, delaying tornado cleanup. With the chief as his guide, he had spent the days cruising the town in their one and only police vehicle, getting acquainted. The citizens welcomed him with warmth and curiosity, commiserating over his wrecked SUV, his black eye and the ankle that refused to stop swelling like an overheated helium balloon.

Late Thursday morning, he propped said foot on a padded chair next to the scarred desk in what was now his official office—a closet-size cubicle beside the courthouse jail. A window looked out on the courthouse lawn, a pretty space with a Vietnam memorial marker, a statue of the town’s founder and lots of springtime green. On the adjoining streetcars tooled past with slow irregularity. Easy Street was well named. Life was definitely slower here than anywhere else he’d been in a while. Not counting a tiny Mexican village that had once been his base for a very long three months.

He reached down and loosened the boot lace from around the yellow-and-purple ankle. Didn’t hurt as much today, but the tautly stretched tissues were uncomfortable and he couldn’t shake the limp. His head was clearer, though, thank the Father. Damage could have been a lot worse if not for Cassie Blackwell, though he wondered about the inordinate amount of time he’d spent thinking about the woman who’d saved his hide on a rain-slicked mountain road. So far, he’d resisted another trip to her sweet-smelling, female-fixing salon—a male’s purgatory—but he wouldn’t mind seeing Cassie again.

“Already laying down on the job, Monroe?” With her usual rowdy entrance, Chief Farnsworth slammed into this office. No knock. No warning. Just bam! “Wimping out over a measly dab of ankle pain?”

Heath gave her a lazy smile. “That’s me. Any excuse not to work.”

“Figures. You Feds are all the same. All blow and no go.”

“And all you small-town Southern cops are corrupt.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Where’d you hide the body, Chief?”

Farnsworth barked a laugh. She was a straight-up law enforcer and Heath liked her. Didn’t mind working for her, either. He’d never chaffed at having a woman superior officer. Watching his mother raise three boys alone had taught him the value, strength and leadership of the female gender.

She leaned a hand on his desk. “One of us needs to do a safety walk through the school and look for security weaknesses this afternoon. You up to the task?”

Heath pushed back from the desk. He never figured himself as a desk man and didn’t plan to be much longer. Paperwork gave him colic. “Has someone made a threat?”

“No. Don’t plan to have any, either, but if they come, we want our kids protected.”

“You got that right. I don’t mind the trip, a good excuse to get acquainted with school personnel.” And hang with the kids. He missed his rambunctious nephews and that one fluffy-haired niece who could wrangle anything out of him with a dimpled smile.

“Sure you’re up to it? Requires some walking around the campus.”

Heath laced his boot, ignoring the throb and the question. “Want to call the superintendent? Or should I?”

“I’ll call, give him fair warning. His name is Gary Cummings. Reserved, suit-type feller but sharp as bear teeth.”

“Got it.” He dropped his foot to the floor and winced. Annoying. “I need to stop by the garage and check on my truck. That all right with you?”

“Fine. I’m headed up to talk with Judge Watson. The county DA is here today to go over some charges. Why don’t you cruise through town and make sure the citizens are behaving themselves?”

Heath huffed softly. “Is there any doubt? The place is quieter than a tomb.” Quiet seemed too mild a word. He-could-hear-his-hair-grow quiet.

“Just you wait, mister. Storm’s got ’em busy, but summer’s coming. Things heat up.”

He’d believe it when he saw it.

Eager to be doing anything other than sitting behind the desk, Heath was out the door and in the cruiser as fast as his bad ankle would take him. He liked Whisper Falls and had longed for peace and quiet. Be careful what you pray for, he supposed. In his former job, he’d rarely had a quiet day and the lack of action was making him a little crazy.

He cruised the streets first, eyes alert for anything out of the ordinary. So far this week, he and the chief had rousted a truant teenager, ticketed Bert Flaherty for doing forty in a twenty, responded to a possible dog theft and three domestics. Beyond that were the basic patrols, civic responsibilities and a handful of false alarms. He was still trying to figure out why Chief Farnsworth needed an assistant.

At the end of Easy Street, he pulled into Tommy’s Busted Knuckle Garage to check on his ride.

Tommy, a long, skinny man with brassy shoulder-length hair and a wooly reddish beard met him in the bay. “How’s the leg?”

“Good. What’s the verdict on my SUV?”

Tommy scratched his beard. “Insurance adjuster was here this morning. Sorry to tell you, Heath, but she’s a goner.”

Heath grimaced. He’d been afraid of that. “I’m going to have to get a new one?”

“Looks that way.”

He had a sudden vision of limping into the bank to ask Melissa Jessup for a loan, of having her pout over his poor little eye and his poor little ankle and his poor little broken car. Hiding a smile, he thought that might not be a bad thing. A man could use some feminine sympathy now and then.

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder and shook his shaggy head. “A rotten shame, a nice set of wheels like that, but I can’t put her back the way she was.”

He’d been fond of that SUV.

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. The men turned their heads toward the sound. Were they due for another storm this afternoon?

“Thanks anyway, Tommy. It was good of you to go out in the boonies and haul it up out of that ravine.”

“Ah, no big deal. Just glad it was the truck that bit the dust instead of you.”

“Can’t argue that.”

As he left the garage and started down Easy Street, he spotted a jaywalker. Not that he was going to ticket anyone for the infraction, but this jaywalker caught his attention. Glossy black hair that swung against her shoulders as she bopped along, a hot pink and zebra-printed smock over black pants and a pair of black high-heeled ankle-breakers.

His boredom vanished faster than chips at a dip tasting contest.

He whipped the car into a U-turn and parked at an angle in front of Evie’s Sweets and Eats. He pressed the window button and watched the smoked glass slide away just as Cassie stepped up on the curb.

“’Morning,” he said.

She pivoted toward him with a smile. “Hi. Except it’s nearly noon.”

“Yeah.” He grinned.

“How are you?”

Better now.

“Healing.” He touched the bruise over his left cheekbone. “How’s it look?”

“Awful.” But her smile softened the word. “Maybe you should run by the bank and get Melissa to feel sorry for you.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

“You have?”

“My vehicle is a goner. Gotta buy a new one.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” She stepped off the curb to stand by his car window. A flirty breeze ruffled her heavy bangs and he was pretty sure he smelled that fancy shampoo again.

Jockeying for a better view, Heath leaned an elbow on the window opening and tilted his face. Cassie had something that appealed to him. A kind of chic wholesomeness mixed with Southern friendly and a dash of real pretty. “Think I should get a loan from Melissa?”

Cassie grinned. “She’s good at her job, if you can deal with the fact that she thinks you’re the hottest thing to hit Whisper Falls since Pudge Loggins’s turkey fryer caught fire and burned down his garage.”

He hiked an eyebrow, amused and flattered and knowing very well what she meant. “Does she now?”

This time Cassie laughed, her scarlet mouth wide beneath dancing green irises. “Haven’t you noticed the number of times she’s been to the courthouse this week?”

He hadn’t. Man, he must be losing his radar. He hitched his chin toward the bakery. “Were you going in there?”

“Lunch. Want to come? Evie makes good sandwiches from her own homemade bread. Fresh baked this morning.”

“Best invitation I’ve had all day.” Since he’d been here actually. The school didn’t expect him for another hour, so he radioed his location to dispatch and exited the car. The ankle screamed at the first step, causing an involuntary hiss that infuriated Heath.

Cassie paused, watching him. “You’re still in pain.”

“No, I’m fine.”

She made a disbelieving noise in the back of her throat. “You remind me so much of my brother.”

“Must be a great guy.”

She took the statement as the joke he’d intended. “The best. You should meet him.”

“I’d like that.”

“Come to church Sunday and you will.”

Heath reached for the antique door handle. The scroll on the amber glass was equally antique as was the rounded arch transom above the door shaded by a red fringed awning.

“If I’m not on duty, I might do that.” He needed a church, not that he’d ever had time to attend much, but he believed, and church was important in a small town.

With his ankle throbbing, he somehow held the door open for Cassie and limped inside a small business that smelled better than Grandma Monroe’s kitchen on Thanksgiving. Though he wouldn’t be sharing that information with Grandma. The smells of fresh breads and fruit Danish mingled with a showcase of pies and homemade candies.

“A cop’s dream,” he muttered, only half joking.

A middle-aged woman—Evie, he supposed—who obviously enjoyed her own baking, created their orders while maintaining a stream of small talk with Cassie. When she put his sandwich in front of him along with baked chips and a glass of tea, she said, “This one’s on the house, Mr. Monroe, and dessert of your choice. Welcome to Whisper Falls.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You don’t have a choice. Go sit down and eat.” She smiled. “And enjoy.”

“Don’t argue with her, Heath. Trust me, she’ll get her money back from you.” Cassie took the lunch tray before he could and led the way to a table. There were only three and all had a sidewalk view.

“Chief called me a wimp today. I’m starting to feel like one.”

“How bad is your leg? I mean really. No bluffing. Any other injuries besides that?”

“Just the ankle. Sprained. And a couple of bruises here and there.” Bruises that ripped the air out of his lungs. “Annoying. But I still have all ten toes.” He bit into the thick, fragrant sandwich.

“I’m relieved to hear it. When do you want your mani-pedi?”

Heath choked, grabbed for the tea glass and managed to swallow. “My what?”

The thought of Cassie touching him again gave him a funny tingle. A nice tingle, come to think of it. Did she have any idea the thoughts that go through a man’s head at the most inappropriate times?

“You don’t remember our conversation?” she asked. “Is the concussion still bothering you?”

“Slight headache if I get tired. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you following up with Dr. Ron? He’s a really good doctor.” She pinched a piece of lettuce from her plate, holding it between finger and thumb. “And the only one in town.”

“Next week.”

“He’s terrific. You’ll like him.” She nibbled the lettuce and then bit into the sandwich packed with vegetables and turkey. Between bites, she chattered about plans for a community storm cleanup, the Easter sunrise service at the Baptist Church—which she deemed “not to be missed” though Easter was several weeks past—and filled him in on the small, useful details of Whisper Falls.

“Some of this sounds familiar,” he said after a long, cool drink of sweet tea. “Did you tell me this in the car?”

“I thought you didn’t remember.”

He never said that. He remembered bits and pieces. Like her silky voice and dogged efforts to keep him awake. “It’s starting to come back to me.”

“I’ve talked enough about Whisper Falls anyway. No use repeating myself again. Tell me about you. You’re from Texas, not married, no kids. Any other family back in Texas?”

“Two brothers and a terrific mom.”

“No sisters? Your poor mother.”

“She had her hands full.”

“I imagine so! Tell me about the brothers. Older or younger? What do they do?”

“Holt and Heston. Both younger. Both in law enforcement. Sort of. Holt is a private investigator. Heston’s a street cop.”

She tilted her head in a cute way that bunched her hair on her shoulder. He spotted a small sparkly earring. “Did they follow big brother’s path or is law enforcement in the genes?”

“In the genes, I guess. My dad was a cop.” His hand went to his pocket, to Dad’s badge. “A great cop. He died in the line of duty.”

Her perky expression fell. “That’s awful, Heath. I’m sorry.”

“Long time ago. Now we Monroe boys do our best to keep the bad guys off the streets.” He faked a grin. Time to move this conversation to softer ground. “Tell me about you. Besides making the women of Whisper Falls beautiful, what do you do?”

She returned his grin, though hers said she knew he was changing the subject and empathized. She was a nice woman.

As he chewed his ham and provolone, Heath recognized that he was sharply drawn to Cassie Blackwell, to her bright mouth and alabaster skin. His reaction puzzled him. She was friendly to the max, but didn’t flirt, yet Heath found her astonishingly attractive. Pulse-bumping attractive. Not that he worried about it much. He was accustomed to fast, brief relationships that went nowhere. Whether from duty or boredom, his interest in Cassie would burn out like the rest.

* * *

Cassie dipped the paintbrush into a tray filled with baby-blue color while her sister-in-law, Annalisa, worked her way around the small bedroom with a roll of masking tape and a straight edge, making sure every vertical stripe on the nursery wall was perfect.

A slight breeze drifted in the open window, a natural ventilation source, though Cassie had set a box fan in the doorway to help extract the paint fumes. The fan also kept the pack of dogs, particularly her apricot poodle, out of the way—much to Tootsie’s annoyance. Even now, the spoiled mutt lay in the hallway, gazing in with a wounded expression.

Cassie had offered to paint the room alone, but Annalisa had insisted on helping. After all, this was her baby, her project, but working together was fun. Cassie was grateful to her sister-in-law for allowing her to be part of transforming the old guest room into an adorable nursery for her brother’s baby. It was something she’d never get to do otherwise. Like her marriage, the dream of babies had died with her husband.

“The walls are looking gorgeous, Cassie.” Annalisa sat back on her heels, blond ponytail dangling, to admire their handiwork. Latte-brown already covered the upper half of the nursery and now they were striping the bottom in latte and blue. White chair rail divided the upper from the lower, and white enamel trimmed the windows, doors and the bottom of the wall. “Everything looks so crisp and clean. I can’t wait to put up the moon and star decor. Won’t it be pretty?”

Cassie rolled her tired neck and smiled softly at her beautiful sister-in-law and dear friend. “No prettier than the stars in your eyes.”

“Your brother—” Annalisa pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and sighed, one of those romantic, madly-in-love sounds that said more than words. “Who could imagine I’d end up on a ranch with a cowboy where I’m so happy I pinch myself every day to be sure it’s real? I really love him, Cassie. More now than ever.”

Annalisa’s devotion to Austin never failed to warm Cassie. Her brother had been through a terrible time with his emotionally disturbed first wife, and she’d despaired of ever seeing him embrace life and love again. But a lost and abused woman in the woods and a whispered prayer had changed him.

“You make him happy, too, Annalisa.”

“I know. That’s the beauty of true love. We’re both blessed, but I think I am most of all.” She rubbed a palm over her basketball belly. “Finding Austin was the best thing that ever happened to me. And having our little cowboy pretty soon is a wonderful bonus.”

Annalisa was one of those pregnant women who glowed. Her skin was clearer, her blue eyes brighter, and other than an intermittent battle with her blood pressure, she was full of energy. The ranch house had never been this clean! Not that housework was ever Cassie’s gig. She’d rather have her toenails removed. Annalisa, on the other hand, thrived on making a house a home.

“Only a few more weeks and I’ll be an aunt.” Something odd twisted in her chest.

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