Sarah And The Sheriff. Allison Leigh
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Sarah wasn’t so sure Brody was right on the school attendance, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. He was a trained agent.
She was just a…go between.
It was a position she’d sort of fallen into.
The only good thing to have come out of her time in California. When Coleman Black had approached her, she’d been swayed by his passionate explanation of how a person like her was needed by the agency. She’d believed she’d been abandoned by Max and had just lost their child. She’d needed to count. To matter to this world in ways that had nothing to do with her family, with anyone else but her.
She and Brody had already discussed the matter at length. Who would expect Megan to be in Weaver, after all? That’s what made Sarah’s involvement these past years with the agency work so beautifully. Their charges—children who, for one reason or another needed more protection than could be provided through traditional avenues—could be hidden in plain sight. In Megan’s case, her parents, Simon and Debra Devereaux—both mid-level politicians—had been brutally killed earlier that year. Hollins-Winword had become involved when other means to protect Megan—the only witness—had continually failed. The sight line of Weaver was pretty much off the radar unless you were a local rancher or worked for CeeVid, her uncle Tristan’s gaming software design company.
Nine times now, she’d arranged the houses when Hollins-Winword contacted her.
Another agent—never the same one—came in with their assignment for a while, and then moved on when it was time. She never knew where the children went, only that they’d been found a permanent safe haven.
This time, the agent was Brody Paine. And it was his opinion that ruled, whether she considered him paranoid or not.
The footsteps outside in the hall sounded louder. “I’ll pull some more work together for her. Want me to drive it out to you?” The safe house where Brody was staying with Megan was located about fifteen miles out of town. Located midway between nothing and more nothing.
“I’ll pick it up sometime tomorrow.”
She frowned a little, not liking the alarm that was forming inside her. “Brody—”
“Appreciate your help, Sarah. You’re a good teacher.” He severed the connection.
She slowly replaced the receiver. When she lifted her gaze to the doorway, though, Max Scalise stood there. The sight so surprised her that she actually gasped.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Denying she had been would be foolish. She drew her hand back from the telephone and eyed him. “What are you doing here?”
His eyebrows rose a little. He wore the typical uniform of brown jacket and pants, his radio and badge hanging off his heavy belt that could also sport a weapon and a half-dozen other items, but currently didn’t.
She realized her gaze had focused on his lean hips though, and looked back at his face.
“You left me a message, remember?”
“Barely five minutes ago. I didn’t expect you to show up here.”
He closed the remaining distance between them and picked up the gleaming porcelain apple that she’d been given by a student at the end of last year. “What’d you want to see me about?”
She hadn’t wanted to see him at all. “Eli cheated on his math test today.”
His gaze sharpened on her face. “Eli doesn’t cheat.”
She pushed back from her chair and stood. Sitting there while he towered over her desk just put her at too much of a disadvantage. “Well, he did today. And he did yesterday. During the spelling test. He also tried to turn in another student’s homework as his own.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, making the angular line even more noticeable. It was only one in the afternoon, yet he already had a blur of a five o’clock shadow. “He doesn’t need to cheat,” he said flatly.
According to her conversation with Eli’s last school, that had been the story, too. Eli’s grades hadn’t been as high as they could be, but they’d been solid. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.” She pulled out a slightly wrinkled piece of notebook paper and pointed at the corner where pencil marks had clearly been erased and overwritten with Eli’s name.
“Any kid could have done that.”
She exhaled and reminded herself that Max wasn’t the first parent who didn’t want to acknowledge some imperfection about their child. “Any kid didn’t. Eli did.”
He tossed the paper back on the desk. “Look, I know his first day here wasn’t the best. But he’s promised me that every day since he’s been on his best behavior.”
“And you believe him, unquestioningly?”
“He’s my son.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. How well she knew that. “Yes, and it doesn’t change the facts,” she finally said, and hated that the words sounded husky. She cleared her throat. “Why don’t we three meet together, later. After school. And we can talk about it then.”
“I don’t have time after school.” He replaced the apple on the desk. “Maybe Eli would be better off with a different teacher.”
Her fingers curled. “I’m the only third grade teacher here.”
For the first time, he showed some sign of frustration. He pushed his long fingers through his short hair, leaving the black-brown strands rumpled. “Damn small town,” he muttered.
Defensiveness swelled inside her. “You’re the one who came back here, Max. Lord only knows why, after all this time.” She felt the warmth in her cheeks and knew they probably looked red.
“I came for my mother’s sake.”
The dam of discretion she ordinarily possessed had sprung a leak, though. “How admirable of you. It’s been once in…how long? Twenty years?” The last time he’d been in Weaver, she’d been all of six years old.
His lips tightened. “Twenty-two years, actually.”
“Like I said.” Her lips twisted. “Admirable.”
“I’m not here to argue with you, Sarah. What happened in California between you and me was a long time ago.”
Seven years. Four months. A handful of days. “If you think I’m holding the fact that you dumped me against your son, you’re way off the mark.”
“I didn’t dump you.”
She gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s exactly what you did. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I never even think about it.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Then why the hell are you so angry?”
Her lips parted, but no answer came. She’d gotten over angry a very, very long time ago. But the hurt?
That was a much harder row to hoe. Chock-full of boulders and stone-hard dirt.
“Maybe I just don’t understand why my uncle thought you’d be a good choice for deputy,” she finally said.
His well-shaped lips thinned. “I am not my father.”
“No, he just rustled Double-C cattle. You rustled—” She broke off, her face flushing again.
“Rustled what?” He planted his hands on the desk that stood between them and leaned over it. “You?”
She would have backed up if there hadn’t been a wall right behind her. “There’s not anything in Weaver that’ll hold your interest for long. I think you’ll get bored stiff catching the occasional speeder and settling disputes between Norma Cleaver and her neighbor over her dog barking at night, and