Broken Trust. Sharon Dunn
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insert foot. His attempt at friendly conversation had had the opposite effect of what he had hoped. “I didn’t mean anything by my comment. I am sure you and Christine do a great job.” Did the young deputy know about the FBI disaster ten years ago? She couldn’t be more than in her early twenties. Maybe she was from around here and had been a kid when the whole thing had happened.
Deputy Mitchell maintained a stiff-shouldered stance. “Christine is a good officer. She got elected by a huge majority. With all her experience and training, we’re lucky to have her, and I know the extra income helps her out since Dustin died.”
A lump caught in Wyatt’s throat. Dustin was dead. As the shock spread through him, he struggled to keep his tone neutral. “Where did Christine go, anyway?” Confusion made it hard for him to think what he should do next. Christine wasn’t under obligation to give him an update on her life, but she’d had opportunity at the farmhouse to tell him and hadn’t.
“She went to drop some paperwork off over at the courthouse, and then she was going to the school for her daughter’s choir program.” Deputy Mitchell looked at the clock. “She should be headed up that way now. It’s just two blocks over and around the corner.”
The news about Dustin was like a tornado whirling through him. He managed a casual response. “Great, I’ll see if I can catch her.”
Christine buttoned her light coat against the spring chill. The morning had not been very productive. She kept staring at the door and wondering what Wyatt was doing. She hated herself for not being able to free herself from thoughts about him. She’d been young and naive when she’d first met him. How could he still have an emotional hold on her?
Despite being older and wiser, all the emotions that had kept her hanging on in a dead-end relationship ten years ago had coursed through her like a dam breaking the moment she’d seen him. The way she felt around him made her afraid of losing control. There’d been an opportunity to tell him about Dustin, but she had needed the safeguard of him thinking she was still a married woman.
Christine shoved her hands in her pockets as the high school came into view. The building that housed the lower grades and Eva’s kindergarten was just beyond that.
Maybe she was still feeling vulnerable. It had only been a year and a half since Dustin’s accident. Wyatt had probably had twenty girlfriends in the past ten years. The man was a rascal.
It would be easy enough to just let Deputy Mitchell assist him if he needed it. That would solve all her problems. Once Wyatt saw that the feds were looking in the wrong place, he’d be gone.
She heard footsteps behind her and glanced back. Wyatt ran to catch up with her. “Can’t this wait, Wyatt? I’m on my way to see Eva’s choir program.”
“I’ll walk with you. Just give me a minute.” He reached out and gripped her arm just above the elbow. He held her in his gaze like a laser locked on a target. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it.
What was he struggling to say? He hadn’t let go of her arm, and even through the thickness of the coat, she felt herself responding to his touch and remembering what it was like to be held by him. She managed a businesslike tone. “So did you find anything in the files that was helpful?”
“One of your reports was about confiscating a shotgun with the barrel sawed off.”
His reading of the reports had been very thorough, but they didn’t give the full picture. “Angus is an old man. He didn’t even know that what he was doing was illegal.”
“It’s my only lead. Who else does he know? Who does he hang out with?”
“I had procedural obligation to file a report on Angus.” A lump formed in her throat. “The Bureau researches behavior from sunup until sundown. But if you truly know someone, you know if they are capable of a crime.” She planted her feet. “Don’t make me point the finger of guilt at that old man.”
Wyatt spoke in almost a whisper. “His activity looks suspicious. Buying weapons and altering them is suspect.”
“On paper, yes, but I know Angus. I know his heart. I know his history, and that counts for something around here.” She turned away from him. “I’m sorry it’s not the lead you were hoping for.”
A noise from the parking lot caused them both to turn. Christine saw a flash of red as Randy Stiller ran away from an older-model car. Randy had been in trouble more than once. Christine had promised Randy’s mother she’d keep an eye on him. What was he up to now? “Randy, hey.” The boy stopped and made eye contact. The guilty look on his face told her everything she needed to know. The kid was up to something. “Stop right there, Randy.” She stepped out into the parking lot and chased after him.
She’d gone ten paces when an explosive boom surrounded her. A force of wind and heat threw her backward. Debris flew around her. Metal clattered as her body impacted with hard concrete. Everything went dark.
THREE
Even before the last piece of metal clattered to the ground, Wyatt dived into the fiery aftermath of the car bomb. He inhaled thick smoke, coughing.
He registered the fire that shot out from what remained of the car and heard the cacophony of panicked voices around him. But all of the noise and mayhem was like a radio turned down low. All he could see, all he could think about was Christine. The blast had tossed her sideways and now she lay motionless, forty feet from the burning car.
She wasn’t moving. The percussive thrum of his heart beating in his ears blocked out all other sound as though he were in a tunnel that led directly to her. He ran. Feet pounding pavement. He dived to the ground beside her and felt for a pulse at her neck.
She was alive.
With his hand still cupping her cheek, he leaned closer. She looked so pale and lifeless. “Christine, can you hear me?”
No response.
Dear God, let her be okay.
He jerked back when he saw the blood soaking through the collar of her torn coat.
A hand squeezed his shoulder. “What can I do?” The voice was calm, authoritative.
He looked up into the eyes of an older man in a suit. “She needs medical attention now.”
“The hospital is just down that way.” The older man pointed. “I can call.”
“How far is it?” He could see the two-story white building with the blue symbol for hospital over the other buildings.
“Three blocks. One down, two to the west.”
“It would be faster if I took her.” He lifted Christine. She was like a rag doll in his arms. He turned, finally able to absorb what was going on around him. A crowd had formed on the sidewalk not far from the burning car. “Do you work here?”
“I’m the principal of the high school. Is Christine going to be okay?”
Wyatt didn’t stay around to answer the question. Holding Christine close to his chest, he ran across the lot toward the sidewalk. Without slowing his pace, he crossed the street, grateful that the hospital was clearly marked.
Christine moaned. She opened her eyes. Her gaze was unfocused.
Still running and out of breath, Wyatt looked down at her. He could lose her. So much had gone unsaid between them. “Just for the record—” he gasped for air “—I did love you. I just didn’t know how to say it.”
As quickly as she had opened them, her eyes closed. He was only yards from the hospital entrance.
A woman in a nurse’s smock and a man stood outside the door. When they saw Wyatt coming, they pushed a gurney toward him.
The nurse spoke. “Principal Slater phoned ahead. Put her on this, and we’ll get her inside.”
He laid Christine’s