Page 91 of Billionaire Protector

“That you aremine.”

* * * *

“It’s not Donovan.”

The denial was quick, firm and definitive, starkly absent of second thought. No matter Sarah’s logic, Cole knew Donovan was not the criminal.

“It has to be him.” Sarah slapped her hand on the table, shaking the coffee mug and spraying droplets of hot liquid on his wrist. Though it burned, he didn’t flinch. He’d learned long ago to hide his pain.

“Sorry.” She wiped the amber liquid with a napkin, then threw the soggy remains under the clock that tick-tocked like a snail out for its morning stroll. They’d been discussing the case for an hour as she tried to convince him of the deputy’s guilt.Yet no matter how many arguments she gave, nothing changed. Donovan wasn’t the arsonist.

She braced both hands on the Formica surface. “It’s just so obvious. The only motive we’ve got is framing me, and who else but Donovan would benefit? He’s fought me from the moment I was hired, trashing me to anyone and everyone who would listen. His job made it easy to arrange the fires when I wouldn’t have an easy alibi. Plus, he found the earring!”

She was right – the evidencewasthere. But he’d known Donovan for almost as long as he’d known Sarah, and every instinct swore it wasn’t him. Donovan had been a stickler for the rules growing up, even more than him. He’d never commit such a serious crime.

Plus, there was another reason, even more compelling. Only it was not his secret to share. “You’re right, it does seem obvious. But it’s not him. He would never do anything like that.”

Sarah swore softly. “I appreciate your loyalty, but this is my life. I have to confront him. He’s not just my best lead – he’s my only lead.”

Despite his beliefs, she was right. On possibly her last night as sheriff, she deserved the chance to clear her name. “We’ll go together.”

Although she didn’t smile, her features softened. “Thank you,” she said simply, as he reached out and took her hand. She looked down at their joined fingers. “This is kind of nice.”

“Kind of nice?” He smiled at her. “I’m losing my touch.”

Now she returned the smile, along with a blush, despite the tense situation. “I just meant it’s nice to have someone behind me.”

“I’ve always been behind you, Sarah,” he spoke gently. And he had. All those years when he’d chastised her, he hadn’t been exacting revenge or pursuing justice, but trying to help. He hadn’t realized she’d always taken care of herself.

“I can see that now.” She stood, showed the strength he loved. “Are you ready to catch a criminal?”

“Absolutely.”

Even if it wasn’t the culprit she sought, the real criminal was out there, scheming, hiding, undoubtedly planning more. Together they would catch him and bring him to justice. “Let’s go.”

Like every trip within the boundaries of Harmony Creek, the ride to Donovan’s house was short and quick. The deputy lived on several wooded acres, in a rustic log cabin he’d built himself. They parked next to his old green pickup and strode to the front door. Sarah gave three swift knocks on the stained black wood.

The door flung open, spilling stark light through the entrance. Dueling glares collided as the would-be arsonist stood tall in the doorway, his expression thunderous. “What are you doing here?” Donovan scowled. He turned to Cole and stiffened. “What areyoudoing here?”

Cole bristled. “Is that any way to talk to your boss?”

Donovan growled lowly. “With all due respect, the sheriff won’t be my boss for much longer. Plus, I prefer not to interact with criminals, especially those who commit arson.”

“What a coincidence,” Sarah spat. “I feel the same way.”

Donovan’s eyes narrowed, as he swiveled his gaze from Sarah to Cole. “Fine. You want to talk? Come in and let’s talk.” He opened the door wide. “I’m here to listen if you’re ready to give your confession.”

Cole put his hand on Sarah’s back as they walked into a great room with thick rugs, hand-carved furniture and rich paintings of wildlife. Despite the southern climate, Donovan eschewed air conditioning for fresh air in the evenings, scenting the space with sweet pine and oak. Cole had always admired Donovan’s home, but today he barely gave it a glance.

His friend pivoted and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want?”

“Actually, you guessed right the first time,” Sarah spoke with booming confidence. “I’m here for a confession, only not mine.”

Donovan’s face twisted with derision. He turned to Cole, and his features froze. “Wait. It can’t be-”

Cole held out his hands. “Not me, buddy. You know me better than that.”

The slightest edge of relief softened Donovan’s features before confusion took over. “Then who–” He stopped. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

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