Page 12 of Dusty
Douglas nodded slowly. “You think she’s in witness protection? Running from an abusive ex? Or something more complicated?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t need to ask,” Dusty’s frustrated reply sounded terse, his eyes drifting to the dining room window where he could see Sharon helping Ms. Patti place platters loaded with food on the table. “The fingerprints from the car came up empty in the state database. I didn’t want to run them through AFIS, only local…”
“Because that would leave a digital footprint,” Douglas finished. “Smart. You’re thinking whoever’s after her might have access to law enforcement systems.”
“It’s a possibility.” Dusty lowered his voice further. “The car I suspect she was driving before I picked her up outside townwas stolen, but I’d swear she’s no common thief. Let’s be honest, we don’t know she was driving the car, but simple deductive reasoning makes it a logical assumption. She’s educated, carries herself with confidence despite being scared out of her mind, and the lack of calluses on her hands don’t match up with the kind of manual labor she claims to have done.”
“You’ve been paying close attention,” Douglas observed with a slight smirk.
“It’s my job,” Dusty answered, perhaps too quickly.
“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with those big brown eyes and the way she looks at you like you might be her salvation.”
Dusty felt his neck grow warm. “I need to know if she’s dangerous, Douglas. To the town. To your family.”
To me.
Douglas’s expression sobered. “I’ll make some calls. Got a buddy who owes me a favor or three. He can run her prints quietly, look for any red flags without setting off alarms.”
“I appreciate it,” Dusty said, relief evident in his voice.
“But, Dusty, be careful. Not just physically. Whatever that woman is running from has her scared enough to reinvent herself. Change her name. Probably her appearance too, as much as she could without undergoing surgery. People that desperate can be unpredictable.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Douglas challenged. “Because from where I’m standing, you look like a man who’s already halfway to being compromised.”
Before Dusty could respond, the screen door creaked open, and Sharon herself stepped onto the porch. She paused when she saw them, uncertainty clear on her face.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said softly. “Ms. Patti sent me to tell you dinner’s on the table and she doesn’t want it getting cold.”
“No apology needed,” Douglas said smoothly. “We were just catching up on a couple of business issues.” He gave Dusty a pointed look before heading inside, pausing briefly to offer Sharon a reassuring smile.
Left alone on the porch, Dusty and Sharon stood in awkward silence for a moment. The sun cast soft shafts of sunlight across her features, highlighting flecks of amber in her brown eyes.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked. “Really okay?”
She seemed taken aback by the directness of the question. “I’m…better. The nightmares aren’t as frequent.”
The admission surprised him. It was the first time she’d acknowledged anything about her past, even obliquely.
“I want to help you, Sharon,” he said softly. “Whatever you’re running from—”
“Don’t. Please, just…don’t ask questions you know I can’t answer. I can’t give you the answers you want to hear.”
“What makes you think I don’t want to hear the answers?”
She looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt exposed under her gaze. “Because knowing puts you in danger. And I—” she paused, swallowing hard, “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. To any of you.”
The sincerity in her voice struck him. Whatever else she might be hiding, that fear was genuine.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he promised, stepping closer. “Not to me, not to anyone in this town. And not to you. Not while I’m around.”
For a moment, he thought she might say more, might finally open up. Instead, her walls came back into place, visible in the straightening of her shoulders and the careful blank expression that slid over her features, the familiar mask firmly in place.
“We should go in,” she said, her voice once again controlled. “Everyone’s waiting.”
As they walked back inside, Dusty felt the weight of what he’d just committed to. He’d promised protection without knowing what he was protecting her from. It wasn’t just unprofessional—it was potentially dangerous. He wasn’t sure what she was hiding. What if she was a criminal? Were the feds searching for her? He hadn’t seen any bulletins come across his desk, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t wanted by one of the alphabet groups.
