Page 1 of Dusty
CHAPTER ONE
The Christmas lightsseemed to continue springing up across Shiloh Springs every day since Thanksgiving. Every time Dusty Warner drove through downtown, it seemed like more were added until you couldn’t turn around without glistening white, brilliant red, and glittering green bulbs blinking and twinkling like a soft promise of peace. Even houses on the outskirts of town were adorned with visible signs of the holiday spirit. Too bad he didn’t feel it. There was nothing about this time of year that cheered his spirits or made him feel bright and shiny. Most years, he simply wanted the holidays to be over and done with.
Something about tonight made him feel antsy. Nothing he could put his finger on, just a sense of anticipation, an instinct that something big was bound to happen before the end of his shift. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his patrol car, humming along to “Jingle Bell Rock” on the radio. This early in the morning, the darkness felt like a familiar embrace, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut that today wasn’t going to be an ordinary day.
The familiar landscape surrounding the town of Shiloh Springs, his small-town sanctuary, unfurled before him—quiet roads lined with ranch fences and the occasional silhouette of cattle grazing under the stars. Tall pine trees clustered along both sides of the roadway, most of it only wide enough for two lanes of traffic, one going in each direction. The town itself was a few miles away, and since it was getting close to dawn—and the end of his shift—he knew he’d find fresh coffee and maybe hotcinnamon rolls when he finished working. It was Saturday, and Jill atHow Sweet It Ismade his favorite breakfast treat on the weekends. His stomach growled at the thought of the hot, gooey center of one of her yeasty rolls, smothered in decadent cream cheese frosting, and he decided it was close enough to the end of his shift to turn around and head back toward town.
He couldn’t help smiling as he watched the headlights of his cruiser flash across the fenceposts, the occasional bovine moving close enough to the roadside to catch his attention. This was his life—predictable, steady, and far removed from the chaos of his childhood—exactly the way he liked it. To everyone in Shiloh Springs, he was simply Dusty Warner, their easygoing deputy sheriff.
Nobody knew the weight he’d carried around for nearly two decades: the crushing disillusionment of being America’s golden boy, a child TV star with his own sitcom that made the highest ratings for his network, or the cost of stardom that had nearly swallowed him whole, and he liked it that way. They didn’t need to know. The badge pinned to his chest gave him purpose, the town gave him anonymity, and he intended to keep it that way.
Ready to make a U-turn and head back to town, movement near the brush on the side of the road caught his eye, and he slowed to a crawl. It wasn’t an animal—the movement was too deliberate. It was too big to be the stray that was driving Rafe crazy, the movements too jerky to be a cow that got out of its pasture. Narrowing his focus, he slowed down further, easing his foot off the accelerator, and spotted a figure crouching in the dark.
Who in their right mind would be hiding on the side of the road in this cold?
His hand instinctively moved to the flashlight resting in the console, placing it on his lap. Easing the cruiser to the side of the road, Dusty’s heart rate quickened slightly as he steppedout of the car, directing the bright light mounted on the patrol car toward the area where he’d spotted movement. Its powerful beam shone on a woman, disheveled, alone, and clearly out of place. Something about the whole situation felt off.
“You alright, ma’am?” he called, keeping his voice even and pleasant. The woman straightened, her face pale in the stark beam of his flashlight and the diffused headlights of his squad car. Her clothing looked worn, her coat too thin for the chill in the air. Even here in Texas they got cold snaps and today, the temps had dropped into the low twenties.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” she said, though her voice trembled. Dusty heard the lie behind her words as clearly as he saw the exhaustion etched on her features. Who was she, and what was she running from? How had she ended up on the road to Shiloh Springs?
The need to protect—a reflex honed by years of law enforcement under Sheriff Rafe Boudreau—stirred in him. He approached slowly, gauging her reaction. She didn’t bolt, but her wide eyes tracked his every move like a cornered animal.
“You’re not from around here,” he observed.
“No,” she admitted, arms clutching her torso as if to shield herself.
Dusty’s gut told him she wasn’t dangerous, but she was in trouble and needed help. That was a problem he could do something about. “I’m Deputy Warner,” he said gently. “Let me help you.”
Her hesitation was palpable, the tension in the air between them thick enough he could almost touch it. Everything, from the way she shifted her weight, torn between trust and flight, showed she was on a knife’s edge. Every instinct he had screamed for him to keep her from fleeing. Whatever she was running from, it had driven her into the freezing night—and straight into his path.
The bright glareof headlights pierced Sharon Elliott’s vision, and her stomach dropped. She froze in place, every nerve screaming for her to run. But her legs refused to obey, heavy with exhaustion and defeat. She’d been walking forever, every sound, every motion making her jump. Her body was on the verge of collapse, and if this was one of Cooper’s men, she was dead anyway. Except it couldn’t be one of Cooper’s people, because he was driving a sheriff’s cruiser, and Cooper didn’t have any people working for him in Central Texas, at least none she knew about. Of course, with his money and connections, she knew his reach stretched far, so she couldn’t be sure of anything. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to stay alert—not that she could outrun a turtle at this point; she was just too tired and hungry.
The man who had stepped out of the car radiated an aura of calm authority, his tan uniform crisp against the dark backdrop of the night. Sharon clutched her coat tighter around her body, feeling for the envelope hidden in the inside pocket of her coat, the last shred of her innocence. The rest was hidden, safe from Cooper’s clutches, but she’d needed something she could hold in her hands, something tangible. A touchstone to keep her sane, to remind her of why she needed to persevere. Because she was afraid this nightmare might be all in her head. Everybody had turned against her, sure she was guilty of the things her company accused her of—except she wasn’t. The only thing she was guilty of was believing the man she was engaged to, the man who’d betrayed her and set her up to take the fall for all his crimes. But she kept one thing with her: her salvation, which kept her putting one foot in front of the other, keeping her one step ahead of the Feds who were chasing her, and the menCooper sent to find her or eliminate her before she could use the evidence to clear her name.
She hadn’t come this far, endured so much, to have it ripped away by a well-meaning peace officer. When he spoke, the words barely registered over the rush of blood pounding in her ears. Her mind scrambled for an excuse, a story that would sound plausible enough to satisfy his questions. “My car broke down,” she stammered, the words tumbling from her lips before she could overthink them. “I thought maybe I could walk into town.”
The deputy frowned, his eyes searching hers with unsettling perceptiveness. “In this cold? You’re lucky you didn’t freeze,” he said. “Let me give you a ride somewhere safe.”
Safe.
She almost laughed at the irony. There was no such thing for her anymore, not with her ex-fiancé pulling the strings and fabricating evidence to frame her. Not with law enforcement looking for her in every city and town she’d stopped at, determined to find her, convict her of crimes she didn’t commit.
Did the officer standing before her so confident, so friendly and assured, know who she was? Was he another one of the men who’d be happy to turn her over to Cooper, simply because he’d made sure the accusations he’d tossed her way stuck due to the falsified evidence? As much as she wanted to trust this stranger, she’d grown leery of believing anyone with an offer of help and a smile, only to find out they’d willingly stab her in the back for a couple of bucks.
But she had no choice except to go with the officer standing before her. If she refused his help, it would arouse suspicion, and that’s the last thing she needed at this point. One wrong step and Cooper Madison’s men would find her. Studying his face, she noted the strong jawline, the dusting of sandy-colored hair from beneath his cowboy hat. Nodding slowly, she swallowed her fear.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Can you tell me your name, ma’am?”
“Um, Sharon. My name’s Sharon…Elliott.” She gave him her name, hesitating slightly before her last name, changing it to her mother’s maiden name. It wouldn’t fool anybody for long if they had any computer experience and did a bit of digging, but it might buy her enough time to get out of town before Deputy Warner dug too deep.
“Okay, Miss Sharon, let’s get you into the car. I’ll turn the heat up and get you warm in no time.”
Climbing into the passenger seat, she pulled the seatbelt across her body with hands stiff from the cold. Within seconds, the tall stranger slid behind the wheel of the cruiser and adjusted the heat, and she almost groaned at the feel of warm air hitting her sensitized skin. She was so cold. It seemed like forever since she’d been warm. The last place she could remember was the women’s homeless shelter, where she’d spent a couple of nights before Cooper’s men caught up to her. She’d ended up sneaking away in the dead of night and done something she never thought she’d do—stolen a car.
It had been a crummy old hunk of junk, an older model, and she’d had no idea what she was doing, but she’d pulled a handful of wires from beneath the dash and did what she’d seen a thousand times in the movies and on television, fumbling with the wad of different colored wires, and somehow she’d managed to get it started. Unfortunately, the heat hadn’t worked, and the passenger side window didn’t roll up all the way, so she’d been freezing for hours. Still, it had gotten her away from San Antonio and Cooper’s men, which made it a golden chariot as far as she’d been concerned.
