Page 9 of Dusty
“Appreciate it.” Dusty stepped inside, careful to maintain a respectful distance as he entered. “Nice place, isn’t it? Ms. Patti and Douglas keep it up well, considering how old it is.”
Sharon followed him as he moved through the cottage with the confidence of familiarity. “You’ve been here before?”
“Helped Douglas replace the roof last spring,” he said, heading straight for the kitchen and the back door beyond. “The Boudreaus bought the place recently from Old Man Johnson. He used it for years as a rental property, and Ms. Patti’s company managed the place, did upgrades and repairs. For the last couple of years, it’s housed several women who are now engaged and/or married to Boudreau men. It’s also a good place for folks who need a place to catch their breath.”
That phrase again, the same one Tessa had used. Sharon watched as Dusty set his toolkit on the kitchen counter and examined the back door.
“Tessa mentioned she stayed here once,” Sharon said cautiously.
Dusty nodded, running his hand along the door frame. “Before she was a Boudreau. That was a rough time. Rafe was beside himself trying to keep her safe.” He glanced back at Sharon. “Small towns are good for that—keeping people safe…when they let us.”
The pointed comment hung in the air between them. Sharon crossed her arms defensively. “I didn’t ask for help.”
“No, ma’am, you sure didn’t.” Dusty turned his attention back to the door, testing its swing. It wasn’t hard to see where the door caught on closing, heard the slight creak in the hinges.
Sharon felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I don’t like police.”
“Most folks who’ve been running for a while don’t.” He said it matter-of-factly, without judgment, as he dug in his toolkit for a screwdriver. “This door’s got a simple problem. Hinges need tightening, and the frame’s shifted a bit with the seasons. Normal for a place this old.”
Sharon watched him work, struck by the incongruity of a uniformed deputy performing such a mundane task, something a handyman would normally accomplish. “Isn’t this below your pay grade, Deputy?”
Dusty let out a low chuckle that did something unexpected to Sharon’s pulse. “In Shiloh Springs, everybody pitches in. Especially for Ms. Patti. Besides,” he glanced up, his hazel eyes meeting hers directly, “it gave me an excuse to check on you.”
“I don’t need checking up on.” The protest sprang from her lips before she could stop it.
“No?” He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Is that why you look like you haven’t slept properly in weeks until today? Why your hands shake when you think no one’s looking? Why you’ve got at least two escape routes planned from every room in this cottage already?”
Sharon stiffened, shocked he’d been able to read her so easily from one simple meeting. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Know enough.” He returned to adjusting the door hinges. “Know you’re scared. Know you’re smart—smart enough to have stayed ahead of whoever’s after you. Know you’re exhausted.” He glanced at her again. “And I know that sooner or later, everybody needs help. Even people who think they’re better off alone.”
The perceptiveness of his assessment was unsettling. Sharon moved to the kitchen window, putting more distance between them as she gazed out at the darkening yard. “I’ve found that help almost always comes with strings attached.”
“Not in Shiloh Springs, and especially not from the Boudreaus.” Dusty tested the door again, nodding with satisfaction when it swung smoothly. “Perfect. That should hold for a while.”
He put his tools away, wiping his hands on a rag from his back pocket. In the confined space of the kitchen, he seemed taller than she remembered, broad-shouldered and solid in a way that should have made her nervous, but didn’t.
“Ms. Patti asked me to tell you that Douglas will be by tomorrow if there’s anything else that needs fixing around here,”he said before grinning, a twinkle in his eyes belying a spark of humor. “And that you’re invited to Sunday dinner at their place if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Sunday dinner?” The concept seemed so normal, so ordinary, Sharon almost laughed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Your call.” Dusty picked up his toolkit. “But Ms. Patti’s cooking is worth risking a lot for. And the Boudreau place is the most secure home anywhere in this county, possibly in the whole state. Douglas was military security before he started the construction business. Man takes safety seriously, especially Ms. Patti’s.”
Sharon absorbed this information, filing it away with the other pieces she was gathering about Shiloh Springs and its inhabitants. She’d bet there was more to the Boudreau story about simple military security for the ranch being the most secure place in Shiloh Springs, especially after meeting Ms. Patti. She seemed like a local treasure, one that would and should be kept safe at all costs.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.” Dusty moved toward the front door, then paused. “One more thing.”
Sharon’s blood ran cold. “Deputy—”
He held up a hand. “Calm down. I’m not here to cause trouble. Just wanted you to know there was an abandoned car found several miles from where I picked you up this morning. Reported stolen from San Antonio a couple days ago. Which means if that’s the car you were driving, it’s a stolen vehicle.” He held up his hand when she started to interrupt. “I’m not saying that’s the car you claimed broke down and that’s why you were walking into town. I simply wanted to let you know that as a stolen vehicle, it’s going to be checked overthoroughly, including fingerprints being run by the CSI team.” His expression remained composed, professional.
Sharon felt her carefully constructed world tilting. If they ran her prints, they might find her real identity, but worse, a check of the national database would alert Cooper of where she was.
“What happens if they find prints?”
“We’ll run them through the state database, see if we get any hits.” He shrugged. “Stolen cars aren’t a top priority. The San Antonio police will notify the owner the car has been found, who’ll deal with their insurance company. Chances are good the owner will simply come pick it up or have it towed. I didn’t notice any damage, so it shouldn’t go any further than that. Finding car thieves is usually difficult anyway.”
