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What She Saw
Rachel Lee
If he was murdered, you're the loose end.Waitress Haley Martin has made a small, safe life for herself: no big surprises, no falling in love. In one night, that calm world is shattered. A truck driver is dead, a sexy former military cop needs her help to solve the murder, and she might be next on the hit list.There's something big going down in this sleepy county. Buck Devlin needs to keep Haley close–and he's had worse cover stories than pretending to be in love with a beautiful blonde. But the more danger they expose, the harder it is to remember their love story is just a cover….



Buck’s strong arms wrapped around her, hauling her close.
She should have resisted, but that embrace felt so good, and those arms felt so strong and protective. It had been way, way too long since anyone had hugged her, and her throat tightened as she realized how much she had missed that kind of comfort.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured. “That much I can swear. Not one bad thing is going to happen to you.”
“You can’t promise that,” she said weakly into his shoulder. “Nobody can.” Life had certainly taught her that lesson the hard way.
“I can. It used to be my job. Nobody’s going to hurt you. They’ll have to get through me first.”
Conard County: The Next Generation
Dear Reader,
This book started as a game. I was having a terrible time coming up with a story idea, so a couple of friends and I played an improv game. One set a scene. Then each of us added to it, none of us being able to change what came before.
The game is called, “Yes, and…” Each subsequent person builds on what came before.
And while the game didn’t give me the whole idea, it raised a question: What did Haley see in the parking lot that was so dangerous?
From there other ideas occurred to me as I tried to answer that question. Among the things I wanted to do with this book, other than tell a suspenseful love story, was revisit Conard County in a way so many readers asked for. A lot wound up being cut for length, but I feel I’ve at least added to the sense of homecoming for those who asked for more.
I hope you enjoy What She Saw. Because what Haley saw bought her a whole peck of trouble and a whole lot of love.
Hugs,
Rachel

About the Author
RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve, and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

What She Saw
Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Chapter 1
Nothing hinted that a man would die that night.
Haley Martin arrived at the truck stop for her shift at eight in the evening. The place was open round the clock, and was busy enough at any hour because this was the only big truck stop for nearly a hundred miles in any direction.
Big enough for rigs to park and idle while drivers slept. Big enough to have hot showers and other amenities. And the restaurant itself was famous for good down-home cooking.
That night the lot was almost empty, but she knew this would change. Traffic always seemed to come in waves, maybe because the truckers liked to travel close together so they could keep in touch by radio and chat.
On her way in, she noticed two trucks parked back-to-back. That was unusual. They usually parked side by side. One of the trucks was smaller, a box truck, not a trailer rig like the other. It didn’t seem important, though, and she quickened her step so she wouldn’t be late. She’d taken a small role in a college play and the rehearsal had run over.
She liked the job. It was tiring, being on her feet for hours, but she liked it anyway. As a college student, it fit her perfectly, and when it got quiet the boss didn’t mind if she studied.
She was only taking one class this summer, and working full-time, but the class had more than an average amount of reading and homework, so a quiet night would be welcome.
She breezed inside, waving to the other waitress, Claire, an attractive thirtysomething redhead, and the skinny short-order cook and owner, Hasty. He tossed her a grin as she passed by on the way to her locker, then returned to his cooking.
After getting her purse and books stowed, she tied on her apron, starched and white, over her pink uniform, checked that her blond hair hadn’t escaped its bun, then punched the time clock and headed out to work.
“Coffee’s fresh,” Claire said as she returned to the restaurant. “It’s been slow since I got here at four.”
“That’ll change,” Hasty remarked as he slipped burgers onto buns and scooped them onto plates with fries. He turned and put them on the counter for Claire.
“Might as well study, Haley,” he said. “You’ll know when to hop.”
Yes, that was part of why she liked this job. Hasty seemed to care as much about her education as she did. But she also liked the truckers who came in here. Most of them were nice enough, and some even told great stories about the places they’d been.
There was one driver in particular, she thought as she went back to get her books and a cup of coffee. One guy who seemed to stand out, although she wasn’t exactly sure why. It wasn’t just that he was awfully good-looking, or that he seemed to have a body honed to hardness, unlike many other drivers who had been softened by the endless hours at the wheel.
No, it was something else, she thought as she took a seat by the window. Something about his manner. Quieter and more respectful than the others, not that many gave her a hard time. He was the only one who didn’t address her by name, even though it was plainly written on a badge above her breast. No, he always called her ma’am. And he tipped generously.
But that wasn’t it, either, she decided as she opened her book. It was his eyes. Dark, dark eyes that seemed to hint at danger while reflecting a good helping of sorrow.
Almost without fail, he was here three nights a week, and unless she was mistaken, tonight was his night. For some reason, she had begun to look forward to seeing him.
She chided herself. She’d already made up her mind that she wouldn’t let anything get between her and completing school, and there was nothing like a relationship to do that. She’d seen enough people drop out to get married. Besides, what did she know about him except that seeing him made her heart skip a beat? That he wasn’t married and drove a truck, and his last name, embroidered on his gray shirt, was Devlin. Not a whole lot, even for a fantasy.
Shaking her head at herself, she burrowed into her text. She was discovering very little real interest in diet and nutrition, maybe because she had had to juggle so many diets during her mother’s illness.
Interested or not, she still had fifty pages to read before class tomorrow, and there would probably be a pop quiz, plus the final loomed on Friday morning, so she dove in.
A noise from the lot caught her attention and she looked out through the plate-glass window. The brightly lit restaurant didn’t help her view any, nearly turning the glass into a mirror, and those two trucks she had noticed were parked at the far end of the lot in near darkness. But she heard a clang, and then squinted. Were those two trucks transferring something?
She stared for a minute, thinking that she saw a crate or two passing between them along a metal ramp, but unable to make out any real details.
What did it matter? Maybe something was scheduled to be off-loaded here. Just because she’d never seen it happen before didn’t mean it was unusual.
She turned her attention back to her book, but discovered her mind wanted to play games. She was acting in a mystery play, and the role had gotten to her enough that she sometimes found herself imagining nefarious things in ordinary activities. Like those two trucks out there.
Almost grinning to herself, she tried to return to nutrition. That was almost enough to put her to sleep.
About ten minutes later, the bell over the door sounded and two men entered. Goodness, was that Ray Liston? She hadn’t seen him since high school, after he’d had a run-in with the law. So he was a driver now.
She glanced over and saw Claire was busy with the table in the far corner. “I’ll get this, Claire.”
Claire waved her thanks, and Haley stood, going to the counter where the two men stood. “Can I get you guys something?”
“Two large coffees to go,” said Ray. Then his eyes brightened a bit. “Say, I knew you in high school.”
She pretended not to have realized it, though she didn’t know why. “Really? Oh! You’re Ray.”
He grinned. A tall, lanky guy with a thinly growing beard, he had crooked teeth. His family had always been dirt-poor, though, so no orthodontics for him. That poverty hadn’t made his school years any easier, and Haley had often felt a twinge of sympathy for him.
She felt Claire slip behind her to get to the coffeepot as she rang up the two coffees and accepted payment. “You’re driving now?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“Good for you. It’s a great job.” She couldn’t help noticing how the other driver, a short, burly man with a balding head, kept looking the other way, as if he were uncomfortable for some reason. Nervous? Shy? What did it matter? She shrugged it off.
Claire surprised her by reaching around her to put the two coffees on the counter in front of the men.
“Thanks, Claire,” she said as she closed the register.
“I was already here,” came the response as Claire slipped past her again and headed back to her customers, pot in hand.
“See you around?” Ray said, almost hopefully.
She had no interest in him, but she managed a smile. “Sure, nearly every time you come in here now.”
Ray laughed, then he and the other guy went to the condiment bar to add sugar and creamer to their coffees. A few seconds later they were out the door and headed across the lot.
Twenty minutes later, almost as if a signal had been sent, the lot started filling with the big rigs coming from the west, all of which had made a perilous trip over the mountains from the West Coast. She put her books away and went to work, hoping that the driver called Devlin would show up again.
He wasn’t in the first wave, and soon she was busy serving everything from burgers to breakfast—large stacks of pancakes, lots of eggs and home fries, and gallons of coffee. She joked and chatted with those who were feeling friendly tonight, and kept the coffee coming. Coffee was essential, and the restaurant had four double-drip coffeemakers working constantly.
Then the place started emptying out. She filled a dozen takeout cups with coffee, and listened as the throbbing engines revved up and began to roar out of the lot.
Sometimes she imagined getting on those rigs and traveling to places she’d never been, from Denver to Chicago to St. Louis. These guys were headed all over the map, and in a small way she envied them. They had to feel free, out there on the road, aside from the need to keep to a schedule. Maybe that was part of the charm.
Just as she and Claire finished wiping the last table clean, readying for the next wave, a police car pulled up out front. Haley didn’t immediately pay it much attention. Being the only all-night place operating around Conard City, they saw cops almost as often as they saw truck drivers.
But somehow, the instant Deputy Parish and Deputy Ironheart walked through the door, she knew this was no ordinary visit. They didn’t go to the counter. They looked around, then focused on her and Claire.
Both deputies were of Native American descent, with dark eyes and equally dark hair, except for Micah Parish, who was starting to show some gray streaks in his raven hair. She had known both of them nearly her entire life.
“Hi, ladies,” Sarah Ironheart said. “Can we talk to you?”
Haley felt her heart skitter. Something bad must have happened, but it hadn’t happened here. Her mind started running over anything that might have to do with her, and discarded possibilities as fast as they occurred. She lived in a cheap, run-down apartment and all she owned was a twelve-year-old car and a laptop computer. No, it couldn’t be something like that.
She and Claire dropped their cleaning rags in the bin and joined the deputies at one of the tables. Claire looked excited by the change of pace. Haley couldn’t help feeling dread.
Life had taught her to dread. Words from a doctor, words from a cop, they weren’t often good news.
Sarah Ironheart started, “We were wondering if either of you know Ray Liston.”
“I knew him in school,” Haley answered promptly. “Most everyone knew who he was. Is he in trouble?” At least this didn’t have to do with her.
At that moment, the deep throbbing of another rig alerted her and she looked out to see a solo truck pulling in. Her heart jumped a little, hoping it was the Devlin guy. Why had she gotten so attached to seeing him?
Sarah’s voice called her back. “Did he stop in here tonight?”
Claire looked at Haley for an answer.
Haley nodded. “He and another driver came in to pick up some coffee to go.”
“Did you talk to him? Did he seem all right? Alert, not under the influence of something?”
“He seemed fine, actually,” Haley said, thinking back. “He recognized me even though we hadn’t seen each other since high school. It wasn’t much of a conversation. I asked if he was driving now, he said he was, and I said I was glad he had such a good job. Something like that.”
“So you didn’t notice anything off about him?”
Haley shook her head. “No. Why? Did he get into trouble?”
Sarah sighed. “He ran his truck off the road about ten miles east of here.”
Haley’s hands tightened on the edge of the table. She felt her heart race with shock. At that moment Devlin walked through the door and headed to his usual table. “Customer,” she said almost automatically, still trying to absorb the news. Ran his truck off the road?
“He can wait,” Micah Parish said. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Buddy, can you wait a few?”
Devlin nodded. “No problem.”
God, he looked good, Haley thought. Better than usual, though she couldn’t say what it was about him. But she forced her attention back to the two deputies because another question, one she wasn’t sure she wanted answered, hammered at her. “Is he okay? Ray?”
Sarah and Micah exchanged glances. “No,” Micah said. “He’s dead. That’s why we need to know if you noticed anything at all unusual about him.”
“He seemed fine,” Haley repeated. “Not much different from high school, except maybe thinner. He’s dead? He’s really dead?”
It fully hit her then. A man she had been talking to a short time ago, a man she had known for her entire childhood, was dead. Tremors started to run through her and a tunnel seemed to grow around her vision.
“Focus,” Sarah said gently. “Focus, Haley. We need to know if you noticed anything at all unusual about Ray.”
“He seemed fine,” she repeated, hearing the flatness of her own voice. Her mind was trying to draw into a cocoon, she realized, just as it had when she first heard her mother’s diagnosis.
“So there was nothing off-kilter, nothing unusual?”
The restaurant, which had seemed to be receding, suddenly snapped into sharp focus as she remembered. “Not really. Not when he came in here. But beforehand…” She hesitated because it seemed so unimportant to a man’s death. An accidental death.
“What?” Micah prompted.
“I’m not sure exactly. When I came to work there were two trucks parked back-to-back. That’s unusual. They usually park side by side.”
“So he didn’t park normally.” Sarah scribbled something in a notebook.
“It’s probably meaningless,” Haley said. “It’s unusual, but there weren’t any other trucks out there at the time. They could have parked sideways for all it mattered. I thought I caught sight of them moving crates between the trucks. Just briefly, but I can’t be sure because it was so far away and with all the light in here, the parking lot isn’t easy to see.”
“Well, that wouldn’t have caused an accident farther down the road,” Sarah said and closed her notebook. “Thanks, Haley. If you think of anything else, just let us know, okay?”
“I will.”
The deputies rose, leaving immediately. Haley jumped up, still feeling shaken, but needing to take care of her favorite customer. Her favorite customer? What an odd thought, considering he didn’t talk all that much. But he was nice. Then it struck her that he never came in with the rest of the waves. He always came alone.
Move. She needed to move. She felt as if news of Ray’s death had tossed her brain like a salad, if only because she had once known him and he seemed so young to end this way. Keeping busy seemed like the only antidote.
She grabbed the freshest coffeepot, a cup and saucer, and headed for Devlin’s table. “Hi, Mr. Devlin,” she said, trying for a smile as she poured his coffee. “What’ll it be tonight?”
“An omelet with green peppers and onions, and rye toast, please.”
Unlike others, he never imagined she would remember his usual order. He always told her, and rarely did he change it.
“Coming up,” she said as cheerfully as she could.
Then he startled her by calling her by name. “Haley?”
She turned at once, surprised, and found those deep, dark eyes fixed on her. “Yes?”
“There was an accident?”
“Yeah. A truck went off the road east of here. One of your company’s, I think. At least it looked like your truck.”
He nodded slowly. “I heard some of what you said. Mind telling me about it?”
She hesitated, then decided there was no reason not to. The place was nearly a graveyard right now, and there was no reason not to chat for a few minutes.
“Sure,” she said. “Let me just put your order in. Want me to leave the coffeepot here?”
For the first time since she’d met him months ago, a faint smile touched the edges of his mouth and sparkled quietly in his eyes. It seemed to reach out and touch her, and made her tingle. “Sure. And bring a cup for yourself if it’s okay with the boss.”
Hasty, as usual, didn’t have a problem. “As soon as I make his meal, I’m heading out back for a smoke. Go ahead and take a break. Damn, ain’t that some news about Ray? Used to go to my church before the family fell away.”
After serving his meal, Haley got herself a cup and joined Devlin at the table. He stuck out a large hand. “Buck Devlin.”
She shook it. “Haley Martin.”
“Wild night, huh? Do you want something to eat?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, I’m okay. Hasty lets me eat whenever I want.”
“One of the perks of working here, I guess. He sure makes a great omelet.”
“You should try some of the other things on the menu sometime. He’s good at them all.”
Again that faint smile in the corners of his eyes. “So you’ve noticed I’m a creature of habit.”
“When it comes to what you eat here, anyway.”
“I guess it comes from all the years when I didn’t have any say about much.” He fell silent, eating his omelet, munching on a bite of toast. She refilled his cup when he half drained it.
“So,” he said a couple of minutes later, “you knew the driver who was in the accident?”
“I went to school with him. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a few years. Do you know him? It looked like he drives for the same company. His shirt was like yours and his truck, too.”
“I didn’t know him. I don’t spend a whole lot of time hanging around the terminal.”
“Oh.” She wondered what that meant about him. Maybe he didn’t have a whole lot of time between trips. Or maybe he wasn’t like the other drivers who, when they came in here, at least, seemed to crave the company of other drivers. He did seem self-contained.
“Must be a shock for you,” he said.
“I guess.” She hesitated. “I don’t know, Mr. Devlin—”
“Buck,” he interrupted.
“Buck,” she repeated obediently. “Honestly, I haven’t seen Ray in six years. It was a surprise to see him again tonight. I thought he’d left for good. So, yes, it was a bit of a shock, but not a huge one. If you know what I mean.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
Something about his face suggested he did.
“Maybe he fell asleep at the wheel,” she said when he remained quiet. “Not that he seemed sleepy or anything when he stopped in for coffee. But I guess it’s possible.”
“Could be. Some drivers push it too hard and too long.”
“I thought there were regulations about that.”
“There are. And for every regulation there’s a way around it. So…you said you saw him doing something before he came in here.”
She turned her coffee cup in her hands, looking down. Something about the intensity of his gaze made her a little self-conscious, like she should be patting her hair to make sure it hadn’t fallen from the bun she wore to work. “I’m not sure what I saw.” She nodded toward the window. “You can see how hard it is to see the lot from inside here. The odd thing was the way the two trucks were parked. Back-to-back. That’s something I haven’t seen before.”
“Anything else?”
She wondered why he was so curious about it when the cops seemed to think it irrelevant, but then figured there was no harm in telling him. He worked for the same company, after all. Maybe he figured the company would have some questions for him.
“Well, I was sitting at one of the tables studying when I heard a clanging. I glanced out and thought it looked like they were moving some crates around, like there was a ramp between the trucks. But honestly, Buck, I’m not sure. I wasn’t paying close attention and I couldn’t see clearly. I don’t see what that has to do with his accident, anyway.”
“Maybe nothing,” Buck said, returning to his meal. “How’s the pie?”
“I recommend the cherry cobbler tonight. Hasty makes the best in the world.”
His face suddenly blossomed into a smile, and the expression took her breath away. My God, he was gorgeous.
“Then I’ll break tradition and have some cobbler a little later. Tell me about yourself, Haley Martin.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m curious.”
Being the object of Buck Devlin’s curiosity made her heart skip a little. Why in the world would he be interested in her? But when she considered the story she had to tell, she figured the interest wouldn’t last. Not that it mattered, she told herself.
“Not much to tell,” she tried to say lightly. “I grew up here, I’ve never been farther from home than Laramie. My mother got cancer when I was a senior in high school, so I took care of her until she died last year. Now I’m going to the community college. A very boring little life. What about you?”
“Well, it hasn’t been boring,” he said, pushing his empty plate to one side. “Sometimes I think I’d like boring. Maybe that’s why I like driving so much. It’s peaceful.”
“Have you always been a driver?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Army. I traveled all over the world, but take it from me, it wasn’t the stuff you’d put on a postcard.”
“I suppose a lot of it wasn’t,” she said carefully, wondering if this man was troubled by nightmares. The notion gave her an unexpected pang.
She rose and went to get him a generous serving of the cobbler. She thought he was done talking with her, but instead he motioned her to join him again, his brow arched questioningly.
So she slid into the chair, refreshed her cup and waited to see what was going on. She didn’t think he was interested in her, particularly, but this was so out of character compared to the quiet way he usually came and went that her curiosity began to stir. Not to mention her hormones. She couldn’t evade her attraction to him, but it wouldn’t do her any good. It might cause her more problems.
“I’m going to Denver tonight,” he said. “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“What exactly do you do?”
“I carry shipments from Seattle to Denver. Usually there’s a load leaving Denver for Seattle. Tacoma’s a decent-sized port and a lot of stuff leaves there for Japan and other points east, and we get stuff from there in and out of our terminal.”
“What exactly do you carry?”
He smiled faintly. “A little of this and a little of that, honestly. Everything from bikes to camping gear to coffee. Coming back out of Denver it can be a mix, or it can be an entire container of something headed overseas. I’m not much interested in my loads. I just need to get them delivered in one piece.”
She nodded. “How is it coming over the mountains?”
“A thrill and a half when the load is heavy, that’s for sure.” He rose, pulling out his wallet and putting thirty dollars on the table. A huge tip for her.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days, Haley. Thanks for the company.”
She stood, too, ready to clear the table, sorry to see him go so quickly. But he never lingered. He had a schedule to keep. “Have a safe trip.”
“I intend to.”
Then he paused and said something that sent a chill to her very bones. He kept his voice low, so low she was sure Claire couldn’t hear from the other end of the restaurant. “Haley? Don’t mention what you saw in the lot tonight. Not to anyone. I’m going to check with my company, but…just don’t mention it to anyone.”
She stood frozen, wondering if that was a threat or a warning.
“Promise,” he said.
“I promise.”
He smiled again. “Good. I’ll talk to you when I get back. Stay safe.”
She watched him walk across the lot and climb into the cab of his rig. It was definitely a warning. But whatever for? The cops hadn’t even thought it important.
What in the world did he think might be going on?
Then she realized Claire had come to stand beside her. “Look out,” Claire said.
Haley tore her gaze from the truck that was now pulling out of the lot and looked at the other waitress. “What?”
“These guys are rolling stones, Haley, and we’re only a stop on a long road. Don’t waste any interest on them.”
She knew Claire was right. “He just wanted to ask some questions about what happened tonight. Same trucking company.”
“Sure.” Claire shook her head, but a wicked little grin seemed to dance around her mouth. “That’s why he was eating you up with his eyes.”
Haley couldn’t prevent the shiver of pleasure that ran through her. “Don’t be silly.”
“I saw it, and I’ve been around the block more than once.” Claire’s grin faded. “Just watch it, Haley. The guy’s probably got a life somewhere else.”
He most likely did, Haley thought as she cleared the table and wiped it, just as another wave started to arrive. She owed it to herself to keep her eyes on her goals. That was the only sure way to build a future for herself.
But throughout the night she kept remembering how good Buck Devlin looked, and how nice he’d been. And how she’d responded to him as a woman.
Oh, well. Claire was right. He was just another rolling stone.

Chapter 2
Two nights later, Haley raced into work, her face burning. Hasty was sitting at his stool behind the cash register and his eyebrows lifted. “What the heck happened to you?”
“Dress rehearsal is a great time to find out I must be allergic to stage makeup.”
Hasty’s jaw dropped and then he let out a belly laugh. “No!”
“Oh, yes. Is there any still left? I scrubbed it so much with cold cream, but it still burns.”
“I can’t see it, but dang, girl, you look like you spent too long in the sun.”
“And I have to do this again on Friday and Saturday night,” Haley answered. “I can’t believe this.”
“Can’t they let you use something else?”
“I’m not sure it would work. Besides, I never wear makeup because it’s an expensive waste of money. For all I know, I’m allergic to all of it.”
“Go back and wash up some more. I got some of those over-the-counter pills that might help. It’ll make you sleepy, though. Maybe you should just take the night off.”
“Not unless you think I look that bad. I got bills, remember?”
Hasty chuckled a little and shook his head. “Soap and water, then I’ll give you one of them little pink pills. If you’re slow tonight, I won’t hold it against you.”
Haley took his advice, scrubbing well with soap from the hand dispenser, and leaning close to the mirror to check for any remnants of makeup. She couldn’t find any, but her whole face looked red and just a bit puffy.
When she got back out front, Hasty and Claire were seated on opposite sides of the counter, drinking coffee and chatting. Claire took one look and shook her head.
“Can’t you get someone else to fill in for you? What do they call them? Understudies?”
“Not for my role. It’s too small. No, I’ll just have to get through this.”
She slid onto a stool beside Claire with a cup of coffee and accepted the pill Hasty popped out of a blister pack into her hand. “I didn’t know I was in trouble until after the rehearsal had started. I wanted to scratch my face off.”
“You need to be careful,” Claire said. “I had a cousin who had an allergic reaction and it put her in the hospital the second time she had it. The first time wasn’t that bad.”
“I should be able to get the makeup on and off in about fifteen minutes Friday night. And everybody knows what happened.”
“That’s good. They’ll know what’s going on if it gets bad. Maybe it would help to put some petroleum jelly on your face before the makeup.”
“That’s an idea. Thanks.”
Hasty poured himself some more coffee, then came back to lean his elbow on the counter. “Ray’s wake is tonight and tomorrow night. Funeral Friday morning. I’m thinking about going to the funeral.”
“I guess I should,” Haley said reluctantly. The last funeral she had been to was her mother’s, and she wasn’t sure she ever again wanted to see the inside of Meeker’s Funeral Home. “The wake, anyway. For a few minutes. I have a final Friday morning.”
“Ray had his troubles,” Hasty opined, “but the family’s never been a problem. Being poor ain’t a sin, despite what some think.”
“You’re talking to a couple of waitresses,” Claire said, a touch tartly. “We know.”
Hasty flashed a grin. “You girls get better tips than my day girls. They got you beat on poor.”
Claire sniffed. “Your day girls don’t work as hard. If they want more money, tell them to work nights.”
Hasty was still looking amused. “I think they get that.”
A short while later, the night’s first wave rolled in. Haley and Claire jumped to work, and after a little while, even though she noticed she was a little slower than usual, Haley felt her face calming down.
At least nobody asked her about it. She joked casually with some of the drivers, but it seemed like an oddly quiet night. She wondered if news about Ray’s death had gotten around and they were all feeling a little more sober than usual.
The place sure didn’t feel quite as energetic as it usually did when it was full. Or maybe that was the little pill Hasty had given her.
She was working her way back through her section, clearing some tables, handing out tickets and picking up cash and change, serving latecomers, when Buck Devlin walked in. It was so unusual to see him when the place was crowded that she froze for a split second. He got his usual table, though, despite the crowd, and she worked her way toward him.
It wasn’t easy. The night turned unusual in that another wave arrived before the first was done. Hasty was cooking with both hands as fast as he could, and Claire was looking a bit frazzled. What was going on?
Then someone asked her for directions to the funeral parlor and she knew: these men had heard about Ray’s death and that his wake started tonight. Whether they’d known him or not, at least some were going to pay their respects, however briefly.
Because of the hour, most ate quickly, then headed out to walk to the funeral home, only a couple of blocks away.
“Isn’t that something?” Claire murmured to her as they brushed past each other.
Haley nodded. It was the last thing she would have expected.
At last she made it to Buck’s table. By this point her apron was showing signs of wear and a tickle at her neck told her some of her hair had escaped from the bun.
“The usual?” she asked him.
“Not tonight,” he answered. “What do you recommend?”
“Anything,” she answered promptly. “It’s all good.”
“Then surprise me.” He smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Anything you don’t like or can’t eat?”
“I’ve never been picky.”
“You’re so helpful,” she said tartly. “I’m a waitress, not a wife. Pick something from the menu. I promise you’ll like it.”
So he pulled the plastic card from the holder. “You going to Ray’s wake?” he asked casually as he scanned the menu.
“Tomorrow night. I’m surprised so many drivers are going.”
“Yeah. They’ve been gabbing about it on the radio since it happened. It bothers them.”
“I guess I can see that. Did many of them know him?”
“I don’t know. But I do know it doesn’t make any sense.”
“When does it ever?”
He looked up and his eyes seemed to bore into her. “Something wrong?”
She caught herself, wondering why she was being so prickly. “Sorry.” Then a thought occurred to her. “I took an allergy pill. I guess it’s not agreeing with me.”
He nodded, dropped his gaze to the menu and said, “I’ll take the steak, medium rare, side of mashed potatoes and broccoli.”
She scribbled it down then tried for a lighter note. “A man who eats broccoli. I hope Hasty can remember how to cook it.”
“Nuke it for three if it’s frozen,” Buck said and winked. “Otherwise, I’ll take it raw.”
That drew a laugh from her and she felt some inexplicable tension seeping away. Maybe it was just from the unusual burst of traffic. She was used to one level of activity, but tonight had been almost double. Then there was her face burning up and the allergy pill. Enough to make her just a bit irritable.
Hasty remembered how to make the broccoli, of course. She carried the plates to Buck’s table, refilled his coffee and went to take care of the remaining handful of drivers. In another half hour, the place had quieted almost to desolation, and, one by one, trucks started pulling out of the lot. She figured that might be the last of them for a while if they’d hurried to get here for the wake.
“Time for a smoke break,” Hasty announced. “You gals take some time, too.”
“I’m joining you,” Claire said.
“You don’t smoke,” Haley remarked.
“I used to. And right now I want one.”
Hasty eyed Haley. “You going to be okay?”
“Like I can’t hold the fort for ten minutes?”
So the two of them headed out back. Which left her alone in the restaurant with Buck Devlin, who was taking his time with his steak.
“Join me,” he suggested. “It wouldn’t hurt to rest your feet.”
She supposed it wouldn’t. “Are you going to Ray’s wake, too?” She glanced at her watch. If she remembered correctly, wakes ended at nine, and it was already past that.
“Tomorrow night,” he answered.
All of a sudden everything zipped into clear focus. The faint fog left by the allergy pill was gone. Her heart even remembered how to speed up. “You’re staying in town?”
“Over at the La-Z-Rest. I’m on vacation.”
She almost gaped at him.
He caught the expression and his eyes danced a little. “What?”
“Why in the world would someone on vacation stay here?”
“Where would you go?”
“Any place. Denver. New York. Paris. Miami. I don’t know. Some place with things to do.”
“So you want action?”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that,” she admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with this place. I like it. It just doesn’t strike me as a vacation spot.”
“That’s because you live here. You can’t see its charm.”
A little laugh escaped her. “We roll up the sidewalks at nine, except for here and the roadhouses. You’re going to get bored.”
“I doubt it. It’s quiet here. I like that. Plenty of nice places to walk. I like that, too, especially when I spend so much time driving.”
She supposed she could see that. Maybe. “Well, if you’re into hiking, there are some nice mountains.”
“They probably look different when you’re not behind the wheel of a heavy rig,” he allowed.
“Well, I’ll be interested to see how long you last. Most people who visit here wonder how we can stand it.”
“What makes this place work for you?”
She thought about it. “People. Great people. There’s something nice about knowing almost everyone. But that’s not going to work for you.”
“Maybe not. We’ll see. It’s sure some pretty countryside.”
She looked down at the table and realized she didn’t believe him. She was right, nobody picked this place for a vacation. Not even someone who was tired of driving. People who vacationed here—and there weren’t a ton of them—came to camp up in the mountains and hike.
“So, looks like you got sunburned.” He pushed his plate to one side.
Suddenly self-conscious, she put her hand to her cheek. “I wish. No, I had a dress rehearsal for a play I’m doing at school, and I discovered I’m allergic to the stage makeup.”
A smile crooked one corner of his mouth. “I bet that’s miserable. And you have to do it again? When’s the play?”
“Friday and Saturday night.”
“I ought to come to see you.”
“I’m on stage for less than five minutes. You won’t see much. But it is good play, a mystery. One of the students wrote it.”
“I’ll definitely come.”
She laughed. “See, you’re already looking for stuff to do around here. If you stay long enough, you’ll go crazy.” She started to get up as she saw another truck pulling in.
But Buck stopped her by reaching out and touching her hand. The contact felt almost like an electric spark, a zap that ran through her entire body. Before she could react, he’d withdrawn his touch. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “About what happened to Ray. Not here, though.”
For the first time, a real shiver of uneasiness ran through her. What was going on? And why should she trust this guy she didn’t know? Was he some kind of stalker?
All of a sudden, she had major doubts about the kind of person Buck Devlin might be. About the danger he could represent.
“I don’t think so,” she said briskly and stood. “I don’t see customers outside of work. Ever.”
Then another driver came through the door, ending the conversation. For the first time, she was relieved to get away from Buck Devlin.
Haley felt a little silly for asking Hasty to walk her to her car. She didn’t tell him why, but she also couldn’t forget that Buck was in the motel just across the way. At least Hasty didn’t ask any questions. Maybe he didn’t think it unusual for a woman to get a little nervous from time to time about crossing that huge parking lot where almost anything could lurk.
And maybe it really wasn’t. All kinds of strangers came through that lot, people with no roots and ties here. Maybe she should have been afraid all along of walking out there alone in the dark. She just wasn’t used to thinking that way.
But Buck had made her think that way, and ever since she’d told him off, she’d been wondering if she had overreacted. He wasn’t the first driver to make a suggestion and he wouldn’t be the last. So what had set her off? Disappointment that he was no better? Or his reference to Ray?
She honestly wasn’t sure. Overreaction, she decided finally. She was still upset that someone she knew had died, her face was a mess because of an allergic reaction, she’d taken a pill that had left her feeling off-kilter all night and then Buck had wanted to talk to her away from work.
Well, it wasn’t the first time some driver had made that suggestion, but it was the first time she’d gone into hyperdrive over it.
Thinking back over it, she almost felt embarrassed. It wasn’t as if he was a total stranger, in the sense that he’d been coming into the place for many months now. People knew who he was and who he worked for.
Now if it had been some guy she’d never seen before, that might have been reason to get upset.
Or maybe she had reacted oddly because he said he was vacationing here. At the ends of the earth. At a truck stop surrounded by a small town and a lot of wide-open spaces and distant ranches. Most definitely not a place on most people’s vacation lists.
That, linked with Ray and Buck’s interest in what had happened in the parking lot before the accident, seemed odd.
But odd was not the same as evil. And maybe his company had asked him to check around. How would she know, since she hadn’t given him a chance to explain anything?
Standing before her mirror, washing her face yet again and feeling some relief that most of the redness and swelling had gone down, she decided she had probably overreacted.
She didn’t work tomorrow night, but she might run into him at Ray’s wake, and if she did, she promised herself she was going to ask some questions.
Because the simple truth was, she didn’t want to put Buck in the category he seemed to be sliding toward: just another creep. She didn’t want to put him there at all.
Especially when she finally crawled exhausted into bed and realized that his face was floating in her mind’s eye, and that all she could think about was what it might be like to feel his arms around her.
Stupid, but private, she thought as she drifted away. No one would ever know.
And she was too smart to get herself into trouble over a rolling stone.
The wake the next night was surprisingly crowded. Or maybe not, Haley thought as she stood to one side and watched a swirl of local people she knew and truckers she recognized. All spoke in the subdued voices that seemed to go with the solemn situation. Her mother’s viewing had been less crowded.
People she had known at least by sight for most of her life. People who hadn’t forgotten her mother or her through all those terrible years of illness, even though the two of them had gradually withdrawn from most social contact.
Good people.
This was different, though, with those truckers coming and going in a fairly steady stream. She hadn’t realized that they formed such strong bonds just from being on the road. But they were all drivers who’d been coming through Hasty’s truck stop for a long time. Maybe they felt a link with this little town.
She was surprised, though, by how elaborate the funeral was. Her mother’s had been much less so, simply because after her illness there were few resources left. She would have thought Ray’s family would find it even harder. That looked like an awfully expensive casket, for one thing. And there was a ton of flowers. Plus, having a two-night viewing cost more. She’d had to shave it for her mother, having a relatively short wake right before the funeral.
“Hey,” said a familiar voice, and she turned to see one of her high school friends, a girl named Debbie. “Sad about Ray, huh?”
“Very. I have to admit I hadn’t seen him but once since high school, though.”
“I had.” Debbie shrugged. “He asked me out a few times in the last month.”
“Oh, Debbie, you must be devastated!” Haley at once reached for her hand.
Debbie shook her head. “Not really. I didn’t take him up on it. It was just kind of sad, though, because it sounded like things were really turning around for him. And for his family.”
“Trucking’s a good job.”
Debbie shook her head, and her dark mane of hair swirled a bit. “No, it wasn’t that. Apparently he was coming into some money from somewhere. I thought he was giving me a snow job so I’d go out with him. The Listons have never had two dimes.”
“I know.”
“So I didn’t believe him. I figured he was trying to make himself sound important, you know?”
“I know.”
“But maybe he wasn’t lying.” Debbie sighed. “I mean, look at this wake. You can’t do this when you’re broke. So maybe he got that money he was talking about.”
“I hope so.”
“Me, too.” Debbie’s smile was rather sad. “Well, I paid my respects, so I’ve got to get going. You need to poke your head up more often, Haley. It’s been too long.”
A couple more of her girlfriends stopped to chat with her, too, and a couple of guys who’d once wanted to date her but were now happily married to others of her friends.
Life seemed to have moved on during her mother’s illness and left her a little behind. But that was okay. She was going to catch up. She was already catching up by going to school, setting her sights on her LPN and then her RN. After that, she’d have time to catch up in any other way she wanted.
When things quieted a bit, she made her way over to offer her condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Liston. She didn’t know them well. Just as she hadn’t known Ray well. It occurred to her for the first time that the Listons might have kept to themselves simply because they were so poor. Look at the way Ray had been treated and ignored in school. Maybe the same had happened to his parents. Maybe they’d never quite fit in larger social circles around here. The thought saddened her.
She avoided looking into the open casket as she approached Ray’s parents. They appeared pinched and exhausted, almost worn to the bone by life. Dressed in their Sunday finest, which still looked outdated and threadbare, they seemed overwhelmed by the number of people who had showed up.
Haley offered her hand to Mrs. Liston. “I’m so sorry about Ray. He came into the truck stop that night, just before…well, I was glad to see he had such a good job.”
Mrs. Liston nodded. Mr. Liston, however, said, “He was a good boy, no matter what anyone thought.”
“He was,” Haley agreed. He’d never caused any trouble in school, and whatever scrape he’d gotten into right after graduation, she’d never learned the details.
“The cops don’t think he was good,” Mr. Liston said. “You saw him right before?”
Haley hesitated, wondering what he was seeking. “Yes, I did.”
“They kept asking did he do drugs. My boy didn’t do no drugs. Not ever.”
“I believe you,” Haley said quickly, although she had no way to know anything about what Ray might have done. “He seemed just fine right before his accident.”
“You tell them cops that?”
“I did,” she assured him. “I promise. He was just fine.”
That seemed to ease Mr. Liston’s mind a bit. She gave Mrs. Liston a brief hug then moved away, determined to get out of here.
Enough, she thought, her eyes starting to prickle unwontedly. The smell of flowers, the peculiar odor of this funeral home, was starting to get to her. The last time…no, she didn’t want to think about the last time, when she’d been the one standing there in Mrs. Liston’s place, accepting condolences from kind people, few of whom would ever understand, not really, how much her mother’s death hurt, or what a relief it was after all that suffering.
Of course, she heard all the platitudes, and they were all true, but none of them could possibly ease the pain and confusion. Not one.
She had become motherless at twenty-three, after a descent into hell that had lasted more than five years. Inside she’d felt hollowed out, except for the grief. No platitude for that.
She was almost at the door when she heard her name. “Haley.”
She froze a moment, then turned reluctantly. Buck Devlin stood there, clad in a tan work shirt and jeans. He’d have looked out of place among all the locals dressed in their Sunday best if it hadn’t been for the few remaining truckers.
“Buck,” she said cautiously.
“I wanted to apologize. Can you give me a minute? Just a minute out front. Plenty of people, so you don’t have to be scared.”
He looked earnest enough, but that wasn’t what grabbed her. Scared? She didn’t like that. Maybe she had felt a momentary fear the night before, but she wasn’t feeling it now. She wasn’t a naturally scared sort of person, and it irritated her that he might think she was.
“Sure. Just a few minutes, though.”
Outside, they stepped off the sidewalk a few paces so they wouldn’t block the people who were coming and going. Dusk was just settling over the world.
She just looked at him, waiting, reluctant to give him an inch.
“I’m sorry I made you uneasy,” he said. “So maybe I should explain a few things.”
“That might help.”
“For starters, I’m not exactly on vacation.”
She folded her arms tightly beneath her breasts, her guard slamming into place. “So you’re a liar?”
“No.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair, cut high and tight, almost military style. “I’m on vacation in one sense. Legitimately. That’s how my company has me listed right now.”
“So what’s the not exactly part?”
“My company also asked me to look into what happened to Ray and what might have been going on in your parking lot that night. We’re having problems with shipments.”
She looked at him, her jaw dropping. “I’m supposed to believe that? You’re a truck driver, Buck Devlin. Why would they ask you?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Could you hold it down? I don’t want the whole world to know.”
“That you’re a storyteller? Got any more tall tales for me?”
“It’s not a tall tale. Yes, I’m a driver now. But before that, I was a military cop. That’s why the company asked me to look into this. They don’t want to bring the feds in because it could kill business.”
“Prove it,” she said shortly. What kind of idiot did he take her for? Angry about being lied to, she stormed toward her car. Damn, he wasn’t even a good liar.
“Haley.”
She didn’t stop. Not that it made any difference. He was beside her before she reached her car.
“Just listen,” he said. “Please.”
“I may be a small-town girl, but I’m not stupid. I think I’ve heard enough.”
He caught her arm, and when she tried to pull free, he didn’t let go. That made her even madder. “I’ll scream.”
“Dammit, Haley, just let me finish. My company’s been having problems with our shipments. You saw something happening with Ray’s truck that night. You recognized him in the diner. You talked to him. Less than an hour later he’s dead. If Ray’s death wasn’t an accident, then you’re the proverbial loose end.”
That froze her. Her ears buzzed and the world seemed to rock beneath her. Haley leaned against her car, waiting for it to settle down again. What the hell was going on?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But there’s no easy way to tell you. Is there some place we can talk where you’ll feel safe but half the town won’t hear me?”
She might have laughed if she wasn’t still feeling so shaken. Anger had turned to shock in an instant, and her brain was having trouble making the adjustment. “Around here? Anybody who wants a private conversation here has it at home.” And that was the truth.
He let go of her arm. “Are you okay?”
“I will be. I always am.” She knew that for a fact. Still leaning against her car, she closed her eyes and tried to take it all in. What if he wasn’t lying? And what if what she had seen, or thought she had seen, had something to do with Ray’s death? How many people knew? Two cops. Claire and Hasty. And that other driver she had never seen before, the one who had come in for coffee with Ray. The one who, now that she thought about it, had probably been driving the other truck when the cargo had been transferred. God!
She opened her eyes and saw Buck watching her with evident concern.
“I’m sure,” he said, “you don’t want to come to the La-Z-Rest with me. I’m equally certain you don’t want me to know where you live. So where else will you feel safe while we talk?”
Haley nodded as her mind stopped reeling. The whole town was going to be talking if she and Buck stood here any longer. “Do you know where the college campus is?”
“Yeah. I walked around some today.”
“I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.” She didn’t offer him a ride. That would make people talk, too. But over on the college campus there were people who weren’t local. A stranger wouldn’t stick out and tongues wouldn’t start wagging. “There are some benches in the center of the quad.” And there’d still be plenty of students and faculty around at this hour, even if it was summer.
“Fifteen minutes,” he agreed.
She drove off, glancing at him in her rearview mirror, and wondering what the heck she had just gotten into.
Buck had spent the day wandering. A need to know the physical territory was ingrained in him. He’d hit a surplus shop and found a decent pair of lace-up boots he could run in, and added some extra jeans and some shirts that would fit in around here, although he didn’t go for anything approaching the perennially popular Western look. A ball cap suited him better than a cowboy hat, and he wasn’t putting anything on his feet that might keep him from moving fast.
He could have run to the campus. In fact, he would have liked to run, it would have felt good, but he figured it would draw attention. A brisk walk would have to do, and he still arrived at the quad on campus before Haley.
He sat there on the bench, wondering if she would even show, or if he’d find himself talking to a couple of cops, explaining why he was harassing a nice local girl.
He wondered about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He didn’t worry about much, and he was fairly sure that even a superficial background check would reassure the cops. The stuff they’d never see, the stuff so deeply classified it would never see the light of day, was another story. But nobody could get at that.
So he waited, pondering how best to gain Haley’s trust after having given her plenty of reason to think he was either crazy or a con man. He could see it from her point of view. Seeing things from other people’s points of view was one of his gifts—and one of his curses.
She was right to be dubious, and he sure as hell hadn’t given her a thing to reassure her. Wild story from a stranger. Great start.
But she showed up. He heard the car door slam and turned his head in time to see her coming his way.
She was still wearing the simple black dress she had worn at the funeral home and he couldn’t resist giving her the once-over. Trim figure, shapely calves, delicate ankles. Even so modestly dressed she wouldn’t ever fail to catch a man’s attention. Much to his surprise, she carried two large cups of takeout coffee and when she reached him, she handed him one.
“Okay,” she said as she sat on the bench beside him. A group of young men and women emerged from a building and started walking across the far side of the quad from them. Not long after, a smaller group appeared.
“I’m waiting,” she reminded him.
“Somebody know you’re here?”
“Of course.”
“With me?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “I hope you trust whoever it is.”
“More than I trust you right now.”
“Just tell me you didn’t tell them the whole story.”
“Of course not! Sheesh, Buck, I don’t believe it myself yet. It sounds like something out of a movie.”
“I’ll give you that.” He put his coffee on the ground beside his feet and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he flipped out his military ID and his commercial driver’s license. “The ID doesn’t say much, but maybe it’ll help.”
She peered at the two laminated cards in the dim light from a nearby pole. “How can you still be military and drive a truck?”
“Ex-military. I have privileges because I was medically discharged. That card means I can use base facilities, like the exchange and the hospital.”
“What happened?”
“That’s a long story for another time. There’s a more pressing matter.”
Slowly she handed the cards back to him, but her eyes were on his face. “Buxton Devlin,” she said slowly. “It looks real, I guess. But Buxton?”
“My mother’s maiden name. She died having me and my dad named me for her. I guess he figured Mary wouldn’t work.”
Humor sparkled briefly across her face. “I guess it wouldn’t.”
“Anyway, Buxton became Buck real fast. My dad shortened it when I first started talking and couldn’t get the whole thing out right. Good thing, too, since I was a military brat. It was easier navigating childhood as Buck.”
“That probably would have been true almost anywhere.” She paused, waiting. Okay, his name appeared to be real, but what else could she be sure of? A little childhood story hardly added up to a huge heap of truth.
He shoved his wallet into his jeans pocket and picked up his coffee. “This is hard.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not used to having to prove my credentials. I either worked solo, or with a group of other MPs. Either way, I had a badge. Explaining this to someone who doesn’t have any background…” He paused, then shrugged. “I’ll try. Ask questions. I’ll answer what I know.”
“Okay.” She was agreeable to that. Her eyes followed another group walking toward the little student union, hardly more than a coffee shop, but a great place to gather.
“Before I left Seattle on my last run, my boss asked me to keep my ear to the ground. It seems some shipments are getting messed up and they can’t figure out how or why.” He stopped. “Maybe I need to backtrack.”
She just nodded and waited.
“We’re pretty careful about what goes on our trucks. Drivers are supposed to be extra careful, because when we sign for a load, we’re responsible for it until it reaches the next terminal or destination for off-load. You get that?”
“Perfectly.” It seemed sensible to her.
“Okay. Well, everything that comes into the terminal for shipping is in crates or containers. Those are all labeled. Everything has a bar code. So we scan those labels every time we move anything around. When my truck gets loaded, I stand there, count crates, and every crate is scanned while it’s being loaded. I have a manifest of what they said they were going to load, to compare to the scan of everything that goes on my truck. It covers my butt, and covers the company. So when I pull out of the terminal, I know my manifest matches exactly what’s on the truck.”
She nodded. “Makes sense.”
“It does. And it works. Or it did until about four months ago. Then something started to go wrong. My boss said they couldn’t find anything wrong at the terminal. No mismatched scans or anything. But somehow, by the time trucks arrived in Denver, the cargoes had changed. Some crates arrived late and on different trucks. And it’s getting more frequent.”
Suddenly she understood. “What I saw in the lot!”
“Maybe. Bill, my boss, figured something had to be happening along the road, and he asked me to keep an eye out because I used to be an MP.”
“Why not just call the authorities?”
“Because we’d have a federal investigation. Interstate commerce and all that. The head honchos are afraid they’d shut us down by opening and searching every crate going in and out of our Seattle terminal. It would kill business. So he doesn’t want to do that if we can solve the problem ourselves. I guess he figures that if I can nail something down, we can put the authorities on the right track without sacrificing all our business.”
She sipped coffee, noting that her hand had started to shake a little. It matched the uneasy fluttering in her stomach. “It just got bigger, didn’t it? Ray, I mean.”
“I’m seriously wondering about that. I could drive that stretch of road blindfolded. No reason for a truck to roll. Or for a driver to be dead.”
She had to put her coffee down as her heart started to climb into her throat. “What do you want from me?”
“I want two things. The first is to keep an eye on you, because you might have seen the very kind of cargo switch I was supposed to be looking out for. A few people already know what you saw. I’m worried about you. That’s why I told you not to say any more about it. Maybe word won’t get around, but I can’t be sure.”
“What else?” Her voice sounded a little thin even to her.
“Give me cover. People are going to start wondering why I’m hanging around. Like you said, this isn’t a dream vacation spot. So let me hang around, doing the lovesick-puppy thing. I’ll ask you out. You can keep saying no. I’ll look like a fool, but not in a way that arouses any suspicion. In the meantime…”
She turned to face him. “Yes? In the meantime what?”
“Well, you can let me know if you hear or see anything. Just me. I’m going to keep a pretty close eye on that truck stop, but there are other things. For example, the Liston family got an anonymous donation for that fancy funeral.”
Haley gasped. “I wondered. Oh, man, I wondered. They’ve never had any money, and I know how much I had to cut back on my own mother’s funeral last year. I looked at that…Do you know how much it costs to have a two-night wake? Or a coffin like that?”
“Thousands.”
“More than a few thousand. How did you find out they got a donation?”
“I heard somebody talking.”
“Well, I heard somebody talking, too. Apparently Ray had been telling at least one person that he was about to come into some money.”
“Money.” He almost spat the word. “Well, that would tend to confirm it.”
“Confirm what?”
“Where there’s a lot of money, there’s a lot of danger. Money and power are the two biggest corruptors, and when either gets involved, lives don’t seem to matter. I just wonder why they contributed to the funeral. Can’t be much conscience in somebody who would kill to keep a secret.”
“But folks around here do stuff like that. People would have chipped in so the Listons could bury Ray. They would have.” She remembered the offers she had received to help pay for her mother’s expenses. Offers she had been able to turn down because she had just enough. “Maybe that’s all it was, folks chipping in.”
“Maybe. But then you have Ray talking about coming into money.”
She didn’t like the way this was making her feel. She looked around at the familiar quad, in darkness now, and realized her world had shifted hugely. Would she ever see her friendly little town in quite the same way again? She suddenly experienced the most childish urge to close her eyes, as if that would make it go away. Like hiding under the bedcovers when you thought a monster was in the closet. How much protection did refusing to see give you? Zip, she thought unhappily.
One of her neighbors might be involved in something so ugly he was willing to kill. She shuddered. “I don’t want any part of this.”
“I don’t think you get the choice anymore. You saw something. If the wrong person knows…”
She didn’t need him to finish the thought. Another shiver ran through her and she leaned over to throw her coffee into the trash can at the end of the bench. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around herself and looked out at the alien world she had just landed in. If the wrong person knew. She had no idea who the wrong person might be. The Listons, who had asked her if she’d told the police that Ray had seemed fine? Claire or Hasty, who had heard what she told Micah and Sarah when they came in to ask questions? No. She couldn’t believe any of them could mean her any harm.
“Haley…” All of sudden, strong arms wrapped around her, hauling her close. She should have resisted, but that embrace felt so good, and those arms felt so strong and protective. It had been way, way too long since anyone had hugged her, and her throat tightened as she realized how much she had missed that kind of comfort. So much, evidently, that it felt good even from a stranger.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured. “That much I can swear. Not one bad thing is going to happen to you.”
“You can’t promise that,” she said weakly into his shoulder. “Nobody can.” Life had certainly taught her that lesson the hard way.
“I can. It used to be my job. Nobody’s going to hurt you. They’ll have to get through me first.”
“Why? Why do you care?”
“Because I do. Some things I just care about. You’re at the top of my list right now. Besides,” he added in an evident attempt to lighten the moment, “I’ve had my eye on you for months. You’re a temptation, woman.”
A feeble laugh escaped her. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He moved her back so that his dark eyes stared straight into hers. “It should. It’s been a long time since I had any desire to camp on a woman’s doorstep.”
The words left her speechless. She could see he meant them by the look in his eyes, and sexual heat began to drizzle through her until it pooled achingly between her thighs. Rationally she knew her reaction was foolish, but rationality had nothing to do with it. She’d been noticing this man for months, even daydreaming about him in ways she hadn’t daydreamed about anyone since high school. Every time she saw him, she felt that same pull, that same desire for something to happen between them.
Now something was happening, and it was not at all what she’d imagined. Almost unconsciously, she clamped her thighs together, wishing she wasn’t abruptly aware that every breath she took made her shirt slide over nipples that were suddenly sensitive even through her bra. She made herself look away from him, trying to get her grounding. Trying to think sensibly. Trying to regain her self-control.
As soon as she looked away, his arms dropped from her. The loss of his touch was almost enough to draw an incautious protest from her. She bit it back. There were more important things. This man had just told her she might be in danger. She couldn’t afford to lose sight of that.
“This is hard to take in,” she said after a minute.
“It’s not the usual way of looking at things,” he admitted. “And I could be wrong about you being in any danger. God willing, I am. I just don’t want to risk it.”
That was reasonable, she supposed. She tried to shake off the feeling that the deepening shadows around her might hold a threat. God, she wasn’t used to thinking this way. Life had dealt her its blows right out in the open.
And now here she was, putting in place the first building blocks of a future, and some guy came virtually out of nowhere to tell her that she might wind up like Ray? All because she had glimpsed something in the truck-stop parking lot?
Deal! Her brain almost barked the order at her, and she stiffened. If she could say nothing else about herself, if there was one thing she knew about herself for certain, it was that she dealt with life’s curveballs. All of them.
She sat up straighter, drew a breath and thought, All right. This is how it is. Now what was she to do about it?
There was one thing she knew instantly, of course. “Well, you’ve successfully made me afraid to go home alone.”
“I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m not sure you’re at risk. But equally, I can’t be sure you’re not. You saw something that nobody was supposed to see. You saw the driver of the other truck, right?”
“Yes. He came in for coffee, too.”
“And you saw the transfer of cargo.”
“I think I did. It’s not easy to see that parking lot clearly from inside the restaurant at night.”
“But you mentioned it. Others may have mentioned it after they heard what you told the police. Regardless, if I was that other driver, I’d be feeling a bit edgy. You could identify him. Maybe you could describe his truck. He might lie low and wait, but then again, killing Ray seems awfully stupid to me. If you want a quiet operation, you don’t draw attention to it by murder.”
She looked straight at him. “Do you think Ray was killed because of me?” The thought made her heart quail.
“Actually, no. I suspect Ray had irritated them in some other way. Maybe by talking about coming into some money. Something made them think he was a liability. But again, that’s my guess. I’m not even going to be sure of that until I see the accident reports.”
“How will you do that?”
“I’m going to talk to the cops in a few days.”
He couldn’t have said anything more likely to make her believe he was exactly what he said he was. “Why would they talk to you?”
“Because I’m here on behalf of my company. And they’re going to do a background check on me and find out I used to be a cop just like them. They’ll talk.”
She nodded, believing it. Cops were a tight bunch.
“As for your apartment…if you don’t mind me knowing where you live, I’ll go home with you and check it out. Then I’ll leave and you can rest comfortably.”
She sat quietly, common sense battling with more primitive needs. She liked this man. She liked his attention, but what did she really know about him? She’d seen couple of IDs, but she had no way of knowing if they were real.
For all she knew, this was flimflam, and she didn’t have any means of checking it out. So…did she want him to know where she lived? Heck, the way he had glommed on to her might put him squarely on the side of the wrongdoers. If there were any wrongdoers. She couldn’t even know that for certain.
All she knew was that he seemed determined to frighten her and then set himself up as her savior. When she thought of it that way, her internal alerts started to go off.
“No, thanks,” she said, standing. “Don’t follow me.”
There were other ways of dealing with all of this, but none of them involved inviting Buck Devlin any further into her life. As for going home alone, she did that every night, and she’d never been afraid until this man had suggested it.
All of a sudden she didn’t like him.
Turning on her heel, she walked to the car, leaving him sitting on the bench behind her. Something smelled fishy, and when things smelled fishy it was best to stay away.

Chapter 3
Buck watched Haley walk away, feeling something between frustration and genuine concern. He couldn’t blame her for her response. It did sound like something out of as movie, and something for which he was willing to bet life in this town hadn’t prepared her.
On the other hand, his life experience had taught him to be suspicious by nature. If things didn’t fit, if things weren’t orderly, then something was going on. Sometimes it wasn’t a big deal. All too frequently it had been. And noticing those out-of-kilter things had often been his biggest guide to solving a crime.
He’d come on this trip expecting to find out absolutely nothing at all. He’d figured it would be a while before he learned something about what was happening with those shipments, if he heard anything at all. Instead it had practically landed in his lap because of an observant waitress. Follow that with a dead driver who’d been seen doing something squirrelly with another truck, and his internal klaxon had become deafening.
But how did he explain that to someone else? Especially someone like Haley, who had no idea that long-haul trucks shouldn’t be trading loads in a truck stop in Nowhere, Wyoming, or that a driver might be killed because of it. Who wouldn’t even begin to understand the dimensions of shipments disappearing and reappearing.
It was an alien world to her.
Then, of course, he must seem like the next best thing to a drifter to her. Rootless, wandering, a total unknown who had just approached her with the wildest story imaginable. She was just being smart, by her lights.
Maybe she was right. Maybe nothing threatened her at all. Maybe he looked like a bigger threat than having half seen something through the window of the diner.
He’d certainly come on pretty strong and from somewhere out in the stratosphere, given the world she knew.
He sighed and rose, heading back to the motel. So, okay. He couldn’t ignore his instincts. He couldn’t be sure that Haley was at risk, but he couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t. That didn’t leave him any really good options, except to do his best to keep an eye on her from a distance without worrying her.
In the meantime, he had to wait a few days before he went to the local cops to get the result of their accident investigation. He wanted autopsy results. He wanted toxicology results. Those took time.
For now he just had to remain on alert for anything that seemed odd.
Like a very expensive funeral, paid for by an anonymous donor, for a guy who’d been bragging that he was about to come into some money.
As he was walking along quiet, darkening streets, he thought about that funeral. A large donation struck him as a bit obvious for someone who wanted a quiet operation.
But maybe it had bought some silence. Maybe the Listons were up to their necks in this.
If they were, he had to find out.
He realized as he strode the quiet, tree-lined streets that he’d resumed more than the mantle of his old job; he’d resumed its habits. As if he’d never let go of them, his vigilance heightened, his eyes scouring every shadow and cranny, his ears listening for anything unusual.
Tension ran along his nerve endings, more out of habit than real necessity at this point. No one other than his bosses had any idea why he was hanging out here, and to the casual observer it must appear he had his eye on Haley.
Well, hell, he did. Not that that was going anywhere, but he was an ordinary man and like any other guy he couldn’t avoid being attracted to a woman like her. He’d seen enough other truckers noticing her in the same way.
He wondered if he should have just kept his mouth shut, left Haley out of his suspicions, made himself a bit obnoxious by seeming to be interested in her without telling her why. It would have been an easy enough role to play.
But he didn’t want to scare her by acting like a stalker, although maybe that’s what he had done anyway.
Losing his touch, he thought. Or maybe it was one he’d never really had. Dealing with soldiers was a whole different ball game, requiring a very different approach. His touch with women hadn’t won him any high marks, either.
As he neared the motel, though, he knew the game was about to change, for good or ill. There was a squad car parked near his unit, lights off, motor off, and occupied by a large deputy.
He took care to make some noise, make his approach overt. He’d never taken kindly himself to someone coming upon him without warning.
As he neared the car, the big deputy he’d seen the night before last climbed out. “Got a minute?” the big man asked as Buck neared.
“Sure. Want to come inside or talk out here?”
“Inside. A little privacy is a good thing.”
“That seems to be a major concern around here.” Buck pulled out his key and threw the door open, flipping on the lights. He was careful to step inside, keeping his hands in the open, then stand away from any possible weapon and wait.
The deputy looked around, taking in the duffel, the freshly made bed, the absence of any other personal belongings.
Then he regarded Buck from head to foot, as if measuring him. Buck returned the look. Some things were second nature. The deputy might have a few pounds on him, and an inch or two in height, but at thirty-four he had at least a couple of decades on the deputy. He noted, though, that the man hadn’t felt the need to unsnap the holster on the nine-millimeter pistol hanging from his utility belt. For the moment, this was a friendly visit.
The big man stuck out his head. “Micah Parish.”
Buck shook it. “Buck Devlin.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“Help yourself.” Since there was only one chair, Parish took it and Buck settled on the edge of the bed.
“We’re a friendly town, Mr. Devlin,” Parish said.
“I get that feeling.”
“Not many folks around. We kinda keep an eye on each other.”
Buck figured he knew where this was leading, but he didn’t try to head it off. Let the man have his say.
“Someone said you seemed to be having a bit of a disagreement with Haley Martin outside the funeral home.”
“It probably looked that way.”
Micah’s eyebrow lifted. “So what way was it?”
“I was trying to explain something to her.”
“Is that what she would tell me?”
“I honestly don’t know what she would tell you at this point. I’m fairly certain she thinks I’m a nut or a liar right now.”
One corner of Micah’s mouth hitched up, but it wasn’t with humor. “Would she be right?”
“By her lights.”
Micah’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “Quit fencing with me unless you want to be escorted out of town in the next hour.”
Buck hesitated. It went against the grain to let anybody in on his investigations before he was ready, but he decided to let the cat out and see where it went.
“Wallet,” he said, so Micah wouldn’t think he was reaching for a weapon, then dug into his pocket. He drew out both his IDs and turned them over.
Micah scanned them. “So you’re a truck driver and disabled vet. Neither one is necessarily a recommendation.”
“No. But maybe Army Third Military Police Group, Tenth Battalion will help.”
Micah’s brow furrowed, his dark eyes searching Buck’s face. “Tenth Battalion. Criminal investigation division. I know what you guys do. The only question is what you’re doing here. This card says you’re medically retired.”
“I am. My boss asked me to look into something for him. My misfortune to be the only former MP he has working for him.”
Micah tapped the two laminated cards against his knee. “Mind if I keep these for a few hours? I want to run a background.”
“Help yourself.”
Micah slipped the IDs into his breast pocket. “Tell me what you think is going on in my town and just how Haley fits in. That girl’s had enough trouble in her life. You bringing her more?”
“Actually, I’m suffering from a white-knight complex. I’m hoping to keep her from getting into more trouble.”
“That’s not helpful, Mr. Devlin. Is there some reason you don’t want to talk to me?”
“How about that I don’t know who is involved?”
Micah stiffened at that. “Maybe you should come to the office with me. I think our sheriff might want to talk to you, too.”
Buck rose to his feet. “Let’s go. I’d like to meet your sheriff. Then maybe you two can tell me enough about yourselves that I know I can trust you.”
Micah’s frown deepened. “You’ll ride in the cage,” he said flatly.
“Fine by me. I’d rather look like a criminal than your cohort right now.”
Micah wasn’t exactly gentle as he put Buck in the back of his vehicle. Which was fine by Buck.
If anybody was paying attention, and they might be since his hanging out here was apparently suspicious enough to garner legal attention, they’d think he was in trouble.
Right then, that’s just how he wanted it.
Miles away, in a living room that looked ancient in every way, Mr. and Mrs. Liston sat in their usual chairs, hands linked, still wearing their best clothes. Mrs. Liston was crying quietly, but her husband looked almost empty.
Across from them sat their eldest son, Jim. He had arrived only a few hours ago from Los Angeles. Until just a few months ago, he’d pretty much disappeared from their lives, much as Ray had, and they couldn’t understand it. But at least he was coming home again. For the past half year or so they’d seen him every few weeks. In a way they were grateful to him, because he’d helped Ray find that trucking job.
But now Ray was dead.
“I’m so sorry,” he said yet again. He sat there looking fine in his expensive clothes, and the corners of his mouth drooped.
“We’re all sorry, son,” Mrs. Liston finally said. “You know your brother was a good boy.”
“I know. We kept in touch, obviously. But you say the cops are asking about drugs?”
Both the elder Listons nodded.
“It was just a terrible accident,” Jim said soothingly. “Ray hadn’t been driving that long. I’m sure that’s what they’ll find out.”
Mr. Liston spoke. “He didn’t do no drugs. I know that much. And that Martin girl said the same thing.”
“What Martin girl?”
“Haley Martin. Works at the truck stop. She saw Ray just before…she said he was fine. Just fine. She don’t believe it was no drugs, either.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Jim said firmly. “I’m positive. Ray wouldn’t do that.”
“No,” Mr. Liston agreed. “No. Not my boy.”
Mrs. Liston wiped away her tears. “I’m gonna go get in my nightclothes. Then I’ll make us all some Ovaltine.” It had always been her soothing solution to everything. No one disagreed with her. Her husband went with her to change clothes.
Jim sat where he was, then as soon as he heard them reach their bedroom, he stepped outside and pulled out his cell phone. The signal was almost nonexistent, but he got through. The call was brief; he said very little.
But he did mention Haley Martin.
The sheriff’s office was located in a storefront on a corner across the street from the courthouse square, a bit of eastern charm transplanted to the West. Inside, the dispatcher’s desk was surrounded by other desks apparently for use by deputies. Each desk boasted a relatively new computer, all of which looked out of place on desks that were at least thirty years old, maybe older. Wooden floors creaked with every step.
A young deputy sat at the dispatcher’s desk, sipping coffee and looking bored behind a console that would have done a big-city operation proud.
Micah pointed Buck to a chair next to one of the desks. “Wait there.” Then he crossed to the dispatcher.
“Get Gage in here. I need him. Then run these IDs.” He pulled out Buck’s IDs and tossed them on the dispatcher’s desk. “I want everything you can find, and then you’re going to forget all of this unless I say otherwise.”
Evidently, Buck thought with mild amusement, gossip could be a problem in this office, too.
“Who made the coffee?” Micah asked.
“I did,” answered the young deputy, whose name tag said he was Rankin. “It’s not lethal.”
Micah glanced at Buck. “Coffee?”
“Black, please.” Evidently they hadn’t gotten past being courteous, always a good sign.
Micah brought two mugs over to the desk, handing one to Buck. “Getting decent coffee around here is a trial. Our day dispatcher, Velma, turns it into battery acid. Nobody has the heart to tell her to stop making it.”
“I’m used to stuff you can stand a spoon in.”
“Then you might like Velma’s brew.”
Silence fell. A call had been put out, but then the radio grew quiet. The only sound was Rankin tapping busily away, looking into Buck’s background.
“Do you really need a night shift around here?” Buck asked eventually. Not that he was opposed to silence, but a little friendly conversation seemed in order. He wanted these guys to cooperate, if possible, but at the very least not to get into his way. Unless they turned out to be part of the problem.
“We have roadhouses,” Micah said, as if that explained it all. It probably did. “You must have broken up a few drunken brawls in your day.”
“Plenty.”
“Cowboys coming in off the range are pretty much like soldiers on a pass. These days, cowboys aren’t often on the range.”
“Times are bad everywhere.”
Micah nodded. “Not getting any better, either. Too many folks trying to drown their sorrows.”
The sheriff arrived in about fifteen minutes. A man who appeared to be somewhere in his late fifties, with a burn-scarred face and visible limp, entered the office wearing a light jacket, jeans and his badge clipped to his belt.
He paused, looked at Buck. “What’s up?”
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to find out,” Micah said. “Got a complaint from someone that this guy seemed to be bothering Haley Martin. According to him he wasn’t bothering her.”
“Have you talked to Haley?”
“Not until I figure out what’s going on here. Rankin’s pulling his background right now.”
“And you needed me for?”
“Well, I thought you and me together in a quiet office might get a little further. I get the feeling there’s something we need to know.”
There were a couple of ways to take that, but Buck decided to take it favorably until he had reason to think otherwise.
That was when Rankin looked up. “Holy cow,” he said.
“What?” the sheriff asked.
“This guy’s for real. I mean, really real.”
“Would you like to explain that?”
“You want the list of medals or the job description?”
The sheriff took a printout from Rankin and led the way to an office in the back. Buck followed with his coffee, waiting to see how this played out. Every muscle in his body was coiled and ready. He’d seen corruption in local law enforcement before, and trust wasn’t his strong suit.
For now, though, everything seemed on the up-and-up. The sheriff’s office was small. The nameplate on his desk, identifying him as Gage Dalton, Sheriff, looked as if it had taken more than one tumble to the floor. A computer filled one corner of the desk and a stack of papers the other.
Gage sat behind it, and Micah and Buck took up the two chairs facing it, while Gage scanned the printout. A moment later he handed Buck’s IDs back to him.
“Okay,” he said. “You’re former CID. Plenty of commendations. Plenty of blanks, too.”
Buck said nothing.
“Being former DEA myself, I know about those blanks. They don’t worry me much. So maybe you’d like to explain to Micah and me why someone would think you’re harassing Haley Martin and what you’re doing hanging around in my town.”
Buck hesitated a moment longer, glancing toward Micah.
“SF,” Micah said, referring to Special Forces. “Retired.”
“I wanted to scope things out a bit more before I came to you,” Buck said frankly. “I don’t know much about what’s going on right now, but something is, and I wanted to have some feel for who might be involved before I go shooting off my mouth.”
“It looks like the time for that is past,” Gage said bluntly. “You’re the stranger here, and you just got some unwanted attention. We can make your life easy or hard. Your choice.”
“I’m worried about Haley,” Buck said. “Among other things.”
“Why would you be worrying about somebody you hardly know?”
“Good question. I asked myself that same thing. It remains, I’m worried anyway. Old instincts die hard.”
“So explain,” Gage said.
Buck explained. He gave them his boss Bill’s name, he told them about the shipment problem, he pointed out that Haley had seen something unusual in the parking lot, that Ray shouldn’t be dead, and that he was seriously concerned that something was happening here that could endanger her if someone thought she knew too much.
“You could have just told us to keep an eye on her,” Micah pointed out.
“Sure. And then everyone would know the cops smelled something wrong and I might never find out what’s happening with those shipments.”
“Are you sure you’re not just dragging her in deeper?”
“Nobody knows I’m investigating except my bosses. Everyone would think I was just hanging around because of Haley. At least that was the plan. A lot of guys would hang around because of her.”
“So she’s your cover.”
“Yes. And I tried to reassure her about it, but that didn’t seem to work. Which I can understand. But I tried. I didn’t want her to think I was actually stalking her.”
“Backfire,” Micah remarked.
“Clearly,” Buck agreed.
Gage drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Apart from this being totally unconventional, was your master plan to follow Haley around until you figure something out?”
“Well, I need an excuse to hang around until the next irregularity occurs. Then I’ll follow the second truck to see where it’s going. If I can. At the very least, I have to confirm that shipments are being switched here. That’s my official task. What happens after that…” He shrugged. “Let’s just say I might want to know where the other truck is going.”
At that Gage leaned forward. “If you find out, you’re going to let us know. Right? You’re not going to take the law into your own hands. Not here.”
“I’m not allowed to anymore. I get it. But as everyone keeps pointing out to me, this is a small, tight-knit community. How many people around here don’t know every single one of your deputies by sight?”
Gage and Micah exchanged looks.
“He’s got a point,” Micah remarked.
“He damn well does.” Gage leaned back, grimacing faintly. “I’ll agree on one point, Mr. Devlin—”
“Buck.”
“Buck. Okay. I’m Gage. I agree with you on one thing. This seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to unless something illicit is being shipped in some of those containers. Illicit and worth considerable money. There’s no point in it otherwise. And maybe you’re right about Ray talking a little too much about coming into some money. Around here that would get attention.”
“So did his anonymously-paid-for funeral.”
Gage disagreed. “That doesn’t fit with the rest of the story.”
“Unless the Listons are in on this somehow.”
“It’s possible,” Gage said after brief reflection. “That family has been dirt poor forever. They might be willing to do almost anything to make ends meet.” Then he shook his head. “Only one problem. In all their lives, they’ve never done one thing wrong.”
“Except for that scrape Ray got in right after he graduated,” Micah said.
“Alcohol and tough words don’t mix well,” Gage remarked. “I’ve seen worse sins in my day. He paid for it.”
From Buck’s perspective, it was interesting to hear how well these lawmen knew the people of this area. He’d almost never had that advantage in the army. “So,” he asked slowly, “who might be up to something?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Gage regarded him thoughtfully. “All right. When can I call your boss?”
Buck looked at his watch. “Right now if you want. He’s on until midnight Pacific time. Ask for Bill Grayson.” He recited the phone number and Gage scribbled it down.
Gage called, waited a few minutes, then started speaking to Bill. From Buck’s perspective, it was interesting.
“Your employee didn’t have much choice, Mr. Grayson. Strangers around here get a lot of attention. We’re a small town. We wanted to know why a truck driver was hanging around. This isn’t exactly a vacation destination. He’s sitting in my office right now. Yes. No, we’re not getting directly involved in what he’s doing. It might create more problems. Yes. I’ll tell him.”
Gage hung up. “That’s one upset man.”
“He wants this quiet so the company doesn’t lose business. It hardly looks good for a trucking company to keep messing up its manifests.”
“Doesn’t look good at all.” Gage sighed. “Okay, you’re legit. I see two problems here. First, you stick out like a sore thumb. Second, you’re right, if we start doing anything different, half the county will be wondering what’s going on within a day or two. So I’m going to give you free rein. Within the law, that is. As for Haley…”
Buck waited while Gage frowned. “Why couldn’t you have picked someone else?”
“Like I said, it’s Haley I’m worried about. Micah knows she reported that something was going on in that parking lot that night. So two deputies and at least two other people know what she thought she saw—the guy everyone calls Hasty, and the other waitress. I gather folks around here talk about nearly everything.”
“The downside of a small town,” Gage remarked. “If you want to know what you’re doing, ask a neighbor.”
That surprised a laugh from Buck. “That bad?”
“Damn near. On the other hand, nosiness doesn’t keep people from hiding things they want to hide. It just makes them a damn sight more cautious.” He looked at Micah. “If Buck here is right, these folks are willing to kill.”
“We won’t know that until the reports are back.”
“No, but can we afford to take the chance? So I guess we’d better let Haley know Buck is okay. She can decide how much she wants to trust him or help him.” Then his gaze returned to Buck, as strong as laser beams. “You be careful of that girl, hear? She’s strong, but there’s a part of her that’s fragile. No hanky-panky with her. No leading her on. You’re here for a few days or weeks, and I don’t want to see any broken hearts.”
“That’s not on my agenda. At all.”
Gage continued to study him. “Why do I get the feeling you like to give people a hard time?”
“I’ve heard that before.” And damned if he was going to apologize for it.
“I bet you have.” A lopsided smile appeared on Gage’s scarred face. “You know you’re at a disadvantage. Being an outsider, nobody around here is going to tell you much.”
“I’m used to that.”
“I’ll bet,” said Micah. He looked at Gage. “If you think a stranger investigating around here is going to be tough, watch an MP looking into a unit of Rangers. You’d think they all became instantly deaf, dumb and blind.”
At that Gage cracked a laugh. “Okay. I’ll call Haley and tell her you check out. But that’s all I’m going to tell her. I want her to sleep easy. Other than that, it’s all her decision. If I hear you pushed her even a little, you’re on your way out.”
Buck could live with that. He just hoped he hadn’t tipped his hand to the wrong people. Given the way these cops seemed to know about every little thing around here, he had to wonder how they could be unaware of whatever was happening at the truck stop.
It didn’t leave him feeling easy at all as he walked back to the motel.
Haley didn’t exactly feel nervous when she got home. Buck hadn’t tried to follow her, and she was still torn between believing him and thinking he was some kind of nut. What he said made a certain sense, and in her heart of hearts she found it hard to believe that Ray had rolled his truck on that stretch of road unless something major had happened. Then there was that shadowy exchange in the parking lot, which might or might not be weird. What did she know about the trucking business, after all? Maybe it had been a delivery for some place near here. That struck her as far more likely than that someone was doing something wrong.
But then there was Buck’s story of mixed-up shipments. That sounded even stranger, but she had to admit it had an element of plausibility to it. The things he’d said about money…
She sighed after she finished brushing her teeth, then climbed into sweats for sleeping. Summer nights sometimes turned cool around here, and this one was cooling a lot. She didn’t want to turn on the heat because she needed to save money.
Padding around in slipper socks, she went to get her nightly glass of milk. She didn’t care for it warm, so despite the night’s chill she drank it cold.
Well, if she had anything to be grateful for, it was that Buck hadn’t dumped his story on her earlier in the day. At least she had finished studying for the exam tomorrow morning. She looked at her nutrition books, piled on her cheap little desk beside a lamp, and decided enough was enough. She needed to get some sleep, needed to calm her mind down.
She paused to look at a framed photo of her mother, one taken before illness had robbed her beauty, and found herself thinking about the costs of funerals. How had the Listons afforded all of that? Even if the entire county had chipped in a dollar per family, it wouldn’t have covered that coffin.
There she went again, pondering matters that had no answers. It occurred to her to be sorry she had ever talked to Buck Devlin at all. Before he had entered her life, things had seemed so generally uncomplicated. At least since her mother’s passing. She needed some calm and stability after those long years of riding the cancer roller coaster with her mother. She wanted her life to be calm and even dull. For a while.
She knew life had been bound to knock her out of her quiet little pond at some point. She might be young in some respects, but she figured she was pretty old in others. Old enough to know that smooth sailing was the exception rather than the rule.
Sitting in her mother’s old armchair, she sipped her milk and tried to absorb all her conflicting feelings about Buck Devlin. At some point, she realized she wanted to believe him, but was afraid to.
Interesting. She wanted to believe there was some illegal activity going on in the parking lot at Hasty’s and that Buck was seriously investigating it? That she might be in danger because she had glimpsed something she could barely make out through a window that had acted more like a mirror?
That Ray had been murdered?
That wasn’t a world she wanted to live in. But much of her life had been a world she hadn’t wanted, and that was probably true for most people.
She sighed, finished her milk and headed to the kitchen to rinse the glass, wondering if her attraction to Buck Devlin wasn’t screwing up her thinking. Claire’s warning drifted back to her. Yeah, he was a rolling stone, here today and gone tomorrow. That alone should make her wary.
Then the phone rang. It startled her because she wasn’t used to having late-night calls. There’d been a time when such calls meant that her mother had taken a bad turn in the hospital.
It was over now, but the dread of late-night phone calls remained. Her heart started hammering as she reached for the receiver as if it were a poisonous snake.
“Hello?”
“Haley, this is Gage Dalton.”
That made her stomach lurch. Immediately her mind started scrambling for ideas of what might have gone wrong to make the sheriff call her at such an hour.
“I just wanted you to know,” he said, “we had a complaint tonight that a truck driver, Buck Devlin, was harassing you at the funeral home.”
Haley felt her stomach sink. She hadn’t wanted this, no matter what. He might be what he said he was, or he might be a nut, but he hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t even scared her enough to get the police involved. “Not really,” she managed to say.
“I’m not saying he did. I’m just letting you know we had a report so we checked into him.”
She caught her breath. “And?”
“He’s exactly what he says he is and is doing exactly what he told you he’s doing. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether to get involved with him. But I don’t think you need to fear him.”
That slight emphasis on him left her wondering if Gage thought she had something else to fear, but if he had, wouldn’t he have said so?
All of a sudden she didn’t want to be alone. All of a sudden, despite the milk, she felt wide awake. Great. That was going to help on her test in the morning.
Regardless, she pulled on a bra under her sweat suit, tugged on her jogging shoes, grabbed her purse and headed for the truck stop.
She needed bright light, the swirl of people around her and some carbs to calm her down. At that moment nothing sounded better than a piece of Hasty’s cobbler and a bit of sensible talk with Claire.
As it happened, the place was pretty busy when she arrived. Claire and another waitress, Meg, were busy enough they could have used some help. Haley considered clocking in and digging a spare uniform out of her locker, but Hasty stopped her.
“You’re supposed to be resting, what with that test tomorrow and the play the next two nights. What in the world are you doing here?”
“I was called by your cobbler.”
He unleashed one of his rolling laughs and promptly dished her up a serving big enough for two. “Coffee?”
“Milk, please.”
She would have settled at the counter except that a table near the window emptied. She headed straight for it and closed her eyes for a few moments as she savored the first mouthful of peach perfection.
She opened her eyes again and studied the lot. The window really did act almost like a mirror. She could choose either to see what was going on around her in the restaurant, or to pick out the shadowy movements in the lot. And they were

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