Millionaire M.D.

Seven

When Winona pushed open the door to Royal Memorial Hospital, her pulse was hurtling at a hundred miles an hour. Heaven knew why she was so nervous when the chances were slim that she’d even find Justin. He could easily be tied up for hours in surgery, and it wasn’t as if she would ever interrupt him when he was busy with patients.

She didn’t have to see him this instant, Winona kept telling herself. For darn sure he shouldn’t have sicced Myrt on her without asking permission, but being good to her was hardly a murdering offense. She could yell at him about that any old time, and, yes, it troubled her that they still hadn’t settled the proposal question, but that was part and parcel of the same problem. Something was wrong with Justin. He was behaving in very odd, very troubling ways. She wanted-needed-to get to the root of all this nonsense, but grabbing him at work for a snatched conversation was never going to resolve any of that.

She should be home. Or at her own work. Anywhere but clipping down the hall toward the Plastic Surgery/Burn Unit hell-bent for leather-and still she kept bounding along at the same breakneck pace. Although a number of familiar faces called out a “Hey, Winona!” she avoided making eye contact or anything but a brusque return greeting. Everyone in town knew she was a cop, and she roamed the hospital floors at all hours without anyone ever saying boo, so she had no fear that anyone would stop or question her. Nerves were hammering on her conscience, though. She knew perfectly well that she had no excuse in God’s great earth to be here. She just wanted to see him.

And for some unknown reason, she wanted to see him now. Not later. To yell at him for being manipulative and bossy, she told herself virtuously.

But even having given herself a good, sound, self-righteous excuse didn’t seem to stop her heart from hammering.

She paused at the nurses’ desk right inside the Plastic Surgery unit. “You haven’t seen Dr. Webb, have you?” she asked a nurse in ice-blue scrubs with Mary Jo on her chest badge.

The blonde recognized Winona with a tired smile. “He’s been in here off and on since last night. You know, the accident with the two teenagers on Cold Creek Road? Stevie really got his face cut up.”

“Aw, hell,” Winona said. “Stevie Richards?” As if there were more than one Stevie living on Cold Creek Road.

“Yeah. Parents called Dr. Webb right away last night. The whole family was just a mess. Dr. Webb finally kicked them all out, sat with Stevie himself after the surgery, got him calm, kept him calm…” Normally Mary Jo would never have told a patient’s business, but Winona had known her for years. She generally knew more about an accident or a kid’s problems than ever made it on a hospital’s records, so the two frequently exchanged notes and information. “Anyway, I knew he wasn’t in Stevie’s room an hour ago, but I can-”

Winona could see her hand reaching for the phone. “No, don’t call him. I don’t want to bother him if he’s with a patient. This wasn’t that important.” If Justin had been up all night, he had to be exhausted. That changed things. Her need to see him was some kind of emotional thing, but that was foolishness. Win was an ace pro at putting emotions in the bank when she didn’t absolutely have to spend them.

“Well, he’s still in the hospital, I know.” Mary Jo tapped a finger on the desk. “I’m pretty sure he was headed up to Lady Helena’s room. At least, he mentioned wanting to do a consult with Dr. Harding and Dr. Chambers. That was about a half hour ago, so I’m guessing you might have picked a good time to catch him.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

Outside, she heard the whir of a helicopter. Royal Memorial was hardly a metropolis-size hospital, but the Burn Unit had begun earning a stellar reputation from the day it opened, and these days patients were often flown in from other cities. Still, the minute she walked into the Burn Unit, it was like wandering onto another planet. All the noise and hustle of the Emergency Room disappeared. Here, it was quiet. A gentle place, with pale blue walls and soft lighting. Nobody sneezed here, no one coughed-Winona had always figured that no one would dare. Justin would shoot anybody who came in here with a cold, because even bitsy germs could be a serious threat to a burn patient. The smells were the same old hospital smells-alcohol and bleach and antiseptics-but somehow neither the quiet nor the stinks made for a cold atmosphere. If you were a patient here, you were in big trouble. You needed peace and serious healing. And that’s how Winona always felt here, as if she were in a place designed to soothe the spirit as well as heal the body.

Somehow, for a while now, she’d intuited that Justin needed that kind of healing place as well-that he hadn’t created the Burn Unit just from studies of how a good one should be, but from something inside himself. Some sore that he hid from sight.

That thought was still on her mind when she located him.

Lady Helena’s room was supposed to be a secret for security reasons-she was one of the most seriously VIP patients the hospital had ever had-but every cop in town knew where she was. When Winona rounded the corner, she recognized Dr. Harding and Dr. Chambers. They were both standing in the doorway, and she could hear Justin’s voice from inside the room.

Dr. Chambers was the bone man. He wasn’t the chattiest guy in town, but Winona had taken him busted-up kids before, knew he was an okay guy.

Dr. Harding was a woman and impossible not to like. Her specialty was burns, and the compassion in her eyes created its own kind of beauty. Justin never took credit for a damn thing, but Winona’d heard through the grapevine that he’d stolen Dr. Harding from Boston because of her innovative work with burn patients.

Winona hesitated at the far end of the hall, wary of coming closer and intruding. Because the town rehashed every ounce of news related to the plane crash every morning at the Royal Diner, she basically knew what had happened to Lady Helena. Helena had suffered burns as well as a severely broken ankle in the crash. Justin had been a consult on her medical team from the get-go, even though she wasn’t in his direct hands yet. The break had to be healed and so did the burns, before he could do plastic surgery for the scars. Winona remembered exactly how beautiful Lady Helena was, how graceful and elegant she’d come across to everyone at the Texas Cattleman’s Club gala. Now, her voice inside the hospital room was pale and groggy and frightened.

“When can I go home?”

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with us for a while. Weeks yet. But I promise, we’ll do our best to keep you entertained,” Dr. Harding teased gently.

“I’ll have use of my hand? My leg again?”

The two doctors in the hallway exchanged glances. “We believe so, Helena.” And then they walked out, down the hall in the other direction, leaving Justin alone with Lady Helena.

“Doctor Webb, what am I going to look like? Please tell me the truth. No one else seems willing to answer a direct question. I can’t deal with the truth if I don’t know what it is. How bad are the scars going to be?”

Right then, Winona almost spun around and took off. She completely changed her mind about talking to Justin. It would wait. It was just selfishness, her wanting to see him, to be with him. And it was now obvious that he’d had a harrowing night and was having an even tougher day-Lady Helena’s careful, softly voiced questions could darn well break any woman’s heart-and Winona just couldn’t imagine bugging him right now.

Still, she lingered, just for a few more moments. Not to bug him. Not even to wait for him. But even though she couldn’t make out his specific words to Helena, she could hear him talking, the cadence of his voice like the refrain of an old love song, gentle, familiar, soothing. And then he was striding out, his head bent as he stuck a pen in his white hospital coat, the smile for his patient still plastered on his face…but that smile disappeared the instant he moved out of Helena’s sight.

He clearly believed that he was alone in the hall for that second. Winona could see those proud shoulders of his sag, the starch go out of his posture. His good-looking face was darn near chalk-white from exhaustion.

There was no way she was walking away from him.

“Justin?”

Even before his head whipped around at the sound of her voice, he had his normal expression back in place. His spine automatically straightened; his mouth tipped in that Sam Elliot, lazy, almost-smile; the virile vitality clipped back in his step. And those gorgeous eyes looking her over were-naturally-opaque as far as revealing any of his own feelings.

“Sheesh, Win. You prowling the bad neighborhoods again, looking for trouble?”

That was the whole problem with his teasing. She either wanted to smack him-or kiss him. The bottom line, as she was coming to realize, was that no matter what, she had always been tempted to touch him. How could she have failed to notice that for so long? “You had to know I’d track you down, after what you did,” she said severely.

“What, what? I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t try that innocent routine on me, Doc. You’re in trouble-and most people know better than to get in trouble with a cop. It’s time to face the music. Exactly what do you still have to do this afternoon?”

“Well, I’m done with patients for the day, but I think I was supposed to meet with some insurance woman this afternoon. And I’ve got a good two hours of paperwork.” He shot her a wayward grin. “I can cancel that stuff. I’d rather get in trouble with you any old time. But I have to admit, Win, I can’t promise to be any kind of great company. I’m a little on the tired side.”

A little? That wayward grin couldn’t fool her in a month of Sundays. The more she studied him, the more she realized that he’d be lucky to drive himself home without falling asleep at the wheel. “Well, I promise, I only want a few minutes of your time-”

He frowned abruptly, as if suddenly remembering some terribly serious thing. “Actually, I need to talk to you. Serious talk. In fact, I wanted to call you much earlier, but stuff kept happening at the hospital and I just couldn’t get free to make the call. I’m glad we ran into each other-”

Winona was afraid it was weddings he wanted to talk about. That wasn’t going to happen. Now that she realized how completely wasted he was, his fate was sealed as far as how this encounter was going to go. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. Let’s swing by your house. Grab a sandwich. We can talk while you’re eating and then I’ll hightail it home.”

His eyebrows raised. “That plan works great for me, but it doesn’t seem very convenient for you. Since when do you want to go to my place?”

Since never. She’d been there; she knew where he lived, but she’d never felt comfortable alone with him in his house. It wasn’t a matter of not trusting Justin-in any way-but of always feeling edgy with the feelings he stirred in her. But right now none of that mattered. The only issue was getting Justin fed, comfortable, and asleep, which she figured would be a lot easier to manipulate on his own turf.

She followed his Porsche, which gave her a chance to use her cell phone to call Myrt. “How late can you stay?”

“I told you, I told you. All night, if you need me to. Any time.”

“Well…how’s Angel?”

“Just like her namesake.”

“Being good?”

“Happy as a clam.”

Winona’s worry nerves detangled. “Well, the thing is, I just caught up with Justin and he’s really whipped. What I’d like to do is take him home and make sure he gets some rest, but I know he won’t go along if I tell him that plan. I can’t believe I’m going to be at his place for very long, but I just can’t give you an exact time when I’ll be home.”

“So this is easy. I know where you are, I’ll call you if I need you. Otherwise, take the evening off, mom. Go play. If you’re not back by the time I get tired, I’ll just bunk down in the spare bedroom and leave the door cracked so I can hear the baby. Now, do you have a key?”

Winona blinked at the phone. Even her foster mothers had never asked if she’d had a key. Myrt was like having an honorary mother-whether she wanted one or not.

But her humor suffered a fadeout when she pulled up behind Justin in his drive. Her house was only a couple miles from here, but it might as well be another universe. His place was white stucco with a Spanish red-tile roof, two stories tall with pillars framing the front door. A covered patio stepped down in layers to water gardens. Her yard had a clothesline. His had a marble fountain and a jetted pool.

When he unlocked the door, he ushered her in first. Possibly it was the sudden silence that made her so oddly nervous. She scuffed off her jacket, pushed off her shoes, tried to brazen past her nerves with some normal conversation. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been upstairs-how many rooms up there?”

“Four bedrooms and three baths, I think-but I can’t swear to that,” he said wryly. “I haven’t been up there myself since I can remember.”

She shot him a bemused smile. “And that’s another question I never got around to asking you before-why on earth did you buy such a big house?” The downstairs alone was a maze of room choices. Past the dining and living areas were a den and office, a sunroom and game room, and somewhere on the first floor was the master bedroom as well.

“Beats me. At the time, it seemed to make sense. I wanted a house in town, close to the hospital and my office. But I didn’t want a place in the same neighborhood as my parents-I love ’em, but that’d be too close. And as much as I’m crazy about my grandparents’ ranch, I couldn’t see living in the country. It’s just too far from my work.”

“But you didn’t need anything this monster size!”

“Well, I know. But Myrt and the gardener both came with this place. And the closed staircase made it easy to shut off the upstairs, so I have all that extra space for company, but it doesn’t get dirty or messed up if I just stay out of it. I really do like the room, though. And that brothers and sisters and family can pile in here over the holidays.”

She took a breath, but Hell’s bells…there was no way to get a question answered if you didn’t ask it. “Were you thinking about a house big enough for a family when you bought it?”

His head shot up. For a moment, she forgot how tired he was. The look of awareness kindling in his eyes seemed as electric and wide-awake as a charge of lightning. “If you’re asking if I can imagine you and our kids living here-yes, I can. And yes, I have been. Although imagining you and I practicing how to make those kids is mostly what’s been on my mind.”

She was a cop. Too old and too life-smart to blush, but blast the man if she didn’t feel warmth surging up her cheeks. No matter how close they’d become-no matter that there was a marriage proposal between them. She still couldn’t seem to believe that he wanted her. Or that she hadn’t realized how much fire had been simmering between them for so many years without her knowing. “Justin, I wasn’t asking about us-”

He grinned, but he also quit teasing. “Yeah, I know, you were asking me why I bought the house. But the truth is…I don’t know, Win. At the time, I just liked the place. It wasn’t that practical a decision. I fell for the two fireplaces and the unbeatable pool table in the game room. And the two trees in here.”

There were. The two fringey trees in his great room stretched at least ten feet tall. He flipped on switches as they walked through. Recessed lighting immediately softened the darkness, illuminating the picture windows and vaulted ceiling, the hardwood floor, the giant furniture-couches, chairs, cushions-all upholstered in a thick, white cotton duck. Most of the color in the room came from true-life greens-not just the trees, but also bushy plants in tubs.

Her gaze swept from the plants and white furniture to the occasional splashes of contemporary art on the walls. “Did you choose all this yourself?”

“Are you kidding? Mostly the house came this way. All I had to do was water the plants and pick out some stuff for the walls.”

“Men,” she murmured dryly.

“Hey.” Still headed for the kitchen, he pushed on more switches. A gas fire suddenly sizzled in the great-room hearth, adding warmth and light. They passed a hall table heaped with mail. A door opening onto his office. The downstairs bathroom looked more like a sitting room for a sultan than a practical john. She only caught a fast glimpse of the lapis lazuli tile, the square tub with whirlpool, the blanket-size towels in cobalt.

“I’ve got that color blue, too, but somehow it doesn’t look quite the same at my budget level.”

“I keep telling you to marry me, don’t I? Then you could get your hands on all my money. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Getting her hands on him sounded good. Too good. Particularly for a woman who had never considered herself sex-obsessed before-but just then she had other priorities. Justin was barely walking straight. He was weaving-tired, groggy-voiced tired, his teasing even sounding slurred.

When they passed by the game room-right before the kitchen-she flipped on the light switch herself, because she strongly suspected they’d end up in there. It was so obviously Justin’s nest. Between floor-to-ceiling windows were floor-to-ceiling bookcases, all crammed to the gills with dog-eared volumes. The pool table sat in the room’s center, and the hearth in here wasn’t gas, but had real wood stashed in bins by the side. The old Oriental rug under the table was as thick as a sponge, and the far couch was red leather, a dark cranberry, as warm as the lantern lamps on the mantel top.

The look of that room lingered in her mind as she walked into the kitchen. Without giving Justin a chance to start talking, she promptly pushed her sleeves up and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, you, it’s your lucky day. While you get a chance to shower and put your feet up, I’m volunteering to cook. I’ll make anything you want-as long as it’s no tougher than melted cheese sandwiches and potato chips. No, no, don’t thank me. I realize you’re used to Myrt making you riff-raff gourmet stuff, but out of the goodness of my heart, I’ll even add Oreos for dessert-”

“Um, could I change my mind about loaning you Myrt and get her back?”

“No.” She used the royal pointing figure to motion him toward his bedroom and bath. She didn’t want Myrt touching the conversation. Or even teasing hints about marriage. Not until the damn man had some food and rest. For Pete’s sake, he had bags under his eyes bigger than boats. “Go. Get cleaned up.”

“Did I know you were this domineering and abusive before?” he asked plaintively-but he obeyed and left, even if she did hear him chuckling all the way down the hall.

She prowled his kitchen for the ingredients for their makeshift dinner. By the time he emerged from the shower, rubbing a towel in his hair, barefoot, wearing clean jeans and a loose, long-sleeved T-shirt, she had a tray of food set up in the game room. A small fire hissed and snapped in the stone hearth. She’d lit the lanterns on the mantel, and the glow shone on the cheese-and-bacon sandwiches and chips.

“Hell. This is almost as good as fast food. Myrt’s always making me eat nutritional kind of stuff.”

“I had a feeling that you really suffered regularly with her cooking.”

“She bosses me around worse than…” he yawned as he plopped down on the leather couch, “…my mom.” He glanced at her with an owlish expression. “Man, I’m sorry, Win. I should probably make some coffee. I know I’m lousy company.”

“Forget the coffee,” she said gently, thinking that if he made a move toward caffeine, she just might have to sit on him. “Just eat a little, okay? Then lean back. Watch the fire for a while. It won’t kill you to take ten, will it?”

“No, but I have to talk to you. About something important. Really important.”

She figured this talk was about marriage-and really, she agreed. It was time they settled that wild proposal of his. He deserved an answer. And tonight was one of the first times in a blue moon she’d had him alone to talk privately-but not right then. Darn it, he was beyond exhausted.

He wolfed down two sandwiches and a glass of iced herbal tea, leaned back with a sigh, and just like that, he was out. His eyes closed, and he dropped off faster than a worn-out baby.

With a quiet triumphant chuckle, she scooped up their few dishes, took care of those, then tiptoed back to the game room. She spotted a throw on a chairback, and gently tucked it around him, then curled up in the red leather chair at his side.

She had no intention of staying more than a few more minutes. Even if Myrt was all settled to take care of Angel, she wanted to get home, get back to the baby. But first she wanted to make sure that Justin was sound asleep, and that there was someone to field the phone or any other noises that could interrupt him for a while.

In a half hour, max, she was leaving.

For sure.

She woke up feeling disoriented. For a few moments she couldn’t fathom where she was or how she’d come to be here, but gradually the details came into focus. She saw the yellow fire still sizzling in the hearth, recognized the rich Oriental carpet and the fancy pool table, finally realized that, of course, she was at Justin’s…but then she felt it.

His gaze. On her face. Justin was sitting up, wide-awake but as silent and still as a secret, his dark, soft eyes on her face as if glued there.

She suffered through it again. That feeling. That feeling she never got with anyone else…of wanting to let go, of wanting to be abandoned. Not the dread-sick sensation of being deserted and alone, but the other meaning of abandoned, the kind that was a choice-a fierce desire to abandon everything familiar and safe and just feel. Him. From her toes to her chin. From deep in her belly. To explore and discover everything she might be with him if the lights were off-under the sheets.

Her throat was suddenly arid, her pulse suddenly pounding. Swiftly she tried to say something normal. “Hey, Doc. I take it we both fell asleep?”

“Uh-huh. You set me up, didn’t you?” he accused her. “That’s why you volunteered to come here. Because you knew I’d fall asleep the first chance I had to sit down.”

“Yeah, I did set you up. But I’d heard you were up all night with that boy in the car accident. It wasn’t going to kill you to be taken care of for a change.”

“Yeah, well, two can play that manipulative game. I called Myrt earlier so she’d know where you were, said you’d fallen asleep. She said she already knew where you were, and the baby’s fine and to stay put.”

“What time is it?”

“A few minutes after two. Are you awake enough to talk about something serious?”

“Um…give me a five-minute time-out, okay?” She hightailed it out of the room, washed her hands, brushed her hair, slapped on lipstick, and came back with two mugs of instant coffee. “Now I’m ready,” she said, but as she sat back down, she felt stiff with worry. What she wanted to do as far as Justin’s marriage proposal, and what she thought they should do were two different things. While she was trying to marshal her thoughts into something tactful and coherent, though, he started talking.

“Win…I need to tell you about some jewels.”

“Jewels?” She asked blankly.

“Yes. You know the old town legend? How back in the War with Mexico, one of our Texas boys, Ernest Langley, came across a wounded soldier and tried to save him. The man died, but our Ernest found three jewels on the old guy, brought them home to Royal, planned to live high on them-but the way life worked out, he didn’t have to, because oil was discovered on his land. So he quietly donated the jewels to the old mission to secure the future of the town. Basically that was how the Texas Cattleman’s Club came to be. The original founder, Tex Langley, grandson of Ernest, brought a group of men together who were charged with protecting the jewels, using them to keep the town prosperous and for the town’s greater good through the generations. They built the Club right next to the old mission.”

“Um, Justin? I was raised on that legend. Everyone in Royal knows it. Except for the part about the Texas Cattleman’s Club, anyway.” She was wide-awake now, but of all the things she was tensed up to discuss with him, old legends weren’t remotely on the list.

“Just bear with me, okay? Those three jewels were an emerald, an opal and a diamond. Only, each of them were extraordinary jewels of their kind. The opal was a black harlequin, of a size and color that made it especially rare. It was an old tradition for judges to wear amulets of opal, because the stone was said to give the wearer the power of justice and healing.”

“Um, Justin-”

“The emerald was a particularly big sucker, and through history, emeralds were considered the stone of peacemakers. Those first two gems were priceless to a collector, because they were so unusual in themselves, but the third stone was a red diamond. You see one, you’ll likely never see another, because they’re that rare, that precious. And red diamonds, of course, were symbolically the stones of kings, likely because only the most powerful men could possibly own them. So that’s how we chose the sign for our Texas Cattleman’s Club-Justice, Leadership and Peace. Because of those stones.”

“Uh-huh. Justin-” she started impatiently.

“They were stolen.”

“Ju- What?”

“The stones-the ones in the legend-were always real. So was the legend. It all happened. It was never just a story, it was always the truth. The soldier dying, our Texas boy finding the jewels, his grandson deciding to use them to secure the future of the town by forming the Texas Cattleman’s Club. And over the years, the group has slowly, quietly taken on other kinds of protectorate roles. I’d like to think that there’s always someone willing to stand up to protect the innocent. To step in when no one else wants to-or when there is no one else-to help someone who needs it.”

Winona weakly waved a hand. “How about if you let me catch my breath for a second and a half? You just gave me a lot to take in. This is all related to where you disappear to sometimes, isn’t it? The times you’ve let everyone think you’re some kind of playboy doc, taking a spur-of-the-moment luxury cruise with your latest woman-”

“Nah. I don’t do cruises. Every once in a while, maybe I do something for the group. But back to the theft of the jewels-”

“Yes. For God’s sake. Let’s go back to the theft-”

He hunched forward, looking serious again. “Someone on the flight to Asterland stole the jewels. We didn’t know they were gone until four of our Club members went to examine the plane a few days ago. There was a reason we were included in the investigation. The Texas Cattleman’s Club was involved in helping Princess Anna, had a leading role in getting those two countries talking again, so we were more familiar with their diplomatic problems and the personalities than any other outsiders-”

“Yes, that’s why you had the whole party a few weeks ago.”

Justin nodded. “And so far, no one has uncovered an explanation for the plane’s mechanical problems-whether the problems were accidental or sabotage. Because there’s been so much friction between the countries, obviously sabotage was, and is, a serious concern. The point, though, is that when we started searching for evidence on the plane, instead of finding clues to the mechanical problems-by complete accident, we found two of our jewels. The opal and the emerald.”

“My God.” Her head was starting to reel from the implications of everything he was telling her.

Justin nodded again. “But we didn’t find the red diamond. It’s still missing. When the men went back to the Club-to the safe where the jewels were kept-we found the safe wide-open and Riley Monroe dead. Murdered. Apparently by the jewel thief.”

“Holy kamoly. I don’t understand-”

“Neither do we, Win. That’s why I’m telling you all this. The situation has gotten more touchy by the day. The group mutually determined that we need someone on the police force that we could absolutely trust…and naturally, you’re it. As soon as I said your name, the others clicked with it.” He scalped a hand through his hair. “I realize you’re not directly part of the investigation related to Monroe’s murder, but that’s not the point.”

Winona stopped trying to talk. She was just listening. Hard.

“The complications just keep coming. For one thing, the last thing we want to do is publicly accuse anyone from Asterland or Obersbourg of stealing the jewels. Now that those two countries have finally achieved an uneasy peace, we don’t want to fire up tempers again, or risk an international incident. But that means that the investigation into the jewel theft-and Riley Monroe’s murder-needs to be done quietly. And tougher than that…” Justin stood up with an impatient sigh and rolled his shoulders.

“…tougher than that…is that the Texas Cattleman’s Club has kept the jewels a secret for generations now. For a good cause. We were able to keep our little expeditions and missions quiet, for the same reason. If we blow our cover, we blow our ability to help people-at least in the private ways we’ve been able to do in the past. If the truth about the jewels has to come out, then that’s the way it is. But we’d rather it didn’t get out. It would be different if we were just positive there was a connection between the plane crash and Riley’s murder and the jewel theft. We’re not. We don’t know that. We don’t know anything for sure. Not right now.”

Finally she could see where he was leading. “Okay. You’re obviously telling me this for a reason. What do you need me to do?”

In the intimacy of firelight, his gaze seemed to glow and soften on her face. “Win…I don’t like putting you on the spot. But until we sort this out, we need someone we can trust inside the police force. Someone who can help us evaluate what facts go where, help us keep things quiet that don’t have to be public. Someone, for that matter, who can brainstorm with us over the clues we’ve got going…I don’t mean that the police chief would be unaware of what we’re asking you. But he’s not our man, because there’d be nothing but a conflict of interest problem for him. We need someone else. Someone who’s judgment we trust. Whose integrity we trust. We need the kind of person who everyone felt we could be comfortably and completely honest with-”

“Justin-?”

“What?”

She surged to her feet.