The Cop

While Cole slept, she studied him. In the way that sleep softens features, his had modified to more a boyish cast, but he still looked far from innocent. He was a handsome man, but he reminded her more of a battle-scarred gladiator than a romantic Lancelot. The creases bisecting his forehead, though relaxed, were permanently etched there, and his jaw was clenched—probably a permanent state, as well.

An old scar carved a crescent on his left cheekbone, and another furrowed through his beard at his chin. His nose looked as if it had been rearranged a couple of times, and a lone pockmark faintly pitted his cheek an inch below the thick, dark sweep of lashes. The scar was probably the result of childhood chicken pox or adolescent acne, and it made him somehow seem more…vulnerable. Well, maybe not vulnerable.

The whole package that was Cole Outlaw made her toes curl and her fingers itch to run themselves through the waves of his thick hair and over the planes of his face and—

She squirmed in the seat and turned her attention to a mockingbird sitting on a power line. What was with her? Good Lord, she felt as giddy as a high school girl.

After about twenty minutes, Kelly gently shook Cole awake.

He sat up with a start, instantly alert and scowling.

“We’re home,” she announced in her perkiest voice.

“Home?”

“The Twilight Inn.”

“The old place looks a lot different from the last time I saw it.”

“Which was?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe five, ten years ago. It was a dump.”

“It was boarded up and falling down when Mary Beth started renovations last spring. A lot of folks pitched in and helped. Now it’s a charming little motel,” she said, motioning to the row of neatly painted units with yellow chrysanthemums still blooming in the window boxes. “And the restaurant has been refurbished as well. Mary Beth serves the best lunch in town.”

“No breakfast or dinner?”

“Nope,” she said, “but I bought some breakfast items at the grocery store, and one of the guys will bring you an extra meal at lunch to stash in the fridge for dinner.”

She hopped out and got the wheelchair from the trunk. By the time she got to the passenger door, Cole was struggling to get out.

When he saw her with the chair, he waved her away. “If you’ll hand me my walker, I can make it in.”

“Humor me this time and let me push.”

He started to argue, then clamped his mouth shut and sat down in the wheelchair. They hadn’t gone three steps when the office door opened and the four old guys spilled out.

“Land sakes,” one of them said, sticking out his hand to Cole. “I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. Bet you don’t remember me.”

“I sure do, Howard, but it looks like you’ve lost a little more on top.”

Howard cackled and ran his hand over a head covered only by a few liver spots and a pink patch or two. “That’s for sure. Then you probably remember B.D. and Curtis and Will here.”

After Cole shook hands with all the men, Will said, “Need some help getting in?”

“I have some things in the back seat and in the trunk,” Kelly said.

“You supervise the unloading,” B.D. told Kelly, “and I’ll roll Cole inside.” B.D. was wisp thin and looked as if a powder puff could knock him over. When Cole appeared concerned about the prospect of an eightysomething guy pushing him, the old fellow must have caught the wary expression. He patted Cole’s shoulder and said, “Don’t you worry none, son. I’ve handled one of these contraptions more times than you can shake a stick at.”

He proceeded to expertly wheel Cole into the office unit while the other domino players brought the rest of the items from Kelly’s car.

The apartment behind the office was more like a small suite: two rooms, one with a kitchenette in the corner, and a bathroom. The main room, which had been Mary Beth’s, held only a few pieces of furniture including a sofa and a large leather recliner. Cole settled in the recliner, and Kelly stood his walker next to it.

“There you go,” Howard said, setting the last of the grocery bags on a small table in the kitchen corner. “We’ll get on about our game. You need anything, Cole, just give a holler.”

“I’ll do it, Howard. Thank you.”

“You might have to holler twice,” Will said with a wink. “Couple of us are a mite hard of hearing.”

“He don’t have to holler,” Curtis said. “All he has to do is push that little button right there.” Curtis pointed out the intercom on the phone base beside Cole.

After the old fellows said their goodbyes and left, Kelly took off her sweater and draped it over the back of a chair in the kitchen nook. She stowed the perishables in the small fridge and the other groceries in a cabinet under the microwave, listing the items to Cole as she worked.

“You should have plenty for a simple breakfast and for snacks.” She picked up another large shopping bag. “And I bought you some new sweats and things—without holes.” She grinned.

He glanced down at his shirt where the “HPD PIGS” across the chest was faded almost to oblivion. “You don’t like my football outfit?”

“It’s charming, but I think it’s nearing retirement.” She stashed the new clothes in the chest by the bathroom door. “Your pajamas are in the top drawer here.”

“I don’t wear pajamas.”

Her heart tripped. She didn’t dare look at him. “You have several pair.”

“My mom bought them.”

“Oh.” She closed the drawer and turned. Playing perky again, she said, “Let’s see. The bedroom is through there. The bathroom is here. I put your shaving kit on the counter. The fridge and the microwave and the coffeepot are over there. The remote for the TV is on the table beside you with the phone. I guess that about covers it.” Why was she babbling? She took a deep breath. “Want something to drink?”

“Yeah. A beer would be nice.”

“Sorry. No beer with the medication you’re on. You may have Coke, cream soda, milk, orange juice, apple juice, tomato juice or water. Or coffee. And Mary Beth left a big plate of brownies.”

“A cup of coffee would taste good. And the whole plate of brownies. Join me?”

“Only if I can have two brownies,” she said as she poured water into the coffeemaker. “I’m a sucker for chocolate.”

“I’ll arm wrestle you for them.”

She laughed. “Don’t look so smug. I’m stronger than I look. I could probably take you two out of three.”

His playfulness vanished. “In the condition I’m in, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Fighting the urge to sigh, Kelly said, “Don’t use that as an excuse, buster. I could probably take you on your best day.”

There was a flicker at the corner of his mouth. “Okay. I’ll let you have a brownie.”

“Two.”

“Okay, two. I’m easy.”

She doubted that. Her instincts told her that nothing about Cole Outlaw was easy. While the coffee dripped, Kelly curled up on the couch. “How did the therapy go?”

Cole shrugged. He shrugged a lot. He didn’t seem to be much of a talker.

“Your dad said that either he or one of the domino guys will drive you to your appointments.”

“He told me. You’re not from around here are you, Red?”

She shook her head. “I’m originally from Dallas. And my name is Kelly.”

“How’d you get from Dallas to Naconiche?”

“I drove.”

Cole let out a short bark of laughter. “Let me rephrase that…Kelly. What happened between the time you were a kid in Dallas and your arriving in Naconiche as a doctor?”

“You want the long version or the short?”

“Let’s start with the short, and we’ll flesh it out later.”

“Well, I grew up in Dallas.”

“Big family?”

“I had a younger sister, but she died when I was in junior high. Leukemia.”

“Parents?”

“One of each,” she said. “My mom is president of a bank, and my dad is a biology professor at SMU.”

His eyebrows went up. “Interesting. Did you go to SMU?”

“Nope. I went to the University of Texas. Your brother Frank’s fiancée and I were sorority sisters there. How about you?”

“I never joined a sorority.”

Kelly smiled. “I meant where did you go to school?”

“Sam Houston in Huntsville. It has the best criminal justice department in the state. Why did you decide to become a doctor?”

“I’m not sure. Probably because I was always good at science, and I wanted to help people. Maybe losing my little sister had something to do with it.” She got up and poured coffee and brought the brownies over to where they were sitting. “Why did you become a cop?”

“It’s in the genes. All the Outlaws are cops of one sort or another.”

“I haven’t read anything in the research that suggests career choice is genetic.” She polished off her first brownie and reached for another. “These are good. Mary Beth is a great cook.”

“Yep. J.J.’s a lucky man. How did you get from sorority girl to doctor to here?”

“I went to medical school in Houston and did my internship and residency there and stayed on to work for a while. I learned that one of the doctors in Naconiche was retiring, and I applied to work with him and take his place. And here I am.”

“You never married?”

“Nope. I never had time. You?”

“Once. It didn’t take. I learned I’m not the marrying kind.”

For some reason Kelly’s heart sank, which was silly. She barely knew the man. And as soon as he was rehabilitated, he’d go back to Houston. Nothing about him indicated that he was a candidate for a relationship. Still, she had a mighty urge to swan dive into those marvelous, mysterious eyes.

She stood. “I’ve got to run. You need to rest, and I have to check on a couple of patients at the hospital. Need anything before I go?”

“Not a thing. Say, I want to pay you for the stuff you bought, but I don’t have any money or a checkbook. You take a credit card?”

She laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I charged the clothes to you at Olsen’s, and the groceries are on me.”

“Thanks, Red.”

“Kelly.”

“Kelly. Come back and visit sometime.”

“I will.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a promise.”

As soon as she left Kelly realized that she’d left her sweater behind. Oh, blast it! Now both her jacket and her sweater were there. Freudian slip? An excuse to return? Maybe. Cole was an intriguing man, and she couldn’t deny that she was affected by him. She would drop by tomorrow night after aerobics class and pick up her forgotten items.

COLE DECIDED he wanted another cup of coffee, but he quickly learned that he couldn’t carry a full mug and navigate with it and the walker back to the recliner. He cursed and drank the coffee standing up. When he finished he noticed the brown sweater hanging on the back of the straight chair.

He picked the soft garment up and sniffed it. A faint scent of spices and field flowers. The material smelled of her—just like the jacket she’d left behind. He hung the sweater over his walker and moved back to his recliner to sit down. Wadding the sweater in both hands, he buried his face in it and breathed deeply. He was bone tired, but not too tired to imagine what it would feel like to have the woman under the fabric. He felt himself stir.

Oh, hell! he thought, disgusted with his behavior. Now that he was a cripple, he was turning into one of those perverts who got off on fetishes. He started to throw the sweater across the room, but he couldn’t quite make himself let go. He dropped it across his lap and reached for another brownie.

Chapter Three

He’d learned a lot in the past twenty-four hours, Cole thought as he poured coffee into the Thermos. Mostly tips from Dan Robert during his therapy session. Now he had snap-on bags and a basket on his walker that reminded him of the gear on his bike when he was a kid. He stuck the Thermos in one of the side pockets, a mug into another and made it back to his chair without worrying about spills.

B.D. and Curtis had driven him to the hospital that afternoon, and his dad had picked him up. He’d been too tired to talk much with his dad. In fact, he’d fallen asleep soon after they returned to the motel. He hadn’t awakened until J.J. stopped by about five. He hadn’t stayed long.

Sometime later, the doorbell rang, and Cole opened the door between the apartment and the office. He smiled when he saw Kelly Martin standing there in a bright green sweat suit, her hair wadded on top of her head and held by a big yellow clip.

“You look like a leprechaun.”

She grinned. “Leprechauns are wee folks. At close to six feet, I’m more like the Jolly Green Giant.”

“You’re not six feet tall.”

“Near enough. I’m almost five-ten.”

“That’s two inches, and two inches can make a world of difference.”

She raised her eyebrows, an amused expression on her face. “Really?”

“Yep. If that bullet in my chest had been two inches over, I’d be dead.”

“And if you’d been wearing a protective vest, you wouldn’t have had more than a bruise.”

“I wasn’t planning on a shoot-out.”

She touched his face and ran her fingers lightly along his jaw. “You’ve shaved.”

“Yeah. This morning. Want a cup of coffee?”

“Thanks, but I don’t have time. I’m on my way to aerobics class next door. I hope we don’t disturb you. The music can get pretty loud.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

“Not a thing. Maybe you can stop by after your class. I have a couple of those brownies left.”

“Don’t tempt me. I wish I could, but I have to make rounds at the hospital.”

“Some other time then.”

“It’s a deal. See you later.” With a flutter of her fingers, she was gone.

He stood there for a few minutes after she left, feeling funny. Uplifted, he thought, trying to put a word to his feelings. No, that was dumb. Sounded like a spiritual experience in a tent revival.

He pushed his walker back to the recliner, eased into the seat and sat there for a minute, the backs of his fingers absently brushing his jaw. Then he dry washed his face with his hands and turned on an old Gunsmoke rerun.

KELLY WAS STRIPPING down to her exercise shorts when the door to Unit 2 opened. She glanced up toward the new arrival and was delighted to see the dark-haired woman who entered. “Hey, Carrie! When did you get into town?”

“This afternoon.”

“And you’re in exercise class instead of with your fiancée?”

Carrie Campbell, an old sorority sister from UT days and newfound friend, was engaged to Judge Frank Outlaw. She was a landman for an oil company and finishing up some projects before she moved to Naconiche and set up a law practice.

“Frank wanted to talk with his brother Cole, so I thought I’d drop by and sweat with the gang for a few minutes,” Carrie said, smiling and waving to some of the other women gathered. “I’m going over to meet Cole after Frank has time to use his persuasive skills.”

“His persuasive skills?”

“Yep. Seems that Cole has announced that he isn’t going to J.J. and Mary Beth’s wedding.”

“For heaven’s sake, why not?” Kelly asked.

“Search me. I think J.J.’s feelings are hurt, and Miss Nonie’s beside herself. Frank’s going to, quote, ‘try to talk some sense into him.”’

Mary Beth Parker, soon to be Outlaw, hurried in. “Sorry I’m late, gang, but it seems as if I have a million things to do. Wanted to remind you that I won’t be here next week.” She grinned. “We’ll be on our honeymoon, but Beverly will take over the class for me while I’m gone. Bev, will you get the music?”

“Listen, my friend,” Carrie said to Kelly as they lined up, “I’m going to be swamped with all the family doings tomorrow, but I’ll see you at the wedding on Saturday. I’m eager to catch up on all the latest.”

“Great.”

KELLY GOT A BEEP from the hospital about the time the exercise class was over. One of her patients was having problems, so instead of going home to shower and change first, she headed immediately to Naconiche Memorial.

She knew she was in trouble when she spotted Warren Iverson and his wife at the nurses’ station. The moment Mr. Iverson caught sight of her in sweats and damp hair, his beady eyes popped, and his bulldog jowls began to quiver. Mrs. Iverson stood beside him like a cornered mouse. Warren Iverson was one of the few human beings on Earth who she could actually say she detested. Unfortunately he was the chairman of the hospital board. And to put it mildly, she wasn’t on his Christmas card list, either.

He looked her up and down as if she were a fresh pile he’d just stepped in. “Dr. Martin!”

She forced a bit of a smile with her curt nod. “Mr. Iverson. Mrs. Iverson.”

“I can’t believe that you’re in the hospital dressed like that!”

Biting her lip to hold back a stinging reply, she simply shrugged and stepped around him to get her patient’s chart and speak with the nurse. Bedamned if she was going to make excuses to that jerk, nor was she going to be goaded into creating a scene. He would love an excuse to yank her hospital privileges.

Watching him from the corner of her eye, Kelly saw his mouth working like a hooked catfish and steeled herself for another assault. Thankfully it didn’t come. Mrs. Iverson timidly tugged at his coat sleeve, and he stalked down the hall.

Lorene Cuthbert, the middle-aged R.N. at the station, glared after Iverson. “Sanctimonious old fart!” she muttered as she and Kelly went in the opposite direction. “What does he have against you anyhow?”

Kelly chuckled. “Maybe he doesn’t like redheads.”

But that wasn’t what he had against her. Kelly knew exactly why Warren Iverson hated her. He had found the birth control pills that Kelly had prescribed for his daughter Rachel. Forget that Rachel was eighteen. Forget that she was sleeping with most of the single men in town and a few of the married ones. Forget that Kelly had talked with her repeatedly about the physical dangers of her behavior. Iverson had found the pills and gone into a rage, calling Rachel a whore and calling Kelly worse. When his daughter turned up pregnant a few months later, he threw her out of the house and blamed everything on Kelly for encouraging such abominable and licentious behavior.

Kelly shook off the effects of her encounter with him and put on a pleasant face for her patient.

Mrs. Phelps, an eighty-seven-year-old widow, smiled sweetly as they entered her room. “Now, don’t you look pretty in green?”

“Why, thank you,” Kelly said. “I hope I don’t smell like a horse. I’ve been to aerobics class.”

“With Mary Beth? I liked going to her seniors stretching class when I felt up to it. I hate to miss her wedding. She will be such a beautiful bride, and J.J. will be a handsome groom.”

Kelly only smiled and listened to Mrs. Phelps’s frail heart. This was the hardest part of being a doctor. There was very little she could do except to make her patient as comfortable as possible. Oh, how she wished the hospice program was in place already. She’d been working to get it going for a couple of years, and, if luck was with them, it would be up and running in a few months.

But too late for Mrs. Phelps.

AT SEVEN FORTY-FIVE on Friday morning Kelly heard a car drive up in front and a door slam. She lifted a slat on the miniblind to look out. Why she bothered, she didn’t know. As always, it was Gladys Sowell, her maid, climbing from the back seat of Naconiche’s only taxi and gathering her black coat around her. Taxi fare was part of her pay. There were no buses in Naconiche, but the taxi fare was nominal and the driver, Gladys’s cousin, dependable.

A stocky woman with graying hair gathered up in a bun, Gladys was in her midfifties but looked older. She arrived every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at seven forty-five on the button to feed the cats and Kelly, do laundry and keep the house spotless. A better housekeeper than she was a cook, she also cleaned the office rooms every afternoon at a reduced rate in exchange for medical attention. Since she was a terrible hypochondriac, Gladys probably got the best end of the deal, but she was a legacy along with the retiring doctor’s practice.

Kelly finished dressing and walked into the kitchen where Gladys was feeding the cats and talking baby talk to them. Rocky and Pierre adored Gladys, and they were winding themselves around her legs as she pulled off her coat and put on her apron. Kelly had given her the coat last Christmas.

“Mornin’, Dr. Kelly. How ’bout some bacon and eggs and biscuits?”

“Just fruit and cereal this morning, thanks.” Gladys’s idea of breakfast was greasier than anything at the City Grill. “How are you today?”

“Only tolerable. I had a sour stomach all night last night, and it kept me up and down a right smart.”

“Have you been taking your medicine and watching your diet?”

“I’ve run out of them little purple capsules.”

Kelly knew it was futile to scold Gladys about her diet. “I’ll leave some samples at the office for you.”

“And I’m out of my nerve pills, too.”

“I’ll get some from my bag.” She kept a supply of Gladys’s harmless “nerve pills” in an unmarked vial and dispensed them a few at a time.

“I’ll have you some oatmeal done in just a jiffy. It’s cold as a cast-iron commode out there, and you need something to stick to your ribs. You’re likely to be busy today.”

Gladys turned out to be right. Kelly had a booger of a day. It seemed that half her patients had ailments, and two emergencies kept her at the hospital until after eleven that night. Even her cats, Pierre and Rocky, yowled at her when she walked in the door.

“Sorry, guys,” she said as she scooped some food into their dishes and gave them fresh water. “I’m pooped. Don’t wake me early in the morning or you’re toast.”

She fell into bed and slept until almost eight. She would have slept longer except that she had two phone calls. One was a patient in labor, the other was Nonie Outlaw. She returned Miss Nonie’s call on her way to the hospital.

“Dr. Kelly, I’m at my wit’s end,” Miss Nonie said. She sounded distraught and near tears. “It’s Cole.”

Kelly’s heart gave a lurch. “What’s wrong?”

“He refuses to go to J.J. and Mary Beth’s wedding. We couldn’t even pry him out to go to the rehearsal and dinner last night. Everybody in the family has tried to talk to him, but he’s a stubborn as Vick Trawick’s mule. I—I thought that since you seem to have a way with Cole that perhaps you could persuade him.”

“Does he have a suit to wear?”

“Frank was going to lend him one, but nobody would care if he came in pajamas and bathrobe.”

He would, Kelly thought. “I’m on my way to the hospital now, Miss Nonie, but tell Frank that I’ll drop by and pick up the dress clothes when I’m done. The wedding’s at three, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but the clothes are already at the inn. Everything is hanging in a bag in the office. Frank left it there last night—in case Cole changed his mind.”

“I’ll do my best, Miss Nonie. Stop worrying about Cole and enjoy the day.”

BY THE TIME Kelly got home, showered, tamed her hair and dressed in a rust-colored outfit, it was after one-thirty. She ate half a protein bar on the way to the Twilight Inn.

When she walked into the office, she saw the garment bag hanging on a hook behind the desk. Picking up the clothes, she took a deep breath then knocked on the door to the apartment.

Cole opened the door wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of the new sweatpants she’d bought. He gave her the once-over, then smiled. “You look mighty fine, Red. Going somewhere?”

“I am. To a wedding, and I need a date.”

“Can’t help you there. But I can offer you a cup of coffee.”

“Got any brownies left?” she asked as she breezed by him with the garment bag.

“Nope. Ate the last one this morning for breakfast.”

“With your eggs?”

“Instead of my eggs.”

“Works for me,” Kelly said. “Had lunch?”

“Yep. You?”

“Yep. Take off your pants.”