The Lawman's Honor

One corner of Heath’s mouth moved the slightest bit as if he wanted to engage but didn’t quite have the energy. “Cowboy?”

“Austin’s a rancher. His place is a few more miles up this road and then back down a gravel road another mile and a half. Or did I tell you that already?”

“Boonies.”

The comment was both apt and revealing. “Where are you from, Heath? Are you a city boy?”

He went silent again though Cassie was pretty sure he was conscious. It was as if he had to think about his answers. Either he’d had his memory knocked sideways or he was avoiding the question, something that made no sense. The headache must be taking a toll on his thought processes.

Finally, as though his mouth was parched, he moistened his lips again and muttered, “Houston.”

“Texas?”

He managed a wry glance, one eyebrow arched the tiniest bit. “Is there any other?”

Good. He was sounding better. Texans were a proud lot.

“Surprised, because I’m from Texas, too. Austin and I moved here from outside of Dallas. We’ve been here a long time, but Mom and Dad still live there. That’s where I’ve been this week. A friend got married and I was in the wedding.” She smiled a little at the memory of her old friend so much in love. She’d suffered a bite of the green-eyed monster, too, normal she supposed even though she never expected to fall in love again. “I did some shopping, ate Mama’s cooking. Gained weight. Fun times.”

That brought about as much response as kissing a mirror. She glanced at the clock on the dash, fretting again. Where was Austin? He should have been here by now. She was growing weary of trying to carry on a one-sided conversation with a disturbingly attractive, head-injured man during a pretty scary thunderstorm. But keeping him alert, or at least awake, was imperative. Wasn’t it?

She should have paid more attention in first aid classes.

“I do hair,” she said. Okay, that was lame, but what was she supposed to talk about to a total stranger who didn’t give her much to work with? “I’m good at it, too.”

Not that you could tell right now, with her straight black layers plastered flat against her head and dripping all over his leather interior.

“’Scuse me?” His eyelids lifted to half-staff. He had noticeably long lashes, thick and spiky, that shadowed his cheekbones. Thick eyebrows slashed above his eyes. No wax. She would know. She did plenty of wax jobs, even on men, though some of them swore her to secrecy.

“I’m a hairstylist. I do nails, too. My partner, Louise, and I run the Tress and Tan Salon in Whisper Falls.” She wiggled her fingers at him. Her nails were acrylic, a tidy length but decorated with tiny tuxedoes in honor of the wedding. “Need a mani-pedi?”

His face was still too pale, but he managed a faint smile. More of a grimace, really, but an attempt to stay awake. “If I have any toes left.”

Ouch. “My brother should be here soon. Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here and that pedicure will be on the house. All ten toes.”

“Optimist.” The word had weakened, tapering off at the end so that it sounded more like ‘optimisss.’ Not good. Come on, Austin.

“Do you always drive off into strange places during raging thunderstorms? And why Whisper Falls? Visiting relatives?” When he didn’t answer, she touched his arm. “Come on, Heath, stay awake.”

“Late start.” He was trying. She’d give him that much. “GPS...not too dependable.”

“You got lost. Figures. Anyone can get lost out here.” And he probably had been too proud and stubborn to stop and ask directions. Darrell had been like that, confident the location was right around the corner. “Mountains and trees are not impressed by modern technology.”

He closed his eyes again, worrying Cassie. The car engine was still engaged, and a quick glance at the dash indicated plenty of gas. At least he’d had the presence of mind to fill up sometime in the recent past. They were warm and secure, the thunderstorm subsiding somewhat as it moved toward the east, though the rumbles continued and lightning flickered.

“Thunderstorms here are pretty spectacular. The noise echoes for miles.” His cheek twitched but he didn’t answer. Cassie reached for his pulse. “Are you still with me?”

“Yeah.” The word was barely a whisper.

Was he bleeding internally? Going into shock? Cassie’s mind raced, but all she could come up with were scenes from General Hospital and crazy words like subdural hematoma. Whatever that was.

The car grew silent. Cassie thought she should be doing something proactive but didn’t know what. So she sat beside the injured man and chatted away about Whisper Falls and every single head of hair she’d ever groomed, praying that Austin and an emergency crew would get here soon. The man would know more about Whisper Falls than she did—if he could remember.

“Heath?” she said, shaking his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered up. Did they look more glazed now than before?

“You’re pretty,” he mumbled. “Got a boyfriend?”

Yes, he was delusional. Delirious. Poor man.

“No. My husband died.”

“Sorry.”

Not wanting to discuss Darrell’s death, she shifted the topic to him. “What about you? Any significant other I should call? Girlfriend? Wife?”

“No more.”

Okay, so he was either divorced or had recently broken it off with a girlfriend or worse, like her, his spouse had died. A curl of empathy circled through her. Being alone hurt. No matter how she’d tried to fill her life with activities, she missed the closeness of being a couple. She missed Darrell. In fact, she’d been missing him the day she’d climbed Whisper Falls. And guess what? Her prayer hadn’t been answered. She was still laughing at herself over that silly episode.

“Who are you visiting in Whisper Falls?”

“Police chief.”

“JoEtta Farnsworth?”

“Know her?”

His words were definitely slurring.

“Everyone in Whisper Falls knows Chief Farnsworth. Tough, fair and...eccentric to say the least. Are you related?”

The chief had kids somewhere but Cassie couldn’t recall whether they were male or female or where they lived. One thing for certain, they didn’t come around Whisper Falls too often. Heath’s last name was different but that didn’t mean much these days, and if Heath was the chief’s son, he was a jerk of the first order for never coming to see his mother. JoEtta was gruff and rough but a good person.

Whatever the connection, Heath didn’t answer. The car went silent again except for the endless drip of rain from the overhanging trees.

“Heath?”

He didn’t move.

She touched him. “Heath.”

He didn’t respond.

“Come on, pal, stay with me. I don’t like it when you take naps. It’s not fair. You can’t nap if I can’t.”

Heart in her throat, she grabbed his wrist, felt for a pulse. A thready beat pulsated against her fingertips.

“Heath, wake up. Talk to me.”

He didn’t.

Help needed to get here and it needed to get here now.

Chapter Two

Cassie pulled out her cell phone and tried again to reach her brother. She had one single bar of service but maybe that was enough. When Austin didn’t answer, she punched in 911 once more. Before the call could connect, she heard the wail of a siren.

She almost melted in relief. Thank You, Lord.

“They’re here, Heath.” She patted his shoulder. “You’ll be okay now. Hang tight. I’m going up to the road to direct them down to you.”

She didn’t know if the handsome stranger heard her or not, but she shoved the door open and raced up the steep incline, heedless of the brambles that were every bit as relentless on the ascent as they were coming down. Her breath came in short gasps as she tried to hurry.

She saw Austin’s truck first and though light rain peppered her skin, she rushed toward her parked car and flipped on the headlights. Austin wheeled in next to her and leaped out of the truck.

“You okay?” Her tall, cowboy brother was a born protector.

“Soaked. Cold but all right. The guy in the SUV isn’t doing so hot, though.”

“You look like a drowned rat.” Austin reached back inside the truck and pulled out a jacket, handing it to her. “Put this on.”

Grateful for the warmth, she slid her arms into his oversize fleece.

About that time, the Whisper Falls’s volunteer fire and rescue truck arrived. The crew varied, but tonight was not the usual group of volunteers. As the siren died away, Mayor Rusty Fairchild, a fresh-faced Opie look-alike hopped out of the cab in a warm-looking yellow slicker and rain boots, accompanied by Evangeline Perryman and paramedic Creed Carter.

The police chief pulled in right behind the rescue truck. Suddenly the dark night was bright with vehicle lights and people carrying brilliant halogen spotlights.

With a sense of profound relief, Cassie had never been so glad to see human beings in her life. People she knew and trusted. Good people, who made up in love and commitment what they lacked in fancy equipment.

“Where’s the patient?” Creed Carter asked. She was especially glad to see Creed. The husband of her close friend Haley the chopper pilot was medic trained in the military and often ran medi-flights out of the mountains. He was cool as ice water in an emergency and always seemed to know what to do.

“Down there.” She pointed her flashlight. “His leg is trapped. Not sure how bad, and I think he has a head injury. He was talking but—”

“Trapped?” Creed whirled toward Evangeline, a large, rawboned hill woman who lived with a pig. Literally. Cassie should know, she painted the pig’s toenails for special occasions. “We’ll need the ram.”

The crew grabbed a tackle box of gear, a length of hose, and something that looked like a small generator and followed Cassie through the damaged brush and trees to the accident site.

In seconds the crew, along with Austin and JoEtta, swarmed the still-running SUV. Cassie realized she was shaking all over, an adrenaline flush, she supposed, in addition to the cold and wet. She wanted to climb back into the car with Heath and make sure he was all right but there didn’t appear to be room. Evangeline was in the front seat, taking vital signs while Creed shined a penlight at Heath’s pupils.

She wasn’t needed now, though she’d developed an odd kind of bond with the stranger and was reluctant to leave. So she stood a few feet away, shivering, and watched as the rescuers did their work.

A boom of thunder shook the earth. Rain started to fall again, peppering her and the rescuers.

“Go to the car,” Austin called, looking up from his spot next to Creed. The two men, both strong and fit, were wedging some sort of long, metal tool between the door post and the dash.

She wasn’t leaving. Not until she knew Heath would be all right. They were in this thing together. And she owed him a pedicure. “Is he okay?”

“He’s still with us.”

That was something anyway.

“Did you call Moreburg for an ambulance?” The town of Whisper Falls had no hospital and had to depend on a nearby town or Creed Carter’s helicopter for medical transport. She doubted he could fly in this storm.

“’Course I did.” The police chief pushed away from the SUV where she’d been shining her light on the impact site and clumped to Cassie’s side, gear rattling. Over fifty and gruff as a Rottweiler, JoEtta Farnsworth was a career police officer with more quirks than this road had curves. Dressed in her usual leather vest and brown boots, tonight she was minus the aviator goggles and helmet she normally wore on her scooter patrols through Whisper Falls. Instead, she’d wisely worn a flat-brimmed hat. “They may be a while.”

“Creed can’t fly in this weather.”

“Nope. Don’t worry, we’ve handled emergencies up here before. Problem though, we’ve got our hands full in town, too.”

“What’s going on?”

“Tornado touched down on the east edge.”

“A tornado? Oh, no!” Remembering the violent thunderstorm, Cassie shouldn’t have been surprised. “Is anyone hurt?”

“Got people out checking. State police will be along as soon as they can to help out. Mostly looks like trees and power lines down, but we won’t know for a while, it being dark and all, and you never can tell for sure until daylight.”

“Was there damage to any of the businesses?” Her shop was smack in the middle of the main street area.

JoEtta gave her a long look. “Don’t know yet, missy. We’re doing the best we can, and then this feller has to run his car off in a ravine.”

“I’m sure he did it to annoy you, Chief.”

JoEtta snorted. “I figure you’re right. What happened here? Did you witness the accident?”

“I saw him lose control, saw his taillights spin away, but in the dark, I didn’t see him leave the roadway.” She shivered and huddled closer inside the jacket. Austin was right. Drowned rat.

“He was lucky you came along.” The chief peered at the SUV, thinking. “Speeding?”

“I don’t think so. The rain was a deluge and visibility was terrible. I think he probably didn’t see the sharp curve until he was in it.”

“Likely you’re right. He wouldn’t be the first.” Rain trickled off her hat brim. “I didn’t want to get in the way while they were doing the extraction but I stuck my head in. I didn’t notice any alcohol or drug smells, did you?”

“No, nothing like that.” The only smell she recalled was the cologne-scented air freshener dangling from his mirror. “He has a bump on his head.” Suddenly remembering that important detail, she yelled, “Creed, check the left side of his head near the temple.”

“Got it.”

“Was he coherent enough to give his name? Any info about what he was doing out here? Anything at all to help with this investigation?”

In all the excitement, Cassie had forgotten. “He said he was on his way to Whisper Falls to see you. I thought he might be a relative.”

“Me?” The chief’s head spun to the accident and without another word, she stomped toward the SUV and the rough whine of a gas-powered generator. Metal screeched, a high-pitched sound worse than a fork on a plate, as the hydraulic ram slowly pushed the dash away from Heath’s body.

Cassie clenched her back teeth against the noise, fighting a queasy fear about the man’s leg. Praying the rescue wouldn’t damage him more, she trotted to catch up with the police woman. “His name is Heath Monroe. Do you know him?”

“Heath Monroe is my new assistant chief,” JoEtta barked, “if he hasn’t gone and killed himself.”

* * *

“Bust me out of here, Doc.” Heath punched the end icon on his cell phone as the doctor, lab coat flaring out at the sides, breezed into the hospital room. Already this morning, Heath had touched base with Chief Farnsworth and run some digital errands, but being stuck in a Fayetteville hospital felt as confining as a Guatemalan jail cell. To his regret, he’d spent some time there, as well.

“In a hurry to get somewhere?” The doctor tapped a screen on his smartphone and stared at it while they talked. Heath wondered if he was playing fantasy football or reading Heath’s medical reports.

“Yeah, I am.” He was always in a hurry. Criminals didn’t take days off.

Dr. Amil, a short, pleasant-looking physician with white at the temples, stashed the phone in his jacket and unwound a stethoscope from his neck, stuck the ends in his ears and pressed the cold end to Heath’s chest. While he listened to whatever doctors listen for, he asked, “How’s the head?”

“Terrific,” Heath lied. The sucker throbbed with a dull ache and every time he sat up in this humiliating backless gown, he saw spots and felt nauseated. He’d had concussions before. He’d live.

“Any nausea or vomiting?”

Heath huffed. He wanted to roll his eyes but it hurt too much. “I’m all right, Doc. I’ve had worse. Bust me out of here. I have work to do.”

As calm as if his patient wasn’t fidgeting like a six-year-old in church, the doctor removed a penlight from his coat pocket and shined it in Heath’s eyes. “Pupils reactive, equal.” He straightened. “CAT scan was clear, no bleeding. You were lucky. Let’s look at that ankle.”

With a beleaguered sigh, Heath yanked the sheet from his left leg. He was more than lucky. As in all his other close calls, Somebody bigger than him was on duty. “Leg’s just bruised, Doc. Slap a wrap on it and cut me loose.”

Dr. Amil didn’t seem in any hurry to comply. “Just because no bones are broken, doesn’t mean you can get around on this leg, Mr. Monroe. The ligaments and tendons have been sorely stretched as you can tell by the deep purple bruising around the ankle and foot. PT will be up in a while to fit you with a boot.”

Heath audibly groaned. “Please tell me this is a cowboy boot, custom made, fine cowhide. Otherwise, I’m good with a brace.”

The physician chuckled in a flash of white teeth against a swarthy face. “Mr. Monroe, you’re a stubborn man.”

“I’ve been told that. I won’t wear a boot, Doc. Sorry. Don’t bother sending one up. Too bulky. Too restrictive. Bring me a wrap or a brace or something simple and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dr. Amil studied him for a moment, hand to his chin, assessing. Heath always wondered what went on the mind of someone brilliant enough to be a doctor. Even Sam, his best friend from childhood, now an A-1 cardio-thoracic surgeon in Houston, was sometimes on a different wavelength than the rest of the world.

“You’ll regret the decision unless you stay off this leg for a while. Two weeks at least with gradual weight bearing and activity.”

“Understood.”

“Your injuries are mostly minor, nothing rest won’t cure. X-rays and CAT scan are clear, blood work is within normal limits. No need to keep you here any longer, especially since you have made up your mind to leave us.” He offered a small smile. “But you must take it easy and give your body time to heal.”

“Got it. Time heals all wounds.” Which wasn’t exactly true. Time hadn’t healed some of Heath’s deepest wounds. He’d come to grips with them and moved on, but healed? Not happening.

Troubled by his unusually morose thoughts and figuring he was more concussed than he wanted to admit, Heath squirmed, searching for a more comfortable position. In a hospital bed, he seemed to be constantly sliding downhill. The movement shot pain through his rib cage and ankle and set his head awhirl. Running off the road on his way to Whisper Falls had proven very inconvenient. “My new boss is coming to pick me up. Am I good to go when she gets here?”

He’d made a commitment and he planned to keep it even if he was twenty-four hours late and a little banged up.

“As soon as your paperwork is ready, but as I said, take life easy for a few days. No strenuous activity, no heavy lifting or sports. Avoid alcohol, sleep a lot, and you probably shouldn’t make any important decisions for a few days. The nurse will give you a treatment sheet to take with you. It includes problems to look for. If any symptoms worsen, give us a call.”

“Got it.” He wasn’t going to follow through, but he understood the message. Even though the hospital’s overnight hospitality had been superb, he’d had all of it he could endure.

The minute the doctor exited the small room, Heath hobbled out of bed to get dressed. His head spun, making him lean against the wall until the fog cleared. With wry humor, he wondered if his eyes had crossed. To check, he leaned into the mirror for a look. His beard was scraggly. He rubbed a hand over it, wincing at how sore a man could be from a minor accident. After finding a plastic bag containing his clothes, he limped to the shower, eager to get rid of the humiliating gown. In the mirror, he gazed with fascination at the discoloration on his chest and shoulder. No wonder he was sore. The black eye was pretty entertaining, too.

Sore or not, he couldn’t let this unexpected detour deter him from the job he’d been hired to do. He fumbled in the pocket of his jeans for the badge he’d carried every day since he was twelve years old. Running his fingertips over the now-dulled finish and the distinctive Lone Star in the center, he thought of the man who’d given his life to uphold everything this badge stood for. Heath was determined not to let him down.

By the time Chief Farnsworth crashed through the door like a battering ram, Heath had showered and dressed and was sitting in the regulation high-backed uncomfortable chair in the corner of the unit, completely exhausted and furious to be so. The shower had helped clear his head but it hadn’t done much for his aching body.

“Heath Monroe, you’re a heap of trouble. You better live up to your reputation.”

He’d been warned that Chief Farnsworth was tough and blunt. “I plan to.”

She stomped to his chair side and speared him with a long appraisal. “You look like you hit a tree.”

“Feel like it, too.”

“Ha! What’s the doc say?”

“I’m free to go.”

“You’ll need a few days of R and R.”

“No, I’m good to go.”

The chief hackled up like a mad cat. “Don’t argue with me, Monroe. You might be DEA, but I’m the officer in charge.”

“Former DEA, Chief, but you’re right. It’s your town. I’m grateful you took me on.” The slower pace of Whisper Falls was exactly what he wanted, at least for a while. They’d agreed to a six-month trial period, and after that, who knew?

“Feel lucky to get a man like you. Though I have to admit I wonder why you’d want to come to a boring, rural town to play second fiddle to someone like me. Frankly, I wondered if you’d show up.”

“I’m a man of my word.” He took a slow, easy inhale, testing the bruised ribs, proud to hold back a wince. “Boring and quiet sounds good right now.”

“So you said. Burned out. Worn down.”

Those might not have been his exact words but close enough. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. We don’t have much crime, though the rise in tourism has caused a few issues. There was a time I could handle everything myself with a couple of part-timers and the occasional auxiliary for special occasions, but lately...Well, I’m not getting any younger. Having a full-time, experienced assistant chief will take a load off.” She spun a small, straight-backed chair close to his and plopped down. “Now. About you and this accident. You’ll need a few days to get familiar with Whisper Falls and the surrounding area. Might as well use that as healing time. When you start prowling around town on duty, you’ll need to be in top shape.”

Heath figured his definition of top shape and the chief’s were two different things. “How’s my SUV?”

“I had it hauled in to Tommy’s Busted Knuckle after we got you shipped up here last night. You’ll have to talk to Tommy.” She rubbed at her nose, sharp eyes still assessing him. “Cassie Blackwell saved your hide, son. We’d never have found you down in that hole if she hadn’t seen you go off the road.”

Cassie Blackwell. That was the name he’d been trying to remember all morning. “I owe her.”

“Sure do. She’s a good girl, our Cassie. You’ll be seeing her around.”

He hoped so. Even with a crack on the skull, he remembered Cassie. Silky voice, dark wet hair and huge eyes. Pretty. Really pretty. He wouldn’t mind seeing Cassie Blackwell again. “She offered me a pedicure.”

“What?” Chief looked at him as if he was still addled.

He shook his head, thinking he was still too fuzzy to make sense. “Nothing. Something funny she said to me last night. I think she was trying to keep me awake.”

“That’s Cassie. She can talk a blue streak.”

He remembered that much. She’d talked on and on when all he’d wanted to do was sleep. He thought she may have told him her life story and that of every person in Whisper Falls—which could come in handy in his job, if he could remember.

“Where’s that nurse?” The chief glared at the door, willing it to open. “We got to get moving.”

Heath’s head was pounding again. He really wished the chief wouldn’t talk so loud.

She pointed at him. “Sit tight, Monroe. I’ll go see if I can bail you out. The blasted rain finally let up, but we got us a mess in Whisper Falls, and the sooner we get back, the better.”