The Lawman's Honor

He waited until the blustering chief charged out of the room. Then he took out his cell phone and dialed 411. Heath Monroe was a man who paid his debts. And he owed Cassie Blackwell.

Chapter Three

The morning was clear and sunny, a perfect spring day when daffodils burst from the damp earth to nod their golden heads and the wind is so still a stranger wouldn’t believe how wild the sky had been last night. That is, until they arrived in downtown Whisper Falls and saw the mess.

Limbs and trash, asphalt shingles from someone’s roof, trash cans and lids, and a smattering of kids’ plastic toys were scattered down the streets and against business doors. The residential areas looked far worse. Cassie had even seen a doghouse hanging in a tree. She hoped the dog hadn’t been in it.

Along with every other businessperson in town, Cassie had hit the streets at daylight to assess the damage. From the looks of things, nothing was completely destroyed, but they’d have plenty of cleanup to keep them busy for days.

She wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, tired and oddly disheartened. She should be thankful, all things considered. Her shop was intact, her family and friends were safe, and even the stranger in the accident was reported to be in good condition.

She hadn’t slept much last night, given the late hour she’d gotten home and the whirl of excitement that had gone on before. Heath Monroe had played around the edges of her mind even while she’d slept. She’d awakened after a reenactment of that long period when she’d been alone with him inside the crashed vehicle. She’d been afraid for him.

All night, she’d fought the temptation to call Chief Farnsworth for an update but had waited until this morning. The chief had her hands full with the aftermath of an F1 tornado and if Cassie knew JoEtta Farnsworth, the chief had slept less than anyone.

“Thank God the tornado was a little one,” she muttered as she bagged trash and listened to the whine of chain saws. Her brother, Austin, Davis Turner and a group of other men manned the saws, clearing broken trees and limbs whereever needed.

“I’m thankful we didn’t take a direct hit.” This from Evelyn Parsons, the town’s matriarch. The older woman, whose salt-and-pepper hair was kinked tight as corkscrews in the damp morning air, had literally put Whisper Falls on the map. She wouldn’t take it lightly if the town was blown away after all her efforts to revive it. Miss Evelyn had turned a rumor into a tourist attraction. People came from all over to pray under the waterfall outside of town, hopeful that the rumor was true, that God really did answer prayers murmured there. In the opinion of Miss Evelyn and most of Whisper Falls, everyone benefited from the story and it never hurt to pray. The comment made Cassie feel a little better about her own pilgrimage, though she would be embarrassed if anyone knew. “Uncle Digger said the worst damage is east of town. There aren’t many houses or people out that way.”

“A few but they’re scattered all over the hills.”

Darrell’s cousin lived east of town, though he was far up in the hills and back in the woods. She should probably call the man but he hadn’t been too friendly after Darrell’s death, as if he blamed her somehow for the loss. Truthfully, he’d never seemed to like her and they hadn’t spoken since the funeral.

“Not likely any of them took a hit. The tornado dissipated not long after it moved over the town.”

“True. I’m sure they’re fine.” Cassie peeled a soggy magazine from the side of a building and tossed it into the bag. “I have appointments this morning. Should we open for business?”

“Absolutely!” Miss Evelyn said. “This cleanup will take days, and that’s why we pay city workers and have a strong corps of volunteers. The sooner we get back to normal, the better.”

At eight, Cassie headed to the salon for a quick shower and change before her first appointment at eight-thirty. By ten o’clock the small salon was packed with customers and gossipers. Everyone knew there were two places in Whisper Falls to get all the latest news: Cassie’s Tress and Tan Salon and the Iron Horse Snack Shop down at the train depot, run by none other than Miss Evelyn and Uncle Digger Parsons. Cassie figured both businesses were hopping today.

Midmorning, the newly engaged Lana Ross stopped by in her quest for newspaper stories. Wearing her usual cowboy boots and bling jeans, the former country singer looked petite and pretty, her dark brown hair curving softly against her shoulders.

“Mr. Kendle wants photos for tomorrow’s edition,” she said. “But I wanted to be sure everyone in here was all right before I start snapping.”

That was so like Lana. After a rough start to life and a failed singing career in Nashville, she’d come home to Whisper Falls and met and fallen in love with widower Davis Turner. Cassie was happy for them. After all they’d both been through, they deserved happiness. And so did their children, a trio of adorable matchmakers.

“We’re all okay,” Louise said. A gamine-faced woman with a shock of striped mahogany hair she wore in a short rock star emo cut, Louise was a master stylist and a creative manicurist. No one in town did nails like Louise. At the moment, she was painting filler into Ruby Faye Loggins’s acrylics. “What about you and Davis?”

“Nothing damaged except Paige’s trampoline. It’s hanging on the back fence with the net ripped off. But boy, was the weather scary for a while.”

“I heard there was some damage out by the airport. Has anyone talked to Creed or Haley?” This from Ruby Faye.

“I did,” Lana said. “Creed’s helicopter is all right. A couple of pieces of sheet metal blew off and broke out a window on one of the small planes parked outside though.”

“That’s too bad.”

“At least everyone seems to be safe so far,” Lana said. “But I heard Cassie had quite an adventure last night.”

Like satellite dishes seeking a signal, all heads rotated toward Cassie. As sweet as her customers were, they also liked the excitement generated by a tornado or a car accident or even a big storm. The buzz of fascinated energy was like electricity this morning. Frankly, it made her tired.

“Tell us, Cassie,” Ruby Faye insisted, her eyes wide and eager for more stories to share at the bait shop she and her husband owned.

Before Cassie could open her mouth, volunteer firefighter Evangeline Perryman beat her to it, giving a recap of the rescue.

“He’s good-looking, too, girls. My, my, my. He made my heart flutter.” She clapped a hand against her generous chest.

“That was your angina, Evangeline.” This wry statement came from Ruby Faye at the manicure station.

While the others chuckled, Evangeline insisted, “He was a hunk, wasn’t he, Cassie? Dark and mysterious and tight muscles. Tell them. He was a hunk.”

“Well, okay, he was pretty cute.” Understatement of the year. Heath was, as Evangeline insisted, a hunk.

“Did you get his name? JoEtta said he was coming to work for her.”

“Heath Monroe.”

“Is he single? I have a single daughter, you know, and boy, would I love to marry that girl off.”

Cassie wasn’t about to go there. Heath’s single status was his business. If the ladies of Whisper Falls wanted to stalk the poor man, she wasn’t getting involved. She was having enough problems not thinking about him as it was. Eventually she would see him again. Would he remember her? And why should she care one way or the other?

Her thoughts went back to that moment last night when the rescue team had carefully lifted Heath from the car. He’d tried to stand on his own, insisting he was all right. His eyes had found her and in that instance, they’d made some sort of sizzling connection—right before he passed out.

“Cassie? Cassie?”

Cassie came out of her reverie to see the whole shop staring at her once more. She looked down at the head she was shampooing. How long had she been standing here in a fog?

“Oh, sorry, I was just—thinking. Did you say something?”

Evangeline slapped a beefy hand on her thigh and chortled. “I think Cassie’s daydreaming about our new police officer.”

“Don’t be silly.” Even if it was true.

Cassie wrapped a towel around Fiona’s well-shampooed head and righted the style chair just as the shop door opened. She finished the towel dry and reached for her tools.

“Flowers?” Louise squeaked, a hopeful sound that lifted on the end. “For who?”

Louise was happily married with a toddler but her husband, sweet as he was, was not Mr. Romantic. Louise longed for him to send her flowers or whisk her away on a picnic. Even though she dropped hints on a regular basis, he never had.

Conversation in the beauty shop ceased as the satellite heads rotated toward the florist hidden behind the vase of colorful tulips and gerbera daisies. Lan Ying, the tiny Asian owner of Lan’s Flowers and Gifts, set the clear glass vase on Cassie’s workstation.

“For Cassie,” she announced with a sly grin, black eyes snapping with interest and humor.

“Me?” Cassie paused to stare in amazement, hairbrush in one hand and the silent blow dryer in the other. Fiona didn’t seem to mind that Cassie was no longer working on her new style. She, too, stared in bug-eyed interest at the bouquet.

“Why, Cassie dear,” Fiona said, “I think you must have an admirer.”

Cassie laughed. “No chance.”

She never received flowers. Well, unless you counted the ones her mom and dad sent for special occasions. Maybe that was it. She’d forgotten some important date. “Let me see the card.”

She put the brush and dryer down with a clatter that sounded outrageously loud in the too-quiet room, and reached inside the sunny mix of yellows, pinks and purples.

“These are beautiful, Lan. You’ve outdone yourself,” she said as she pulled the card from inside the tiny envelope. Her pulsed ricocheted. Oh. My. Goodness. He didn’t. Her face was hot as a flatiron.

“Who sent them, Cassie? Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“I can tell by her expression that it’s a man,” Evangeline smacked with no small satisfaction. “I told you so. Either Heath Monroe is a very grateful man, or Cassie has a beau.”

* * *

Heath was still half out of his head. That could be the only explanation for this uncharacteristic behavior. He worked alone. He didn’t get too involved or too close. His business—his former business—didn’t allow it.

He didn’t like crowds, either, and judging from the noise coming from inside, there was a big one.

Heath ran a hand over his brown button-down and hobbled toward the glass door. The salon was housed in an attractive old building with an upper-story balcony painted in a cheery red and trimmed in white. The glass front door proclaimed Tress and Tan Salon.

He had never been in a beauty shop in his life. But he was a man who paid his debts. Get in, get it done, get out. If he didn’t fall over first. The chief was already badgering him about R and R. Probably because of that little dizzy spell he’d experienced in her office.

His ankle felt the size of an elephant and shot pain up his leg with every step. After dumping his gear at the furnished garage apartment, he’d collapsed on the couch for a couple of hours but upon awakening the familiar drive to be up and moving had taken over.

All right, Monroe, admit it. He was curious about Cassie Blackwell, curious to know if she’d gotten the flowers, and since he was going to be living in this town, at least for a while, he wanted to make nice with the locals.

Might as well open the glass door and go inside. He’d entered worse, scarier and far more dangerous places. A chorus of female laughter rang out. With a wry shake of his head, Heath thought, Maybe.

He pulled open the door and stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the sudden reduction in conversation. The second thing was the smell. Really good shampoo. The kind that compelled a man to bury his nose in a woman’s hair.

His well-trained eyes scoped out the place in seconds. Three workstations but only two were manned. Or womaned, as it were. Zebra-striped chairs, a mish-mash of hair fixing doodads and a gaggle of gawking females. And that smell. That overriding, delicious scent of all things female.

He cleared his throat. “You got the flowers.”

Cassie Blackwell stood at one of the workstations. She’d turned toward the door when it had opened and now stood as if paralyzed, the mirror behind her reflecting the straight, choppy cut of her black, black hair.

Gorgeous. Last night, he’d thought she was pretty but his head had been too messed up to know anything for certain. Today, there was no doubt. His drippy-wet, shivering heroine from last night was a knockout.

“Why aren’t you in the hospital?” she asked and he took note of the biggest green eyes he’d ever seen. Green, like his. Cool.

“They don’t keep slackers.”

Every woman in the room clucked and then a cacophony started that made his head ache worse.

“You’re hurt.”

“Look at his eye. Quite a shiner.”

“Are you the new police officer?”

He replied to the last. “Yes, ma’am. Heath Monroe.”

For some reason, this brought another round of clucking accompanied by sly looks at Cassie.

He felt a little weird being the object of all this attention. Weird but amused. In his particular role as an agent, he’d been required to keep a low profile. He’d have to get used to being out in the open.

“Nice to meet you, ladies,” he said, forcing a smile that made his bruised eye hurt.

His comment was met with a round of introductions which he figured was a good thing. Getting to know the people in town would be as important to this job as it had been in covert operations.

But even as he carried on polite conversations with the women, cataloguing which one’s husband ran the bait shop and which was a retired schoolteacher, and who was at the scene last night, it was Cassie his gaze kept coming back to. Medium height, she looked taller in bright red high heels that matched her equally red lipstick. If he put his arms around her, she’d hit him about chin-high in sock feet. The wayward thought startled him. He didn’t know this woman, other than she’d been kind enough to help an injured stranger. Why was he stirred by the thought of Cassie, the hairdresser, in cozy little socks?

“Thank you for the flowers,” she said in that same silky voice that had invaded his concussed dreams. “They’re beautiful, but you really didn’t need to go to all that trouble.”

“If you hadn’t come along...” He let the thought ride. No use going there. They both knew. “Glad you like them.”

Before he could make the expected quick exit, the door behind him opened. He couldn’t help himself. Years of watching his back had him turning to the side as yet another female entered the building. This one was pretty in the way of women who spend a lot of time and money on their looks. Dressed to kill in a pencil-slim skirt and stiletto heels, she was a well-groomed blonde, blue-eyed and thinner than he liked his women. Not that he’d focused much on women in the past decade. He liked the female gender—a lot—but in his line of work, personal relationships had taken a backseat. About the time things started to progress, he’d be shipped off to some dark corner of the earth. Which was just as well. He had a job to do and a vow to keep.

Automatically, he touched his pocket and felt for the badge resting against his thigh, a reminder of his life’s mission and why he’d never settled down.

“Louise, I broke a nail,” the newcomer announced in a voice that said a broken fingernail was a state of emergency. She held up an index finger and pouted. “Can you fix it for me right quick? Pretty please?”

The wild-haired Louise nodded. The manicurist reminded him of those wide-eyed dolls whose heads were bigger than their bodies. “Sure thing, Michelle. Give me a couple of minutes to finish Ruby Fay.”

“I have an appointment at the bank in a few—” The woman’s voice trailed off when she spotted Heath. “Oh, my gracious, I am so sorry for interruptin’.” She stuck out the hand with the broken nail. “I’m Michelle Jessup. You must be our new police officer.”

Might as well get used to it. In a small town news carried far and fast.

“This is Heath Monroe, Michelle,” Cassie said, taking up the tools of her trade again. “And you guessed right. He’s our new assistant chief.”

“My goodness gracious, Heath, honey, you are all beat up. Oh, this is terrible. Not a good welcome to our little burg at all.” She pressed long-nailed fingers to her chest in an affected pose. Most of the people Heath had encountered so far in Whisper Falls spoke with a stronger-than-Texas accent but this woman’s suddenly thickened to Southern syrup. “I heard about that scary accident you had. What a blessing our little Cassie came along in the nick of time.”

Heath shot an amused look at “our little Cassie,” who lifted one eyebrow but didn’t speak. Heath didn’t like to judge a person on first impressions, but Michelle was making a strong one.

“Very lucky. I could have been stuck down there for days before anyone found me.”

“Well, isn’t she just heroic?” Michelle gushed, moving into Heath’s space with a flirty smile. “Your poor eye. It must hurt like crazy.” She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, an exotic blend of flowers and spice. “My daddy owns Jessup’s Pharmacy right down the street. If you need anything at all, you tell Daddy I sent you, and he’ll fix you right up.”

“I appreciate the offer. Thanks.” He eased a step back.

“You are so welcome,” Michelle said brightly, letting the last word trail off in a long, slow drawl. “Glad to help in any way I can. We take care of our people around here.”

“We sure do,” Louise muttered. “Especially our handsome new law-enforcement personnel.”

A snicker ran around the edges of the room, but if Michelle noticed, she didn’t let on. Heath practiced his poker face.

“I heard about your SUV being all smashed up. I am so sorry. If it can’t be fixed and you have to have a new one, you come right on over to the bank and see me. As the chief loan officer in Whisper Falls, I will take good care of you.”

A man would have to be blind, deaf and brain-dead not to get the message, though the woman couldn’t know Heath was immune. He’d been propositioned by some of the best, usually when he was about to haul them to jail.

“Good to know. Appreciate it. Everyone here has been very helpful.”

“Oh, Heath, you are so welcome.” She tilted her head and hunched one shoulder in a pretty pose, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Michelle, I’m ready for you.” Louise patted the tabletop and motioned toward the chair. “Come on over. You don’t want to be late for that appointment.”

The flirtatious woman turned her back and walked toward the manicurist, hips swaying. Heath purposely glanced away, catching Cassie’s eye. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d found the exchange as over-the-top as he had. Big green eyes dancing above some woman’s haircut, she fawned and mouthed, “Oh, Heath.”

Heath felt his nostrils flare as he fought back a laugh. Time to hit the road. He lifted a hand in farewell. “See you later.”

Cassie tilted her head and smiled. “Thanks again for the flowers.”

Their gazes held for several more seconds while he recalled the feel of her soft hands scanning his face and his hair. A zing of energy sizzled through him like last night’s lightning.

Puzzling over the unexpected reaction to his rescuer, Heath limped out into the sunlight, the noise of female conversation trailing him. Once the coast was clear, he paused. Hands on his hips, he looked up into the sunny blue sky and laughed.

He wasn’t sure what he’d signed up for, but Whisper Falls might turn out to be a lot more interesting than he’d ever expected.

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