LITMIR.BIZ

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beautiful,” Erin said. “Do you ride?”

      “I used to be in 4-H and show in western pleasure and trail.” Stephanie sighed. “But I don’t anymore.”

      “How come?”

      A sound of disgust emanated from the back seat. “As if you haven’t noticed, my legs aren’t exactly strong enough to stay in the stirrups.”

      Turning in her seat, Erin smiled at her. “Have you ever heard of therapeutic horseback riding?”

      The little girl studied her with soft, intelligent eyes that held a lot more interest than she was letting on with her responses. “No.”

      “That’s where kids with disabilities ride horses, work out their muscles and, basically, have a lot of fun.”

      “My dad says we’re going to retire Bandito.”

      Erin risked a look at Nick. “Have you checked with her doc—”

      “Steph is concentrating most of her time on physical therapy,” Nick said firmly, then looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at her. “Aren’t you, honeybunch?”

      “Yeah, but I still miss Bandito,” she said.

      Deciding it might be a good idea to steer the conversation away from the riding aspect of horse ownership, Erin tried another approach. “Well, since you don’t ride anymore, Steph, maybe you could just show him to me one of these days.”

      “Bandito doesn’t like strangers,” the little girl said.

      Nick shot his daughter another look in the rearview mirror as he parked the truck. “That’s enough, Steph. Deputy McNeal is trying to be friendly.”

      “Well, she keeps asking dumb questions.”

      He shut down the engine and opened his door, terminating a conversation Erin wished she’d never started. She got out of the truck, and watched as Nick unloaded the wheelchair. He opened the rear passenger door, scooped the little girl into his arms and set her in the chair.

      “I don’t mind waiting out here,” Erin said quickly, when he started for the house.

      Nick paused and frowned at her. “You may as well come in. Mrs. Thornsberry will want to meet you.”

      “Mrs. Thornsberry?”

      “Stephanie’s nanny.”

      “Oh.” Feeling awkward, Erin fell into step beside him as he wheeled his daughter toward the front door. Being a cop in Logan Falls was definitely going to be different than being a cop in Chicago.

      The farmhouse was set on several acres. A big maple tree shaded the side yard. Beyond, a small barn with Dutch doors and an adjacent circular pen stood as if in testimony that Bandito had once led a very busy life. The fact that Stephanie no longer rode her horse bothered Erin. Childhood was precious and she didn’t want to see this little girl miss out on any of it.

      The front door swung open. “Nick? Stephanie? For goodness sakes, what are you doing home this time of day?” A short, round woman with graying hair and bifocals greeted them with a maternal smile. “Do we have a guest?”

      “This is Deputy McNeal.” Nick looked at Erin. “This is Mrs. Thornsberry.”

      Relief trembled through Erin that Stephanie and Nick had a strong woman in their lives. Mrs. Thornsberry wasn’t a day under seventy, but Erin could tell the instant they made eye contact that the woman was anything but frail. Mrs. Thornsberry might be only five feet tall, but behind that gentle facade and favorite-aunt voice lay the compassion and wisdom of a grandmother, and the iron will of a five-star general.

      “I’m pleased to meet you,” Erin said sincerely.

      Mrs. Thornsberry’s gaze was unwavering. “Welcome to Logan Falls.” Her eyes settled on Stephanie, and she frowned. “Why aren’t you in school, young lady?”

      The little girl concentrated on her sneakers.

      Nick squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “She showed up at the station. Said she wanted to ride with me today.”

      “Cutting class again, more like it.” Though the nanny’s voice was firm, Erin didn’t miss the thinly concealed sympathy in it. Mrs. Thornsberry swung the door wide and walked back into the house. “Grab Steph’s book bag, will you?” she said over her shoulder to Erin.

      Erin lifted the book bag from Stephanie’s lap.

      Nick shot her a small, covert smile. “I think you passed inspection.”

      “I take it that’s good?” Erin said.

      “Took Hector a few tries.”

      Without waiting for a response, he pushed the wheelchair over the custom-made threshold. Erin followed with the book bag.

      The first thing she noticed was the aroma of home-cooked food. Frank Sinatra’s silky voice filled the air. The furniture was older, but of fine quality. A comfortable-looking sofa and matching easy chair sat in a grouping across from a console TV. In the dining room beyond, a sewing machine and bundles of fabric covered the length of the dinner table.

      “You caught me mending,” Mrs. Thornsberry said. “Stephanie, I expect you have homework.” Without missing a beat she turned to Nick and looked at him over her bifocals. “Shall I call the principal this time, or do you want to?”

      He grimaced. “I took care of it.”

      “Are you going to take her back to school?” the nanny asked.

      “She wants to stay home today,” he said.

      “She’s missed an awful lot this year.”

      “I’ll see about getting her assignments, Em.”

      Nodding, Mrs. Thornsberry turned to Erin. “Would you like coffee?”

      “We can’t stay,” Nick interjected.

      “Oh, come now, Chief. Don’t put me off. I just made a fresh pot of that hazelnut stuff.”

      “I don’t have any homework,” Stephanie complained.

      Mrs. Thornsberry clucked her tongue. “Then why don’t you go into your room and write me a nice letter explaining why you left school without permission again, honey?”

      Stephanie rolled her eyes.

      “I’ll bring you some milk and cookies in a bit,” the nanny finished. “Do you take cream, Deputy McNeal?”

      The woman switched topics so effortlessly, it took Erin a moment to realize she was speaking to her. “Call me Erin,” she said. “Cream would be fine. Thank you.”

      Stephanie turned her wheelchair and started down the hall. Something warm jumped in Erin’s chest when Nick followed, stooping to kiss his daughter’s cheek. “Do as Mrs. T. asks, Steph,” he said softly. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

      The little girl looked at him from beneath long lashes. “Will you teach me how to play chess tonight?”

      “You already know how to play chess.” He touched her cheek with his knuckles. “You beat the pants off me last time.”

      She grinned. “I’ll let you win.”

      “Deal.” Nick held out his hand, and she gave him a high five.

      “’Kay.” The little girl wheeled toward her room.

      Erin couldn’t help but feel she’d intruded on a private moment, but she hadn’t been able to look away. The grimfaced police chief who’d berated her just half an hour earlier seemed incongruous with the father who dealt so gently with this child.

      She was still staring when he turned toward her. The warmth in her chest spread when his gaze met hers. For an instant, she thought she’d never

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