LITMIR.BIZ

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anything to tell me?”

      “Could you be more specific?”

      Not without putting him in danger. “I’m wondering if the FBI or maybe the federal marshals have any current operations in our area.”

      His expression turned serious. “If you have some kind of inside track on FBI activity, I want to hear about it.”

      “Nothing. I’ve got nothing.”

      “Why did you want me to come over?”

      Aware that she’d already said too much, Caitlyn changed directions. “Do you know a guy named Jack Dalton?”

      “As a matter of fact, I arrested that sorry son-of-a-gun last night at the Gopher Hole. Drunk and disorderly. He’s sleeping it off in jail.”

      That solved the mystery of her missing handyman—the real Jack Dalton. “I almost hired him to work for me.”

      “Aw, hell, Caitlyn. Don’t tell me this Dalton character is some kind of FBI agent.”

      “He’s just another troubled soul.” And not her responsibility. “When he wakes up, tell him he lost the job.”

      “You’re acting real weird. You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

      “I’m just nervous. Because of the horse.” She thought about mentioning the two armed thugs and decided against it. There wasn’t anything Danny could do about them. “Lately, I’ve been jumpy.”

      As he studied her, his expression changed from irritation to something resembling compassion. He reached over and gently patted her arm. “Heather told me that you’d been through a lot, reporting on the war. She’s kind of worried about you.”

      The last thing she wanted was pity. “I’m fine.”

      “It’s okay to be nervous.”

      “I told you. I’m doing just fine.”

      “Whatever you say.” He drained his glass of lemonade, stood and picked up his hat. “I want you to know, it’s all right for you to call me any time.”

      “If I run into any Red Fire situations, I’ll let you know.”

      He stepped outside onto the porch and waited for her to join him. “The sheriff just hired a new guy who was in Iraq. He happens to be single. If you want to talk, he’d—”

      “Whoa.” She held up her hand. “I never thought I’d see the day when Danny Laurence started playing matchmaker.”

      “That’s what happens when you get settled down. You want everybody else to pair up.”

      “When I’m ready to jump into the singles pool, I’ll let you know.”

      “Fair enough.”

      “Thanks for coming over.” She gave him a warm smile. “Be careful, Danny.”

      “You, too.”

      She watched as he drove away in his police vehicle with the Douglas County logo on the side. Asking him to come here hadn’t given her any new information, except to confirm the identity of Jack Dalton. The real Jack Dalton was not the man who had showed up on her doorstep. Her Jack Dalton was actually Tony Perez. But he didn’t want to use that name. Because he’d changed? She wanted to believe that when Tony Perez agreed to testify, he abandoned his old life.

      Her gaze wandered to the hillside where she’d last seen him. By now he’d be miles away from here.

      She missed him.

      For that matter, she also missed the real Jack Dalton. Without a handyman, patching the barn roof was going to be nearly impossible. Who cares? Did it really matter if her barn leaked? Earlier today, she’d thought so.

      For the past weeks, she’d filled her waking hours with projects—cleaning, painting, doing chores and making repairs. Those jobs now seemed like wasted energy. Not like when she’d been talking to Jack, figuring out his identity. Tracking down a story made her feel vital and alive. At heart, she was a journalist. That was what she needed to be doing with the rest of her life.

      Her decision was made. The time had come for her self-imposed seclusion to end. Looking across the road, she scanned the wide expanse of sagebrush and prairie grass that led to the rugged sweep of forested hillsides. A rich, beautiful landscape, but she didn’t belong here.

      Her job was to follow the story. Packing a suitcase would take only a couple of minutes; she was accustomed to traveling light. She could be on her way in minutes, driving toward Denver International Airport, where she could catch the next flight to Chicago.

      But what if Jack ran into trouble and came back to the cabin? She needed to stay, if only for twenty-four hours. As long as she was here, she might as well patch the barn roof.

      She went back into the cabin and picked up her tool belt. Though she never locked her house when she was home, the recent threats emphasized the need for security. After she’d locked the front and back doors, she headed toward the barn.

      The midday sun warmed her shoulders. Her life here was idyllic, but it wasn’t where she needed to be. Why had she doubted herself? It was so obvious that she was a reporter. What was she afraid of? Oh, let’s see. A million different things. Not that she was Baby Blue—a sissy. She’d always been brave, and living in a war zone had hardened her to the sight of blood and gore. She had faced unimaginable horror, and she’d learned to stifle her terror. But those fears never truly went away.

      Though she’d never told anyone, she had experienced fits of uncontrolled sobbing, nightmares, even delusions. Once, she’d heard a helicopter passing overhead and panic overwhelmed her. She’d dropped to her knees and curled into a ball. Her mind wasn’t right; she wasn’t fit to be on the front line.

      But she could still be a reporter; not every assignment required her to rush headlong into danger.

      Inside the barn, she fastened the tool belt around her hips and looked up at the roof. One of the holes was so big that she could see daylight pouring through.

      From the stall nearest the door, the bay mare snorted and pawed at the earthen floor.

      “Oh, Lacy.” Caitlyn went toward the horse. “I’m sorry. We missed our morning ride. Maybe later, okay?”

      Lacy tossed her head as though angry. When she looked sadly at the empty stall beside her, Caitlyn felt guilty. Poor Lacy had been left behind, locked in her stall and deprived of her morning exercise.

      “All right,” Caitlyn said, “a short ride.”

      She had just gotten the horse saddled when she looked out the front door of the barn and saw the black SUV approaching her driveway. Rojas was back.

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