Kitabı oku: «Cops And...Lovers?», sayfa 2

For the first time he looked chagrined. “Don’t make this personal—”

“Don’t sweat it, Chief. I’m used to being underestimated. Besides, my skin’s a lot thicker than it looks.” She offered a crisp smile, hating that she had to bite her lower lip to keep it from quivering. “I’ve got some other prospects lined up, anyway.”

“Do you?”

“Corporate security. That sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I prefer working in a larger town, anyway.”

“Sure you do.”

She was going to have to figure something out, considering she hadn’t made her car payment last month. Maybe security work wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

“Thanks again for your time.” Without looking at him, Erin started for the door. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like such a failure. Maybe the last interview she’d screwed up. Or the day she’d walked out of the precinct for the last time. Or maybe the day she’d frozen at a crucial moment and realized she wasn’t as strong as she’d once believed.

“McNeal.”

She didn’t stop until she reached the door of his office. Even then she didn’t turn around. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did. She wasn’t a crier or overly emotional, but for the first time in a long time, she felt on the verge of a crying jag the likes of which the world had never seen.

“Frank Rossi doesn’t recommend just anyone,” Nick said.

Erin’s hand froze on the knob. Furiously, she blinked back tears.

“I trust his judgment,” he said. “You worked for him for nine years. Maybe you should trust him, too.”

The meaning behind his words registered slowly, like an easy rain falling over a drought-stricken land. Hope jumped through her with such force that her knees went weak. One breath. Two. She turned and looked at him, trembling no matter how hard she tried not to. “Frank is my uncle. He’s probably not objective when it comes to me.”

“Taking that into consideration, is there any reason I should doubt your ability to perform police work?”

“I was a good cop,” she said a little breathlessly. “I’m still a good cop.”

“I need a deputy. You came with a recommendation. You’ve got the credentials. Are you interested?”

Erin stared at him, wondering if he would be offering her the job if he knew about the nightmares. Or the flashbacks that swooped down on her like a giant bird of prey when a car backfired and her memory transported her back to that warehouse.

“You mean you want to hire me?” she blurted.

He hit her with a piercing stare. “Logan Falls is a small town. It might be a good place for you to get back on your feet and decide if you want to stay in law enforcement, or move on to something else.”

Her heart thrummed against her breastbone as if she’d just run a mile. Hope and fear roiled in her chest as his gaze burned into hers. “I want the job.”

“Maybe you should sit back down so we can finish our interview.”

Six months ago, her pride would have dictated she tell him to take a flying leap into whatever body of water Logan Falls had been named after. Today, she figured they were both too hard up to look a gift horse in the mouth. Either Frank had done a number on him, or Chief Nick Ryan was desperate to get a deputy hired. She wasn’t sure which scenario bothered her most.

“All right.” On numb legs, she walked back to the chair and sank into it.

She watched him take the chair behind his desk. Judging from the crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes, she guessed he was probably in his late thirties. His brown hair was cropped short and so dark it was almost black. Even though it was barely past noon, a five o’clock shadow darkened a jaw that was lean and strong. He wasn’t handsome—well, not exactly—but then pretty boys had never appealed to Erin. She preferred rugged over perfect. Character over charm. This man possessed generous amounts of both in the hardened planes of his face.

From the scar on his right eyebrow to his hard eyes and uncompromising mouth, Nick Ryan was as rugged as a man could get and still look civilized. He stood well over six feet, so that even with her lofty height of five-nine, she had to crane her neck to look up at him. He possessed the lean build of a distance runner tempered with the brawn of a boxer. But despite his physique, it was his eyes that emanated power. They were the color of strong coffee and as coldly sharp as the wind off Lake Michigan in January. His mouth was a straight slash she instinctively knew didn’t smile much.

“How soon can you start?” he asked.

She blinked, realizing with some embarrassment she’d been staring. “Monday.” How she would move from Chicago to Logan Falls in two days when she didn’t even have an apartment yet was a mystery to her, but somehow she’d pull it off.

“You’ll need to fill out these forms.” He passed several sheets of paper to her. “The pay isn’t as good as it is in Chicago, but the cost of living is a lot less.”

Numbly, she took the papers, starkly aware that her hands were shaking. “I don’t have an apartment yet.” She’d made the one-hundred-mile trip from Chicago in less than two hours just that morning. Once in town, she hadn’t taken the time to sightsee, but headed directly to the police station.

“There’s a two-bedroom apartment for rent above the florist shop on Commerce Street.” Nick opened his pencil drawer, pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “Mike Barton is my neighbor. He’s been trying to rent it for two months. You might want to give him a call.”

She was still trying to absorb that he’d hired her when he hit her with the bit about the apartment. “I’ll do that.”

“Are you staying in town tonight or heading back to Chicago?”

“I’ll find an apartment today, then drive back tonight for my things. If all goes well, I’ll move in the day after tomorrow.” Erin rose, feeling as though she’d just stepped off a roller coaster.

“Good, then I’ll see you Monday morning.”

She started toward the door, but paused halfway there. Taking a deep breath, she stopped and turned to face him. “What made you change you mind?” she asked.

Rising, he approached her, his expression inscrutable. “You wanted to tell me to go to hell. You almost did, but your pride wouldn’t let you because you didn’t want me to know I’d rattled you. I thought that ought to count for something.”

“I wasn’t rattled.”

He had the gall to look amused. “Really?”

Her cheeks heated. She didn’t like having her dignity toyed with. She didn’t have that much to spare. “I was ticked off that you felt the need to grill me when I clearly have the credentials to handle the job.”

“That remains to be seen.” Surprising her, he extended his hand. “Just don’t make me regret hiring you.”

“I won’t.” She raised her hand to his.

The contact jolted her like a mild electrical shock that jumped from him to her and wreaked havoc on every nerve ending in her body. She felt herself give a little jerk, praying he didn’t notice. Vaguely, she was aware of his grip—firm, but not painful. All the while his gaze bored into hers, sending pinpricks of awareness rippling through her like a flash flood.

The knot in her chest unraveled only to be replaced with another kind of tension. Erin wanted to think it was because she’d waited a long time for this moment, but in the backwaters of her mind she knew the weightless feeling had more to do with the fact that he was standing so close she could smell the clean tang of his aftershave. She told herself she was crazy for noticing something so irrelevant. She’d learned a long time ago that police work and relationships were about as compatible as gasoline and fire—and just as combustible.

Shaken by her reaction, she broke the connection and stepped back. Nick gazed steadily at her, but he wasn’t smiling. He looked taken aback and as annoyed as she felt. If his jaws clenched any tighter, he was going to need dental work.

Clearing his throat, he opened his office door for her and stepped back. Erin used that moment to escape. She barely looked at Deputy Price as she headed toward the safety of the front entrance. She wasn’t sure what had just happened between her and Nick Ryan, but knew it wasn’t good. It sure as hell couldn’t happen again. This job was her last chance.

Her hand was closing around the knob when Nick’s baritone voice cut through the air. “McNeal.”

She froze, a dozen scenarios tumbling through her brain. He’d changed his mind. He wanted to talk to Frank again. He wanted to hear the details about what had happened to Danny. He wanted to know why her hands were shaking, why he could hear her heart hammering against her ribs. Taking a deep breath, she turned and forced her gaze to his.

Nick stood just outside his office door, his face as expressionless as a stone. “Tell Frank I owe him one.”

Chapter 2

Nick stared into his coffee cup and called himself a fool a dozen ways. He wanted to think he’d caved in and hired Erin McNeal because he owed Frank a favor. Because of her impressive credentials, or maybe because he felt the need to lend a helping hand to a fellow cop. But Nick knew his decision to hire her probably had more to do with the desperation he’d seen in the depths of her gaze—and the fact that she would have walked out of his office and not looked back in spite of it.

He glanced at the wall clock, annoyed that it was the fourth time he’d done so in less than twenty minutes. He told himself he wasn’t thinking about her, that he wasn’t anxious because this was her first day of work and she was going to be riding with him. But he was honest enough with himself to know that wasn’t quite true. In the three days since he’d hired Logan Falls’s first female police officer, he’d found himself thinking about her more often than he wanted to admit. He assured himself it was because she’d been involved in a shooting, and it was his responsibility, as her direct supervisor, to know her mindset. Only Nick knew his interest in her wasn’t as impersonal as he wanted to believe.

What bothered him most was that he’d reacted to her on a personal level. Not as a superior or fellow cop, but a man who saw a deep well of vulnerability beneath that veneer of toughness. A man who’d been willing to go against his better judgment the moment he laid eyes on her and saw the damaged pride and go-to-hell attitude—and the kind of curves that made his pulse pound.

He wondered how Frank would feel if he knew his good friend was ogling his niece, who was nearly ten years his junior.

Grimacing, Nick took a drink of coffee. He’d often wondered how long it would take for the celibacy to get to him. After Rita, he’d believed he was as immune as a man could get when it came to women. That was fine with him; the lack of distraction left him able to focus all of this attention on his daughter. Then Erin McNeal had walked in and proved him wrong. This was a hell of a time for his hormones to tell him he was still human.

So what if she was attractive? Nick had more self-discipline than he knew what to do with, and a whole lot more common sense. He certainly knew better than to court trouble. Erin McNeal had trouble written all over that shapely body of hers. Not that he’d been looking, of course. But there were times when a man couldn’t help but see the finer points of a woman, no matter how staunch his resistance.

Nick was truthful enough with himself to realize the woman intrigued him. But he assured himself he could handle it. Even after three years, he was in no frame of mind to take on a relationship. After losing Rita, he’d sworn he’d never put his heart on the line ever again. The consequences were too dire. Besides, he didn’t even like McNeal.

The bell on the front door jingled. Nick jumped, cursing when some of his coffee sloshed over the top of his cup. Even without looking, he knew it was Erin. Steeling himself against the anticipation winding through his chest, he glanced out his office door. His heart kicked against his ribs when he spotted her striding toward him through the outer office.

He watched her approach against his better judgment, knowing his slow perusal of her would probably cost him later. The navy jacket and skirt she was wearing should have been conservative, but the sway of her hips and the shape of her thighs beneath the material were anything but. She reminded him of a sleek panther. Graceful. Wary. A little dangerous. A hint of tightly wound energy lay behind that smooth gait. Her legs were long, her strides confident. She returned his gaze levelly.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.” She entered his office.

“You’re early. It’s barely eight.”

“I like to get an early start.”

Even as an inner voice warned him against it, Nick found his eyes seeking out the silk blouse beneath her jacket. Before he could look away, the outline of lace and curves he had absolutely no business noticing scattered his concentration.

Silently cursing himself, he motioned to the chair opposite his desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

Her eyes seemed darker today. They were the color of a rain forest, filled with shadows and secrets as mysterious as the forest itself. Taking the chair he’d indicated, she crossed her legs.

When her jacket parted, he looked down at his paperwork. “Did you find an apartment?”

“Actually, I took the one you recommended.”

“Good. I think you’ll find Mr. Barton is a fair landlord.” Nick wasn’t sure why he felt so off-kilter. In the ten years he’d been chief of police, he’d never felt awkward with his deputies. What was it about Erin McNeal that had him acting like a tongue-tied juvenile?

Disgusted by his behavior, he rose and walked to the metal file cabinet behind his desk, where her uniforms, service revolver and badge lay in a neat pile. He scooped it up and set it on the desk between them.

“You and I are riding together today,” he said. “We’ll be together until your probationary period is up in thirty days. I’ll show you around town. Point out the trouble spots, the city limits, the landmarks. Clyde Blankenship’s horses got out this morning. We’ll drive by and make sure he fixed the fence. He’s over ninety years old and doesn’t always do a good job.”

“Horses?”

Nick frowned at her, wondering if the lady hotshot cop from Chicago considered herself above such menial law enforcement tasks. “School started last week. Hector drew crosswalk duty. We’ll drive by and see how he’s doing.”

Erin nodded.

“There’s a locker room next to the water cooler,” he said. “You can change there. Locker number five.”

“It’ll just take me a minute to change clothes.”

The image of her slipping out of that skirt came to mind unbidden, but he ruthlessly shoved it away. “Assignments and shifts are posted weekly on the board above the time clock.”

Rising, she gathered her uniforms, revolver and badge from his desk. “How many other deputies work for you?” she asked.

“Hector and two part-timers.” Nick caught a whiff of her sweet, exotic scent—and nearly lost his train of thought. This was becoming downright annoying.

He studied her, trying not to notice the softness of her mouth or the delicate slant of her jaw. “Any questions?” he asked, rising.

“I’ll just get dressed.”

Rounding his desk, he started toward the main office, starkly aware that she was behind him. “Locker room’s there.” He motioned toward the hall leading to the rear of the building.

“I’ll be five minutes.”

“Take your time.”

Erin’s hands shook as she stepped into her uniform slacks and tucked in her shirt. Her service revolver lay on the bench beside her, reminding her that after six months and four interviews she was once again a police officer. She should have been ecstatic now that she was finally getting her life back on track. But the reality of what she faced was as disconcerting as it was thrilling. The responsibility of it pressed down on her like a lead weight. As she slipped the revolver into her holster, she tried not to think about whether she’d have the guts to use it.

Erin refused to second-guess herself. Not when she’d already passed the point of no return.

Smoothing her shirt, she picked up her extra uniform and started for the door, all too aware that her heart was pounding. “You can do this,” she murmured, determined not to let the uncertainty rattle her.

The sound of a child’s voice coming from the outer office broke into her thoughts. Curious, she continued down the hall and stopped on entering the main office. A little girl with hair the color of a wheat field sat at Hector’s desk, tugging a coloring book from her backpack. She looked to be only eight or nine years old, but possessed the most adult eyes Erin had ever seen on a child.

Nick had come out of his office and was walking toward the girl. “Why aren’t you in school, honeybunch?” he asked.

The child shrugged. “I wanted to ride with you today.”

“It’s a schoolday.”

“I don’t want to go to school today.”

Stooping, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then stood back and regarded her with an expression of stern amusement. “I thought you liked school this year. Isn’t today library day?”

“Mrs. McClellan doesn’t like me.”

“Doesn’t like you? What’s not to like?” He tousled her hair, his hand lingering. “Just between you and me, Mrs. McClellan told me you’re her favorite librarian.”

The little girl looked at the coloring book spread out on the desk. “Can’t I just stay here awhile? I brought my coloring book, see? I’ll be quiet.”

“Honey, I’d love to spend the day with you, but you can’t miss any more school and I’ve got work to do.” Digging in her backpack, he pulled out a box of colorful markers. “Who brought you here to the station?”

The little girl leaned over and shot Erin a less-than-friendly look over Nick’s shoulder. “Who’s that lady?”

Nick glanced at Erin, then turned back to the girl. “Her name’s Erin. She’s my new deputy—”

“That’s a boy’s name.”

“Steph, I want you to tell me who brought you here.”

“No one.” She selected a marker and began to color. “I just left. Mr. Finn sent me to the office for talking to Kimmy Bunger during attendance. The hall monitor was in the bathroom, and nobody was paying any attention, so I just left.”

Erin saw Nick’s shoulders go rigid. “Wait a minute,” he said firmly. “You just left? An adult didn’t drive you here?”

“It’s not that big a deal, Daddy. The school’s only two blocks away.”

“I’m afraid leaving school without permission is a big deal, Steph. You know I’m going to have to call the school and talk to the principal again, don’t you?” Gently easing the marker from her fingers, he rounded her chair and pulled it back from the desk.

That was when Erin noticed the wheelchair. She stared, trying valiantly to curb the resulting shock.

“You know you’re not allowed to leave school without permission,” Nick said, picking up the phone and punching in numbers. “Why didn’t you tell your teacher you wanted to go home? Why didn’t you call me?”

In some small corner of her mind, Erin heard him ask for the principal. She stood frozen in place, telling herself the sight of the wheelchair hadn’t upset her, hadn’t made her remember.

Images from the night of the shooting burst forth in her mind’s eye. She fought the flashback, but it pressed down on her, a solid weight of fear that stole her concentration and threatened her control. Danny lying on the floor in a pool of blood. The churning in her gut. The smell of gunpowder.

The folded uniform she’d been clutching slipped from her hands and fell to the floor in a heap. Nick looked up, his eyes narrowing. Terrified he would misinterpret her reaction, Erin quickly scooped up the fallen uniform, then backed into the relative safety of the hall. Her chest felt as if it was being squeezed by a giant vise, but she forced air into her lungs. She was going to be okay, she assured herself. It had been a while since she’d had a flashback, but they still came on occasion. Whenever a sound or smell or sight reminded her of the night she’d been shot, it all came rushing back….

Ordering herself to calm down, she smoothed the front of her uniform and watched Nick kneel to tie his daughter’s shoe. The little girl wore a pink sweatshirt and matching pants, with polka-dot sneakers. It was a happy outfit, made for climbing trees and playing hopscotch. But Erin could plainly see by the look in this child’s eyes that she wasn’t happy. She certainly wasn’t going to get up out of that wheelchair and play hopscotch anytime soon.

“Get your books and markers together, kiddo,” he said. “I’m taking you home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“It’s either school or home,” he said firmly. “I’ll let you choose.”

“Please, Daddy, I want to go with you.”

Erin didn’t miss the pain that knifed across Nick’s features. Jaw clenched, he looked down at the floor, then slowly straightened, as if the effort cost him more energy than he had to spare. “Put your books and markers in your book bag, honeybunch. I’ll take you home.”

Huffing in displeasure, the little girl wheeled closer to the desk and started throwing markers one by one into her book bag.

Erin hadn’t even known Nick Ryan had a family. He didn’t wear a ring; she’d assumed he was unmarried. That his child was handicapped struck a chord within her. Pain broke open in her chest—a slow ache that burgeoned until it enveloped her entire body. And her heart silently wept when she remembered another wheelchair, and a man she’d sentenced to the kind of hell she could only imagine in her worst nightmares.

“McNeal.”

She started at the sound of Nick’s voice, and forced her gaze to his.

Standing at the end of the hall, he shot her a look cold enough to freeze acid. “In my office.”

Pressing her hand against her stomach, she walked past him and into his office. Oh, Lord, she hadn’t intended to react to the wheelchair. She couldn’t imagine what he must think of her.

Nick entered behind her and closed the door. When he turned to her, his eyes were the color of a force five tornado that was headed straight in her direction.

“If the wheelchair bothers you I suggest you go back to Chicago and forget you ever set foot in Logan Falls,” he snapped.

“It doesn’t—”

“You look like you just saw a ghost. I can’t have you falling apart every time you see my daughter, for crying out loud.”

Erin stared at him, heart pounding wildly, while the words built in her chest like a sickness. “I’m sorry. I was…distracted—”

“You were about to come apart at the seams,” he interrupted.

“I was…thinking—”

“Thinking?”

“I was thinking about…Danny,” she said, knowing it would be professional suicide to tell him about the flashbacks or the nightmares.

“What does he have to do with this?”

When she trusted her voice not to betray her, she raised her chin and met Nick’s gaze. “He’s in a wheelchair. I’m the one who put him there.”

Because he had an eight-year-old daughter, Nick didn’t usually curse, but today he made an exception. Of all the explanations Erin could have offered, the bit about her ex-partner knocked him speechless as effectively as a set of brass knuckles.

He was accustomed to negative reactions to his daughter’s wheelchair. Some people stared. Others ignored her. Some people just smiled too much because they were uncomfortable with the prospect of a child who couldn’t walk. No matter how innocent, those reactions invariably upset Stephanie—and set his own temper ablaze. He would never forget the day she’d come home from school crying so hard she couldn’t speak. His heart had broken into a thousand pieces when she’d told him the kids had made fun of her. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d wished it was him in that wheelchair instead of her.

He wasn’t sure why, but he’d expected Erin to be different. She was a decorated cop. She’d seen a lot over the years. He’d hoped she’d be somehow above it. Then she’d hit him with that bit about her partner, and he’d realized her reaction didn’t have anything to do with a lack of character, but with her own private hell.

Damn, he didn’t want to have to deal with this.

“It was wrong of me not to tell you I’m still…dealing with what happened to Danny,” she said.

“Frank didn’t bother,” he said dryly. “Why should you?”

“Frank doesn’t hold me responsible. It’s not an issue for him.”

“He didn’t clean up your file, did he?”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Internal Affairs cleared you?”

She looked at him as if she were about to walk the plank—and he was the one holding the gun at her back. “Yes.”

Nick didn’t like the way this was playing out. It was clear this woman had been exonerated by the department. The problem was she hadn’t yet exonerated herself.

“The police department isn’t the place for personal baggage,” he said. “Even in Logan Falls.”

“I’m working through it.”

Even from three feet away he could see she was shaking. What in the world had happened to this woman? What had Frank gotten him into? Whatever the case, Nick wasn’t happy about the situation. He sure didn’t like the way he was reacting to her. At the moment, he wished he’d never heard of her. Wished he’d never hired her, for God’s sake.

But another part of him knew that wasn’t completely true. She might be an attractive woman who was affecting him in all the wrong ways. She might have let her partner down in a crisis. But she was still a cop. A cop who’d been cut down in the line of duty and needed a chance to get back on her feet.

Frowning, Nick crossed to his desk, but he didn’t sit. His temper was still lit, but he knew it would be wrong of him to take it out on Erin. He didn’t know all the details of what she’d gone through. Frank had told him the shooting wasn’t directly her fault—she’d followed procedure for the most part. But her momentary hesitation had cost her—and her partner—dearly. The ensuing Internal Affairs investigation irrevocably damaged her career. She’d lost her confidence. In the end, she’d resigned voluntarily, to keep herself from getting fired.

“I hope this doesn’t affect your decision about hiring me,” she said.

He turned and looked at her, taking in the rigid shoulders. The high chin. The gaze that was level and a little too intense. His chest tightened uncomfortably when he realized it was taking most of her nerve just to maintain eye contact. Whatever happened in that warehouse had taken a heavy toll on her. She blamed herself, he realized. Nick knew firsthand how easy it was to accept blame when the real culprit wasn’t able to.

“This isn’t going to work out if you can’t handle being around the wheelchair,” he said.

“I can handle it.”

“You sure about that?”

“It just…caught me off guard. I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“I don’t think she noticed. But she’s sensitive about her handicap. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“It won’t.” Guilt shimmered in the depths of Erin’s eyes. “I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

Once again, Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her. She gazed steadily at him, her green eyes dark against her pale complexion. Relief flashed through him when he realized she wasn’t a crier. Female tears were the one thing he’d never handled well. Thank God he didn’t have to deal with that heaped on top of those bottomless, troubled eyes and soft mouth.

“We don’t have time to discuss this right now,” he said. “But you owe me a more detailed explanation.”

A breath shuddered out of her. “I know.”

He glanced toward the door, beyond which Stephanie waited. He’d always been protective of his daughter. Especially since the car accident three years ago that had taken her mother from her and injured her spine. As of late, it seemed his protective instinct had grown into something even Nick couldn’t control.

“I need to take her home,” he said. “You can ride along. Then we’ll start our shift, and we can talk.”

“Look, Nick, I’m a good cop—”

“This has nothing to do with whether or not you’re a good cop. The question is whether or not you’re ready to return to the field.”

“I’m ready,” she snapped.

He contemplated her, trying not to notice the way the sunlight brought out the red in her hair and made it shine like Oriental silk. Damn her for complicating things by being a woman. Damn him for noticing.

“I hope you’re right,” he said, and headed toward the door.

Erin watched Nick scoop his daughter out of the wheelchair and settle her onto the back seat of the Suburban, where he strapped her in place. He didn’t speak, didn’t even look at Erin as he folded the wheelchair and stowed it in the rear. Crossing in front of the truck, he slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

Erin got in beside him, hating that she’d reacted to the wheelchair so intensely. She’d thought the flashbacks were over. But the moment she saw Stephanie’s wheelchair, the night of the shooting had rushed back like a deluge of rancid floodwater. The man on the catwalk. The blue steel of a gun. The split-second hesitation that would haunt her the rest of her life.

Shoving the memory aside, she leaned back in her seat and gazed out the window, determined not to let the incident shake her. So she’d overreacted. If Erin had learned anything in the last several months, it was that she couldn’t change what was already done. Another mistake heaped on top of a dozen others wasn’t going to make a difference now.

Two slow, deep breaths and her nerves began to calm. For the first time since she’d climbed into the truck, she noticed the scenery outside her window as they drove toward Nick’s house. She’d never lived in a small town before, but had fallen in love with Logan Falls the moment she’d arrived. Surrounded by endless fields of corn and wheat, neat white farmhouses and pastures dotted with cattle, Logan Falls was a typical Midwestern town. Cobblestone streets and brick storefronts distinguished the downtown area. A silver-roofed bell tower graced the top of the courthouse. Across the street, a fountain punctuated the center of the business traffic loop. Beyond, a redbrick school surrounded by maples and stately oak trees separated the downtown area from a well-kept residential neighborhood.