3
They exchanged awkward greetings, then stood in the silence of time and everything unsaid. All Olivia could think was,Eight, nine years gone, and he’s as handsome as ever.
Then a woman called from the station’s front office. Dillon excused himself and started down the central corridor, saying, “The supplies we’ve been waiting for have finally arrived.”
Olivia was beyond tired. She wanted a bath and a bed with the shades drawn against the world. Instead, she followed Dillon into the front room. He took an armload of towels and sheets and started back, avoiding her eye as he passed. The gray-haired woman seated behind the main reception desk said, “You’re Olivia Greer.”
She was tempted to say,That was long ago. “Yes.”
“Maud Klein. I thought the world of your mother.” She possessed the matter-of-fact strength of an experienced officer. “There’s a shower room over to your left.”
Olivia heard herself say, “I want to help.”
“We could sure use it.” Maud pointed to a basket resting atop an empty desk. “Carry those donated toys back and instruct the kids to take just one.”
She did as Maud instructed, while most of her attention remained on Dillon. He moved with deceptive ease and swiftness, setting out fresh linens in each cell, then returning to strip the mattresses and make a professional job of fitting on new sheets. All the while, he talked softly, flirting with the children. Offering a semblance of hope in a dark time. Drawing smiles from one family after another. Olivia had never met a man who loved work more.
Olivia had spent years surrounded by some of the best-looking people on the planet. Dillon met their measure, and more. His bloodline was California mongrel, a heritage rich in strength and solidity and good nature. She wondered if any of the mothers returning his smile were tempted to neaten his unkempt dark locks. If so, Dillon gave no sign he noticed. His smile, she saw, still held that magnetic glint.
Old memories flooded back. So many good times. Happy, glorious moments.
Discovering what real love tasted like.
Bitter regret. Tear-streaked nights.
Then she stepped into the next cell, and froze.
The cage’s occupants were a family of five. The metal bunks were fastened to the side walls, making room for the two mattresses laid out together on the floor. The husband lay on top of an Indian blanket, face tight with pain. His wife saw Olivia’s concern and said softly, “Migraine. We’re waiting for the medicine to kick in.”
“Any minute now,” the man murmured.
Her husband was a handsome thirty-something with work-stained hands. His wife was beautiful despite everything. Her features held a balancing act of fatigue and love. She sat with one thigh touching the top of her husband’s head, her back propped against the concrete wall. A boy of ten or eleven leaned on her right side, reading from a book they both held.
“Call of the Wild,” the woman said. “Jack claims it relaxes him. Don’t ask me how.”
“Read now, talk later,” Jack muttered.
Two dark-haired girls aged four or five, obviously twins, nestled like kittens between their father and the wall. One stroked his neck, the other held his hand. One solemnly explained, “We’re helping.”
“So much,” he said softly.
Olivia backed out of the cell and said, “I’ll be right back.”
She carried the crate back into the office and set it on the desk. Maud asked, “All done?”
“Not yet. Soon.” Olivia was filled with an electric fire so strong it defied her exhaustion. She pushed through the glass doors and rushed across the lot to her car.
She did not realize Dillon had followed her until she heard him say, “Can I have a moment?”
“No time!” She was too busy fumbling with her keys. If anything, the excitement was stronger now. She finally got the trunk open and started pulling at cases.
“Olivia?”
“You can help.” She flapped open two silver-coated reflectors. “Take these.” She went back to flipping open cases. Canon body. Standard fifty-mil lens. She didn’t want to use the flash, but it might be necessary. So that went into her pocket. Slam the trunk. “Hurry!”
She ran.
Across the lot. Through the doors and down the office aisle. Past the officers who gaped at her passage. The flash’s cord dangled from her pocket and rattled nervously on the floor. As she started down the jail’s corridor, she heard Maud ask, “Porter, what is she doing?”
