“Why? This is my home.”
“Really?” She tilted her head and studied him. “It didn’t seem to stop you from leaving it the first chance you got.”
Ouch. There it was. The elephant in the room.
He recognized the challenge behind her words. She had a chip on her shoulder and she was daring him to address the issue or try to knock it off. He knew anything he said right now would open old wounds and change nothing, so he remained silent.
“I’m sorry,” Liz said. “That was mean.” She chewed on her bottom lip, something he remembered her doing when she was nervous or upset.
“Forget it.” He smiled at her and hurried to change the subject. “Right now, I’m filling a temporary consultant position in Poplar Bluff. It’s not that long a drive from here. They had a real need and I owed a friend a favor. But as soon as they hire a replacement, all my attention will be here. I have big plans for Country Corners.”
Liz grinned. “Really? You sound pretty excited. What kind of plans?”
For an instant, it felt like old times again.
When they were in high school, Liz had always been willing to listen and often offered sage advice beyond her years when he needed it. He thought he’d burst with his need to tell her about his plans for the community. His plans included her. He’d done his research before returning. He knew she was still single and not seeing anyone special. He was here to make amends, to right wrongs, to win her back.
One look into her steely, challenging gaze told him it was going to be more like Mission: Impossible than the uphill battle he had expected. But he was going to try.
“I’d like to tell you all about it. Maybe over coffee?” He hoped she’d still be able to read him, to sense his sincerity, at least.
Indecision and wariness flashed across her face. She opened her mouth to respond but he spoke first.
“But this isn’t a good time. Give me a rain check?”
She closed her mouth and just stared at him.
He nodded at the tiny body lying on the bed. “Right now, I’m only interested in what you can tell me about this boy.”
When she looked across the bed at him, there was a telltale glistening in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was his words or the child’s situation that caused her such pain. His gut twisted when he realized it was probably both.
“This little boy has lost everything and everyone,” Liz said. “He’s so young and vulnerable and…”
“Autistic?”
“Yes, autistic. Kate told me that he was making great progress with his verbal skills. And even though he still wasn’t a fan of eye contact or light touch, he would crawl into her lap and allow her to hug him or sit quietly while she rocked him.”
She blinked several times and her eyes hardened. “I need to get the guy who did this. I’m going to get this guy no matter what.”
Adam nodded his understanding and empathized with her. A person capable of destroying a family as though they were without value or worth did not belong on the streets.
“Was the boy a witness?” Adam asked.
“I don’t know. I think so, but I’m not sure. We found him hiding in the back of his mother’s closet beneath some folded blankets and clutching his teddy bear. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat and his clothes…” She took a deep breath. “His pajamas were splattered with…” She tried to shake the image out of her head and sighed heavily. “After we found him, we took a second hard look at the crime scene. Some of the smears could have been his footprints near his mother’s body and, again, in the kitchen by his father.”
Adam looked at the sleeping child and his heart constricted. It would be hard enough to help a small boy rid himself of the fear of monsters after the experience he’d had. An autistic boy would present a bigger challenge. Anger simmered right beneath the surface. In his profession, no matter how often he’d come in contact with the face of evil, it still never ceased to surprise him. “Did he say anything when you found him?”
Liz shook her head. “Sal and I found him. He took one look at our uniforms and got hysterical. Remembering what Kate had told me about uniforms, I slipped on one of his mother’s blouses. I told Sal to call the paramedics and to go into Dave Henderson’s closet and find shirts, hopefully large enough, for everyone to wear until we could get the child calmed down.
“But Jeremy continued to scream and thrash about so much I had to forcibly hold him down until the paramedics arrived so he wouldn’t hurt himself. I wrapped my arms around him and held him against me as tightly as I could. After a few moments, it seemed to calm him.”
Adam nodded. “You did the right thing. Many autistic children can’t tolerate light touch but crave deep pressure. Just like we swaddle infants in blankets to provide them with a sense of security, sometimes autistic children experience sensory overload and need swaddling as well to help them calm themselves.”
She washed a hand over her face and Adam realized just how exhausted she was.
He walked around the bed and stood beside her. He had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her. But after what he’d done, the poor choices, the mistakes, he didn’t deserve her friendship or her forgiveness—yet. But that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. What he needed was time to prove he had changed and convince her that he was worth a second chance.
Instead, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You need to go home, Lizzie, and get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.” He grinned, trying to lighten the somber mood.
“I can’t. I have to get to the office. I’m sure the state boys have arrived by now. We have to form a task force and discuss investigation strategies.”
“Call your office on the way home. Delegate tasks to other people.” He clasped her forearms and gently pulled her up to face him. “I’ve heard you are a good sheriff, Lizzie Bradford. Rumor has it that you are a great sheriff. But an exhausted, dead-on-her-feet sheriff isn’t going to get the job done. Go home. Grab a couple of hours’ sleep. The state police will still be here when you wake up.”
“You’re right.” She smiled at him and there it was again, that bolt of sunshine hitting him in the face. Her smiles had always had that effect on him. They looked into each other’s eyes. Slowly, a tension, an awareness of past relationships, past hurts surfaced between them and he watched again as memories stole her smile away. She broke eye contact, glanced over her shoulder at the boy and said, “Please take good care of him, Dr. Morgan.”
She crossed the room and paused in the doorway. “And Adam…” When she had his attention, she continued. “Call me Liz. You can even call me Sheriff. Nobody calls me Lizzie.”
He arched an eyebrow. “That’s all I ever called you.”
“I know.” Her words held a sadness that almost broke his heart. “But not anymore.”
Then she slipped out of the room.
TWO
“Sal, can you come in here for a minute?” Liz placed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk.
The wiry Italian strode in. His brown shoulder harness held his Glock in place. Muscular biceps puffed out the short sleeves of his black T-shirt. A thin gold necklace ringed his neck. He grinned, his teeth white and even, and it was all Liz could do not to laugh. He was a walking caricature of a mafioso wannabe—an Italian tough guy. He knew it and played it to the hilt for the ladies. She’d found herself immune to this particular part of his charm years ago.
Sal folded his wiry body onto one of the straight-back