Speed Trap. Patricia Davids

him she was pregnant with his child.

      Like Garrett, Judy had lived a hard life. When they first met at a truck stop in Overland Park, she’d been nursing a cup of coffee and a black eye from her latest in a long line of boyfriends who used their fists on her face.

      She’d looked so alone, so lost. Garrett knew exactly how that felt. When she turned her heartrending smile in his direction and poured out her sad story, Garrett found himself determined to save her.

      And she let him. They’d married within a month.

      His dreams of a family to love and cherish the way he’d never been loved soon evaporated. Judy had a serious drug problem. She stayed with him a couple of years, but not out of love.

      Garrett had simply been her free ride until she found something better. One day, she was gone.

      Like everyone he cared about.

      Getting out of his truck and closing the door, Garrett faced the courthouse again. He didn’t relish the idea of setting foot inside a police station. There were cells inside where men were locked away. Just the thought made his skin crawl. If he had a lick of sense, he’d go home and finish his corral.

      Except he couldn’t. He needed answers, and Sheriff Scott had them. Facing his fears, he walked up the steps.

      Inside the building, he found the door marked with the sheriff’s seal. He stepped into the room and saw a plump woman in her midfifties behind the counter.

      Two deputies were seated at desks behind her. Garrett recognized Fred Lindholm, and his hands balled into fists.

      The last time Garrett’s mother had called for help, Lindholm had been the one to respond. His help amounted to telling Garrett’s father to sober up and take it easy on his old lady. Less than a week later, Garrett’s mother left for good.

      Maybe if Lindholm had done his job and arrested Garrett’s father, things might have turned out differently. The coil of anger and fear inside Garrett wound tighter, but he knew better than to let it loose.

      At the desk next to Lindholm sat a younger man with short red hair and wide serious eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His name tag said Ken Holt. Garrett didn’t know him, but if he was anything like Lindholm, he’d be a good man to avoid.

      “May I help you?” the woman asked.

      Garrett shifted his attention back to the receptionist. “I’d like to talk to Sheriff Scott.”

      “She isn’t in right now. Can I take a message?” The woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lifted a large pink leather purse to her desktop and began searching for something.

      “When do you expect her back?” Garrett asked.

      She pulled a stick of gum from her purse, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. “That’s hard to say.”

      Behind him, he heard the door open and a cool voice he recognized said, “Mr. Bowen, what are you doing here?”

      He turned around to see Mandy framed in the doorway. Once again he was surprised by how pretty she was. The very air around her seemed charged with rare energy. The nameless fear that squeezed Garrett’s throat eased.

      He breathed in the scent of her freshly starched shirt. Beneath the smell of ironed cotton, he caught a subtle sweetness. Honeysuckle?

      A tenacious vine with delicate flowers and a heady perfume that belied its tough nature. The description certainly fit the good sheriff.

      Why did he find her so attractive? The answer eluded him.

      He pushed the thought aside and got back to the reason he was here. “Why didn’t you tell me about Judy’s baby?”

      Mandy walked past him and entered a nearby office. He followed her, determined to get a response.

      A cluttered, heavy wooden desk occupied the center of the room. On the walls hung certificates and wanted posters and a large framed picture of a man in a police uniform with Mandy’s slender build and square chin.

      Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood in front of her desk and regarded Garrett with a steady stare. He had the feeling she was stalling for time, searching for a way to respond.

      “Where did you hear that she had a child?” Her tone was cold enough to frost the windows.

      “Today when I called the minister she worked for to see about funeral arrangements, he asked about her son. Why didn’t you mention she had a kid?”

      Mandy shrugged. “I didn’t think it was any of your business. You never mentioned she had a child.”

      “I didn’t know.” He kept the bitterness out of his voice with difficulty. Judy had always said she didn’t want kids. Maybe she just hadn’t wanted his kids.

      The pain of that thought made him flinch. “Is he my son?”

      Mandy’s face softened for an instant, but the look was gone so quickly he wondered if he had imagined it. She shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

      He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Judy wasn’t home much the last month she lived with me. I think she was seeing someone else, but the baby could be mine. Can I see him?”

      “No. This is still an open investigation.”

      “Do you have any suspects? Besides me, that is.”

      “I’m not at liberty to discuss the case.”

      His bottled-up anger slipped its leash. “I didn’t have anything to do with Judy’s death. Are you even looking for the person who did?”

      “I resent the implication that I’m not doing my job.” Her eyes snapped with suppressed irritation.

      He couldn’t back down. Not now. “Resent away. I want answers.”

      Mandy raised her chin. “Mr. Bowen, the best thing you can do is go home and let us do our job.”

      Once again, the pretty sheriff was throwing up a roadblock. If she hadn’t been so eager to pin Judy’s death on him, he might have accepted her suggestion.

      No, if he was going to get answers, he’d have to get them himself.

      “I’ll find out what I need to know with or without your help, Sheriff.”

      Mandy took a step closer. “Don’t get in my way, Mr. Bowen. If you do, you’ll regret it.”