Lullaby for Two / Child's Play: Lullaby for Two

“After my residency. I also volunteered at a free clinic. But I knew I’d burn out if I kept working at that pace.”

They walked another half block without speaking. Tessa, curious about the path Vince had taken, asked, “Did your law enforcement interest begin in the service?”

“I was stationed at Kirkland Air Force Base in Albuquerque all four years because I was in law enforcement.”

“But why the interest in the first place?”

There was a very long pause before Vince answered, “You knew my mother left. What you didn’t know was that she was murdered.”

Tessa stopped walking and turned to him, her hand on his arm. “Vince. I’m so sorry. You never said anything—”

“It wasn’t something I wanted to remember or talk about. Still don’t, really. She left me and my dad, went to New Orleans and was murdered by a lover. That’s the long and short of it. So I guess I felt I was doing something to right what had gone wrong. That’s not rational of course, but it led me where I am.”

She could feel his taut muscles under his blazer. In the glow of the streetlamp, she could see a beard shadow darkening his jaw. What she couldn’t see was the expression in his eyes under the brim of the Stetson that shadowed them. Even so, due to her imagination or not, she could feel heat emanating from him, rising up from her, and currents rushing from her body into his and back again. She let go of his arm.

They began walking again and soon reached the school’s parking lot where their cars were the only two left. His was a silver SUV. Hers was a small blue sedan. They were both in the front line of the lot about ten spaces apart.

He kept pace with her as she walked toward her car.

“I’m fine now,” she assured him. “You can keep me in your sight as I get in and drive away.”

“I will.”

When he clasped her shoulder, she felt…fire. A rush of memories overwhelmed her. She would have backed away from them if she could have and from him. But his magnetic pull was too great to break.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, though she suspected he knew.

“We’re not strangers,” she murmured, knowing that definitely wasn’t the answer to his question.

“No, we’re not. And even if we wanted to be, that wouldn’t change what we were to each other.”

What were we? a little voice inside her head screamed. Yet, no matter what his answer was, it was too late. They were over. They’d been over for a long time.

“You look scared.” Vince’s hand moved from her shoulder and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do I still have the power to move you?”

Now she did force herself to back away from his touch…forced herself to remember the sadness, the grief and the loss. “It would be foolish of me to answer that question.”

Yet she knew by saying it, she already had.

Her keys in hand, she hurriedly pressed the remote and the car beeped at her. She opened the driver’s door, slipped inside and quickly shut it. She didn’t roll down her window. Maybe she was being a coward, but she didn’t want to hear anything else Vince might have to say. She certainly didn’t want him to touch her again because he did still move her and she couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t accept that.

He stood there watching her as she backed up and drove faster than she should have out of the parking lot. She didn’t glance into her rearview mirror.

She wouldn’t look back again tonight. She absolutely wouldn’t.

Chapter Three

A warning voice inside Tessa’s head whispered, You could have called Vince instead of showing up on the police department’s doorstep. She stood in front of the yellow stucco building, uncertain about being here. But she’d told Vince she’d recommend a physical therapist to him and that’s what she was going to do.

The Sagebrush police department’s heavy glass door led into a building that was old, almost as old as the town, with thick adobe walls and wide windowsills. The plank flooring was dull from years of foot traffic. The dispatcher sat at a scarred wood desk to the left. To the right, the receptionist, Ginny Ruja, busily tapped keyboard keys. The rest of the room was partitioned off by a wooden fence with a swinging gate at its center. There were three desks with computers, two of them occupied by officers in blue uniforms. Beyond the desk area, a hallway led to the left and the jail. To the right, Tessa glimpsed a closed door. It was probably Vince’s office.

Crossing to the receptionist’s desk, she smiled at Ginny, who brought her four-year-old son, Jeremy, to Tessa’s practice.

Ginny looked up from her keyboard, and when she saw Tessa, her face was puzzled. “Hello, Dr. McGuire. Is something wrong? I hope you didn’t have your purse stolen or anything like that.”

Since this was Tessa’s day off, she’d walked to the police station, merely slipping her keys into her jeans pocket. She’d intended to go for a brisk walk after she was finished here.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Even though Tessa knew Ginny, she felt awkward being here. The dispatcher and two officers were casting their gazes her way. “Is Vince Rossi in?” she asked.

Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise. “The chief? Yes, he is, but he asked me not to disturb him for an hour so he could finish some paperwork.” Ginny looked torn as to what she should do.

Tessa was disappointed, but she should have called before coming, anyway. She wasn’t going to barge in when she didn’t even belong here.

“I understand. I should have made an appointment.” She slipped a folded index card from her pocket. “I told V—Chief Rossi that I would find some information he wanted.” She held out the index card to Ginny. “If you would just give this to him—”

The receptionist made a sudden decision. “Hold on a minute. Let me buzz him.” Before Tessa could protest, Ginny pressed the button on the intercom. “Chief, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Dr. McGuire is here. She says she has information for you. Do you want me to just take it or should I send her in?”

There was a slight pause, then Vince said, “I’ll be right there.”

Ginny gave Tessa a quizzical look as if wondering why the chief of police would come out to see her.

Tessa folded the index card to give herself something to do. She heard the door to Vince’s office open and then there he was, striding toward her. He was wearing navy slacks and a white oxford shirt with a black bolo tie.

“This is a surprise. I thought after—” He stopped, realizing they had an interested audience.

“I have those names for you…physical therapists.”

Vince knew as well as she did that she could have called. Just seeing him caused her heart to gallop at breakneck speed.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you my office. You can tell me about the therapists.”

If she left now, quickly, there’d be questions about why she’d come and why she hadn’t accepted his invitation. But if she accepted his invitation, there would probably still be talk. Though her reason for being here could be pushed into the realm of a professional consultation. She was, after all, his son’s doctor.

She nodded to Vince and started toward the wooden gate. He reached it before she did and held it open for her. When she passed him, she was very close to him—close enough to smell the scent of his cologne, close enough to stir up too many memories. By the time she reached his office door, she felt hot all over and told herself to calm down, to act as if Vince were any other classmate who’d moved back to Sagebrush.

Right.

Vince’s office wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to hold an expansive metal desk with a computer station to his right, four tall file cabinets and a set of barrister bookshelves. The yellow stucco walls were bare but a casement window provided a view of the back of the property. A stack of file folders toppled sideways on Vince’s desk.

“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” she was quick to assure him. “I can see you’re busy.”

“I need a break.” He gestured to the coffeepot on top of the bookshelves. “Cup of coffee?” Then he snapped his fingers. “You drink tea now. Sorry, I don’t have any of that.”

“I’m fine.”

He looked over her, assessing everything from her striped tank top to her white jeans, then he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. She perched on the edge of the wooden captain’s chair, fingering the index card she was still holding. “I have the names of two therapists. Both are good. You might be able to get in to see one before the other.”

He came around the desk instead of sitting behind it, took the index card from her and sat on a corner.