The Officer And The Renegade

“I’ll turn on the TV, too, so you don’t have to worry about me overhearing anything.”

“Is he terrific or what?” Taylor asked her father. “He reminds me of me at that age.”

“Lucky for you, he inherited his father’s big feet.”

Everyone groaned and Kyle stomped upstairs. When Taylor heard him noisily shut the door to his room, she slumped into the chair he had vacated. She shifted again as the revolver pinched into her waist.

Her father watched her, his expression growing sympathetic. “It was bad, huh?”

“You have to ask?”

“At least you’re not bleeding externally. How’re you doing on the inside? I see you resisted that beer.”

“Barely. Since I am all the law that’s available for the foreseeable future, I thought it best to abstain.”

“I’m sorry, hon. This is some mess I’m bringing you back into.”

Talk about understatements. “You have no idea.”

“So he refuses to leave, huh?”

“Can you blame him? Jane has a business. He won’t abandon her.” She shrugged to indicate the rest was moot.

“Then you’re right We’ll have to convince Murdock to behave himself until things change.”

“I said you’ll have to convince him.” Taylor pointed her thumb at herself. “You know he’s going to laugh in my face if I try to strong-arm him. All he’s going to see is the girl who used to be crazy about Hugh Blackstone.”

“Am I hearing this correctly? What happened to the sharp cookie who took on gang members in Detroit and wasn’t afraid to face off a two-hundred-pound mugger?”

“Don’t start with that kind of nonsense. You know it’s an entirely different situation when you’re carrying the clout of a huge department and that backup is on the way, than compared to paying a social call to someone who knew you when you were in diapers.” She thought of the tough and resilient rancher who’d once survived a winter night in the elements after the fall and tragic death of his mount as he hunted a poacher. “Besides, no one tells Murdock Marsden what to do. If he wants Hugh out of town, he’ll do what he thinks is necessary to make that happen.”

“Well. he won’t listen to you dressed like that, that’s for sure.”

How typical. When he’d been in a hurry to get her to talk to Hugh, he’d dismissed her attire as unimportant, but now he was a fashion critic. “Speaking of uniforms and psychological clout, what do you expect me to wear?”

Her father frowned. “Good question. I can’t blame the town for being tightfisted with my budget because they’re keeping taxes low in order to draw in more entrepreneurs. But it’s embarrassing that we can’t afford two patrol cars, let alone salary someone to man the office during regular hours. If Orrin wasn’t content to accept that cell to sleep in as trade for his services, I’d be in a real bind.”

No small truth there, except that Taylor suspected Orrin would be as happy to sleep at his desk if a cell was unavailable. What’s more, if someone ever complained about the trade-off, no doubt her father’s longtime sidekick would be camped out in one of the spare bedrooms here. Still, her question hadn’t been answered.

“Lew used to wear what you did, right?” She’d always done her best to avoid any contact with the ex-cop who’d grown increasingly arrogant and difficult to control over the years.

“Same as me, a blue shirt and jeans.”

“Okay, then...I brought along a few of my summer uniform shirts. I’d planned to take off the patches and wear them around the house, but will they and my jeans suffice?”

“Shoot, sure. And you’d better dig out your old straw hat from your closet. That sun out there’s more brutal as ever.”

Taylor had thought the same thing herself this morning when she and Kyle were on the interstate. The whole world was talking about the depleting ozone layer and the increasing threat of skin cancer, but in the southwest precautions had been a way of life for ages.

“I’ll go up and get it in a minute.” She would also take the scissors to a shirt right away so she could change. “I thought after that I’d pick up some lunch and, after we eat, head back to town to start saying hello to everyone.”

“You take care of you, don’t worry about us. We have a whole plate of chicken and potato salad in the refrigerator. I had Lola make it for that exact reason.”

His consideration came as a pleasant surprise, as was the revelation that he and café owner Lola Langtry sounded like more of an item. Growing up, and even when she would visit, he’d tended to take advantage of having a female in the house. She didn’t mind; she simply had wanted him to know that she’d noted it.

“Thanks. I was afraid I was going to have to train you before you realized I wasn’t about to play superwoman around here. I barely have Kyle broken in. You’d require a serious five-year plan.”

“You want me to really dazzle you? I drafted Lola to get her kin to move my things down to the back bedroom, so I wouldn’t have to deal with those damned stairs, and you two would have more space and privacy up there.”

Not only was that safer for him, but Taylor was touched by his awareness that she wanted to retain a bit of her independence, and her sole parental control over her son. But almost as interesting was the repeated mention of Lola Langtry. “Why haven’t you married her yet, Dad? You two have been an item for...what? It’s been at least ten years since her husband died.”

“Things are fine as they are, thank you very much. In case you haven’t noticed, we Bennings don’t do so great in the romance department. Look what happened with me and your mother. Then there’s you and Hugh. And we won’t even get into you and Jim.”

Taylor winced. She’d long gotten over her mother, who’d been an ambitious and restless woman who left them when Taylor was a baby. The last she’d heard of her was back when she’d first gone to Detroit and had played with the idea of reacquainting herself with the woman who’d given birth to her. It hadn’t been difficult to track her down—Ruth Grace Taylor hadn’t attempted to hide. By then a high-powered business executive in New York, she also wasn’t interested in a reunion. Polite but firm, she’d made it clear during the brief phone conversation. “It wouldn’t work out, Taylor. I do wish you all the best life has to offer, but you’d be disappointed in the morsels I have to offer. Seek your own destiny.”

This second rejection had hurt, but not as much as her brief relationship with Jim Patrick continued to eat at her conscience. She’d never explained what happened, the whys, to her father, and considering what was inevitably going to happen she knew it was time.

“Dad, I need to tell you something.”

He waved away her hesitant statement. “There’s nothing you can say about that jerk. Any guy who won’t even give his son his name—”

“That wasn’t Jim’s fault. I made the decision for Kyle to have only my name.”

“Sure. Because Patrick was a two-timing bum.”

“No, because he fell in love. Really in love and not the sham our marriage was.”

Her father clearly didn’t know where to go with that. “Okay...maybe...you two did put the cart before the horse as the saying goes and were forced to get married, but that’s no reason to excuse his behavior with that...that—”

“Dad.” Taylor sat forward, willing him to listen and understand. “I was already pregnant when I met Jim.”

That finally silenced him. She could see him doing some counting and coming up with an answer he didn’t like.

She’d been so careful, so clever, so afraid. She’d told so many lies. Before he found out the truth in a less sensitive way, which was bound to happen now that she was here again. Taylor decided her father should hear it from her first. Of course, he was a bright man; she could see he was already drawing conclusions.

“Wait a minute...you two met the day you arrived in Detroit to move in with your old school friend, Ally.”

“That’s true. I was about to jaywalk and Jim grabbed me, saving me from getting killed. One thing led to another and...”

Her father held up a hand. “Don’t tell me details.”

“I didn’t intend to.”

“But you were pregnant when you arrived in Detroit?”

She nodded.

“Hugh? Kyle is Hugh’s son!”