Where Love Abides

If she had, he felt sorry for her.

But he also knew there was nothing he could do to help her, just as he’d been unable to help Linda.

Not that she wanted him to, of course. Christine Turner had already posted a large Keep Away sign. And he intended to honor it.

Because the last thing he needed in his life was another woman with problems.

Christine finished the note to Marge and pulled out her checkbook. When she’d prepared to leave the B and B a few days ago, Marge had refused to let her pay for the room. While Christine hadn’t wanted to make an issue of it in front of the sheriff, she didn’t intend to take advantage of the woman’s kindness and hospitality. She could afford a night’s lodging. And she didn’t want to incur any obligations, to owe anyone anything that could be used to manipulate her. Not that she suspected the affable Marge of such intent. But she hadn’t suspected it of Jack, either.

Gazing out the window of her small, two-story farmhouse, Christine suppressed the shudder that ran through her as she thought of the man who’d wooed and won her in a whirlwind courtship that had fulfilled every romantic fantasy she’d ever had. Elegant dinners, dozens of roses, winging to black-tie events on the company plane he’d often piloted. She’d felt like Cinderella.

But her fairy tale had worked in reverse. First had come the happily-ever-after part, then the bad stuff. Her world had crumbled as she’d realized that Jack’s interest and attentions had been a sham, a carefully crafted plan to win a woman who would meet his father’s approval and pave the way to the top spot in the family-owned business.

Sudden tears stung her eyes, and she swiped at them in anger. She’d done enough crying, and enough regretting, to last a lifetime. The past was behind her, and tomorrow would be better. Fresh Start Farm was up and running, and while she’d never get rich on her small-scale operation, it allowed her to spend her days in a wholesome environment, in fresh air and open spaces. The income from the farm, combined with the modest returns on the investments she’d made with her smaller-than-expected inheritance from Jack, would allow her to live a comfortable, independent life. One in which she didn’t owe anyone a thing. Including Marge.

Pulling her attention back to the present, Christine wrote out the check and signed her name. Her maiden name. That was still an adjustment, after using Barlow for four-and-a-half years. But a good one.

After tucking the check into her note, Christine sealed the envelope and affixed a stamp. That was one obligation out of the way.

As for the sheriff—he’d gone above and beyond in his assistance, and she didn’t want to owe him any favors, either. Writing a check wasn’t an option, but she recalled his mentioning a young daughter. Maybe she could send the child a gift to repay the debt. A picture book, perhaps. She could order an appropriate one on the Internet and have it shipped to the sheriff’s office.

Satisfied with the plan, Christine pulled on a wide-brimmed hat and headed outside. For the first few days after the accident she hadn’t felt well enough to work in her garden. Now she had to make up for lost time. But as she stepped into the warm sunlight and drew a deep breath of the pungent, spicy air wafting from the rows of neatly planted herbs, she didn’t mind in the least.

There was nowhere else she’d rather be. Here, she was safe. And free.

Chapter Three

“Package came for you while you were out, Dale. I put it on your desk.”

The sheriff looked over at his deputy as he closed the office door against the lingering summer heat of early September. “Thanks, Marv. And thanks for covering for me.”

“No problem.” The deputy stood and stretched. “You sure you don’t need me to stay a while longer? Alice is finally putting her foot down about that rose arbor I said I’d replace after we moved here last year, and she’ll be waiting for me with saw in hand when I get home. But it’s too hot for a garden project.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Dale’s lips. “Sorry. Can’t help you out. You should have thought of that before you took early retirement from that cushy corporate security job and decided to move to the country and live a life of leisure.”

The other man snorted. “Leisure my foot! Alice has a list a mile long. Let me tell you, this deputy gig is a godsend. Gets me out of the house a few times a week at least.”

Chuckling, Dale regarded the older man. Except for his bristly gray hair, Marv Wallace didn’t look anywhere near his fifty-six years. Fit and tanned, he exuded energy and enthusiasm. And as far as Dale was concerned, Marv was the godsend. The flexibility and availability of the affable, hardworking deputy was a much-appreciated blessing for a single-father sheriff.

Thank goodness the city council had finally seen the logic in having a part-time deputy on call. Oak Hill might be small, but the town did need backup. Marv had been on staff only a few months, but he’d already proven invaluable on a number of occasions.

“Anything going on?” Dale moved to the coffeemaker in one corner and lifted the pot to pour himself a cup of the strong brew.

“Just one call. From a Christine Turner.”

Dale swung toward the deputy, pot in hand. “What’s the problem?”

“She was out working in her garden early this morning, and a car came by at a high rate of speed, swerved off the road as it came around the bend in front of her place and cut a swath through her pumpkin patch. I took a spin out there, and it’s torn up pretty good. She got a license number, though.”

If she’d been close enough to see the license, she’d been close enough to get hit, Dale realized. His mouth settled into a grim line and he set down the coffeepot. “Did you run it?”

“Yep. Registered to Les Mueller.”

“Sounds like Stephen is at it again.” Les owned one of the state’s biggest dairies and was the largest employer for miles around. But he’d been having problems with his seventeen-year-old son.

“That’s what I figured. She said there were three teenage males in the car.”

Fisting his hands on his hips, Dale shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on with that kid. This is the third time in the past six months he’s been involved in some sort of minor incident with the law. Except this time, it could have been a lot worse. Chri… Ms. Turner could have been hit.”

“I pointed that out to her.”

“Where’s the complaint?”

“She didn’t file one.”

Dale frowned. “She called to report the incident, we made a positive I.D., and she doesn’t want to press charges?”

“Nope.” Marv sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “You ever meet her?”

“Yeah. A couple of weeks ago. Her truck skidded off the road the night we had all that rain. I found her unconscious behind the wheel as I was driving by. Brought her in to see Sam. Why?”

The deputy arched his eyebrows. “You never mentioned that.”

“Nothing much to mention.” Dale reached again for the coffeepot, using that as an excuse to look away. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Marv about the incident. But something about it had left him unsettled, and he hadn’t been inclined to dwell on the encounter.

“Hmph.” From Marv’s speculative tone, it was clear that Dale’s response didn’t satisfy him. But the deputy let it pass. “Anyway, did you pick up any odd vibes from her?”

Dale shot him a probing look as he finished pouring his coffee. “What do you mean, odd?”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it. She just seemed nervous around me, and she kept her distance. I never invaded her personal space, but whenever I got within a few feet of her, she backed up. I wondered if it was me, or if she’s like that with everybody.”

Interesting, Dale reflected. “She was that way with me, too. But she seemed fine around Sam and Marge.”

“Must be the uniform. You run any stats on her?”

“No reason to. The plates came back clean, and she didn’t break any laws.”

“Curious thing, though.”

“At the moment, I’m more curious about why she didn’t want to press charges.”

“Can’t give you an answer to that, either. I ran the license while I was there, and told her who the car belonged to. She asked me a few questions about Les, and after I explained who he was, she got this real cold look and said to forget it. I told her Les would make things right, but she didn’t want to pursue it.”

“Stephen needs to be called to task for this. Reckless driving is a serious matter. And if he’d hit Ms. Turner, he could be facing involuntary manslaughter charges.”

“The lady didn’t seem convinced that anything good would come of pursuing this.”

“Okay. Let me think about this one.” Frustrated, Dale raked his fingers through his hair. “In the meantime, Alice is waiting for you.”