Wild Horse Springs

“You have prison food?” Lauren smothered a giggle.

Dan shook his head. “That’s not the worst of it. I’ve had half a dozen blankets delivered and threats called in that I’d better not let the boy freeze in a cold cell.”

“You let people threaten you?”

“Sure. One was Miss Bees. She has to be ninety, but she considers it her civic duty to call in a threat at least once a month. Another was Vern Wagner. I don’t think he knew what he was mad about, but Miss Bees probably told him to call in. A few others just dropped off threats with the blankets.”

Lauren tilted her head, looking in the cell. “I don’t see any blankets.”

“Pearly’s examining them now for hacksaws. She learned the word contraband from a TV show last year, and now her new word keeps bouncing around in the office.” Dan realized he was starting to sound like a Saturday Night Live skit. Big cities had gangs and major crime; he had senior citizens and do-gooders. Some days it seemed to Dan he had the roughest beat.

Lauren put her hand on her father’s arm. “Maybe I should come home to help you, Pop? I did study law, even if I did chicken out on taking the bar.”

“I thought you did come home to ride shotgun,” he said with a smile. “Any chance you and Tim could take the late shift, if Thatcher is still locked up tonight? You two are as close to deputies as I’ve got right now. Fifth Weathers is down in Austin for training, so I’m shorthanded. I’ve got something I have to do tonight, and Thatcher is in no danger other than being fed to death or smothered by quilts.”

“You got a date?” she teased.

“Yeah, with a wild, hot lady.” He told the truth, knowing she wouldn’t believe him.

“Sure, Pop.” She laughed. “Any way I can help. You look tired. Go home. Go to bed.”

“My plan exactly.” In his mind, his fingers were already moving into Brandi Malone’s mass of midnight hair.

* * *

FIVE HOURS LATER, Lauren was curled up next to Tim in the empty cell, watching a zombie movie on his laptop.

Thatcher had borrowed her phone and moved to the far corner of his cell. She guessed he was talking to Kristi, the only girlfriend he’d ever had, but Kristi must have been carrying the conversation because Thatcher hadn’t said a word in ten minutes. He just nodded now and then, as if Kristi could see him through the phone.

“This is not what I meant when I suggested spending the night together, L,” Tim whispered as he inched his fingers under her sweater.

“Look at the bright side. We’re almost alone.” Lauren gently shoved his hand away. She gave him a look that silently whispered, not here, not now.

“Yeah, but we’re both dressed and have a teenage jailbird watching over us.” Tim looked more resigned than frustrated. He never pushed, even when they were alone, even when she didn’t bother to give a reason for shoving him away.

She shifted out from under his arm. “We’ve got to do something to help Thatcher. I can’t stand just waiting around to see if something happens. This could go bad fast, Tim, and if Thatcher’s officially charged, it may be too late.”

“What can we do? It’s almost midnight.”

She didn’t look at him when she whispered, “We’ve got to call Lucas.”

Lauren didn’t want to chance Tim seeing how she felt about Lucas, so she glanced away. They’d all been friends in high school, which seemed like a lifetime ago. “If we call him tonight, he could be here by eight in the morning.”

“Lucas is big time, L. I read an article online that says he’s moving up in that fancy firm he stepped into right out of college. A few years from now, I wouldn’t be surprised if he runs for office or becomes a judge or a senator or something. He wouldn’t drop everything and come back home to maybe help a kid he’s probably never met. We might have all been friends years ago, but those days are long gone.”

Lauren closed her eyes, fighting back tears. The Lucas she once knew would come, but the Lucas who worked in Houston now hadn’t called once to check on her since she graduated college. That Lucas, if he came home at all, didn’t call friends from the past when he was in town.

She’d never told anyone, not even Tim, how much she’d loved the young Lucas, the one full of dreams.

Tim would only be hurt if he knew another had been in her heart since she was fifteen. It was better that he didn’t know about what had happened between her and Lucas, the promises they’d whispered once, the few stolen moments they’d shared. As her best friend, Tim would be surprised she’d never told him. As her lover, he’d be crushed that she’d held someone else in her dreams all this time.

Lauren stood and walked to the window. Had anything really happened between her and Lucas? she wondered. Had she simply cobbled together a romance from a few kisses and wishes? At fifteen she’d been crazy about the boy who’d saved her from an accident. At eighteen she’d thought they’d be together through college, but he’d pulled away. At twenty-one they’d shared a passionate kiss that had gone nowhere. Maybe the Lucas she knew was more in her imagination than real.

Stick to the facts, she almost whispered aloud. How she felt about Lucas Reyes didn’t matter. Thatcher needed help, and Lucas was the most powerful lawyer she knew.

Lauren held her hand out toward Thatcher. “I need to borrow my phone back.”

He said a quick goodbye and handed over her cell. “No problem. We were into reruns of the argument anyway.”

Lauren felt sorry for him. “Everything all right with you and Kristi?”

Thatcher shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. She talked for a while and then got real mad because I asked her for the summary. I told her I was too tired to listen much longer.”

He dropped onto his cot, which was padded with several blankets. “I swear I don’t understand her. Every time I think I know where I stand with her, the world shifts and I lose my marker.”

Lauren knew how he felt.

Walking out into the hallway, she sat on the first step. All the offices were closed now, and the wooden steps descended into darkness below. Pushing the number that had been Lucas Reyes’s cell in college, she waited. If he’d changed his number, she had no way of reaching him. If he said no, she could think of nowhere else to turn.

One ring. Two, three.

She shouldn’t have called. Not this late. Not without having thought about what she’d say.

Four, five, six.

“Hello,” a deep, sleepy voice said.

“Lucas?” She couldn’t believe he was on the line. It had been so long. A thousand days, a million dreams.

“Lauren,” he whispered.

For a few moments, they just breathed as if they weren’t hundreds of miles apart.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Is there some emergency?”

She could hear his voice hardening, becoming more formal, putting a distance between them that couldn’t be simply measured in miles. He’d whispered once when they stared up at the stars that she was his sky. Did he remember?

Lauren followed his lead. Talk about the problem at hand, not her own feelings. “I need some legal advice.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No. It’s a friend. A kid in Crossroads. I was hoping you could come help.” She realized she wasn’t the right one to talk to a lawyer about Thatcher’s case. He obviously didn’t even want help, and her father might be mad that she hadn’t waited to see if he could figure things out.

She heard paper shuffling and a click like a lamp being turned on.

The voice that finally came back was cold, a stranger. “Give me the facts.”

She suddenly wished she hadn’t called. “It’s really only an assault charge. I thought you might be able to do something. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m sorry I woke you.”