What She Saw

She looked at him, her jaw dropping. “I’m supposed to believe that? You’re a truck driver, Buck Devlin. Why would they ask you?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Could you hold it down? I don’t want the whole world to know.”

“That you’re a storyteller? Got any more tall tales for me?”

“It’s not a tall tale. Yes, I’m a driver now. But before that, I was a military cop. That’s why the company asked me to look into this. They don’t want to bring the feds in because it could kill business.”

“Prove it,” she said shortly. What kind of idiot did he take her for? Angry about being lied to, she stormed toward her car. Damn, he wasn’t even a good liar.

“Haley.”

She didn’t stop. Not that it made any difference. He was beside her before she reached her car.

“Just listen,” he said. “Please.”

“I may be a small-town girl, but I’m not stupid. I think I’ve heard enough.”

He caught her arm, and when she tried to pull free, he didn’t let go. That made her even madder. “I’ll scream.”

“Dammit, Haley, just let me finish. My company’s been having problems with our shipments. You saw something happening with Ray’s truck that night. You recognized him in the diner. You talked to him. Less than an hour later he’s dead. If Ray’s death wasn’t an accident, then you’re the proverbial loose end.”

That froze her. Her ears buzzed and the world seemed to rock beneath her. Haley leaned against her car, waiting for it to settle down again. What the hell was going on?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But there’s no easy way to tell you. Is there some place we can talk where you’ll feel safe but half the town won’t hear me?”

She might have laughed if she wasn’t still feeling so shaken. Anger had turned to shock in an instant, and her brain was having trouble making the adjustment. “Around here? Anybody who wants a private conversation here has it at home.” And that was the truth.

He let go of her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. I always am.” She knew that for a fact. Still leaning against her car, she closed her eyes and tried to take it all in. What if he wasn’t lying? And what if what she had seen, or thought she had seen, had something to do with Ray’s death? How many people knew? Two cops. Claire and Hasty. And that other driver she had never seen before, the one who had come in for coffee with Ray. The one who, now that she thought about it, had probably been driving the other truck when the cargo had been transferred. God!

She opened her eyes and saw Buck watching her with evident concern.

“I’m sure,” he said, “you don’t want to come to the La-Z-Rest with me. I’m equally certain you don’t want me to know where you live. So where else will you feel safe while we talk?”

Haley nodded as her mind stopped reeling. The whole town was going to be talking if she and Buck stood here any longer. “Do you know where the college campus is?”

“Yeah. I walked around some today.”

“I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.” She didn’t offer him a ride. That would make people talk, too. But over on the college campus there were people who weren’t local. A stranger wouldn’t stick out and tongues wouldn’t start wagging. “There are some benches in the center of the quad.” And there’d still be plenty of students and faculty around at this hour, even if it was summer.

“Fifteen minutes,” he agreed.

She drove off, glancing at him in her rearview mirror, and wondering what the heck she had just gotten into.

Buck had spent the day wandering. A need to know the physical territory was ingrained in him. He’d hit a surplus shop and found a decent pair of lace-up boots he could run in, and added some extra jeans and some shirts that would fit in around here, although he didn’t go for anything approaching the perennially popular Western look. A ball cap suited him better than a cowboy hat, and he wasn’t putting anything on his feet that might keep him from moving fast.

He could have run to the campus. In fact, he would have liked to run, it would have felt good, but he figured it would draw attention. A brisk walk would have to do, and he still arrived at the quad on campus before Haley.

He sat there on the bench, wondering if she would even show, or if he’d find himself talking to a couple of cops, explaining why he was harassing a nice local girl.

He wondered about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He didn’t worry about much, and he was fairly sure that even a superficial background check would reassure the cops. The stuff they’d never see, the stuff so deeply classified it would never see the light of day, was another story. But nobody could get at that.

So he waited, pondering how best to gain Haley’s trust after having given her plenty of reason to think he was either crazy or a con man. He could see it from her point of view. Seeing things from other people’s points of view was one of his gifts—and one of his curses.

She was right to be dubious, and he sure as hell hadn’t given her a thing to reassure her. Wild story from a stranger. Great start.

But she showed up. He heard the car door slam and turned his head in time to see her coming his way.

She was still wearing the simple black dress she had worn at the funeral home and he couldn’t resist giving her the once-over. Trim figure, shapely calves, delicate ankles. Even so modestly dressed she wouldn’t ever fail to catch a man’s attention. Much to his surprise, she carried two large cups of takeout coffee and when she reached him, she handed him one.

“Okay,” she said as she sat on the bench beside him. A group of young men and women emerged from a building and started walking across the far side of the quad from them. Not long after, a smaller group appeared.

“I’m waiting,” she reminded him.

“Somebody know you’re here?”

“Of course.”

“With me?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “I hope you trust whoever it is.”

“More than I trust you right now.”

“Just tell me you didn’t tell them the whole story.”

“Of course not! Sheesh, Buck, I don’t believe it myself yet. It sounds like something out of a movie.”

“I’ll give you that.” He put his coffee on the ground beside his feet and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he flipped out his military ID and his commercial driver’s license. “The ID doesn’t say much, but maybe it’ll help.”

She peered at the two laminated cards in the dim light from a nearby pole. “How can you still be military and drive a truck?”

“Ex-military. I have privileges because I was medically discharged. That card means I can use base facilities, like the exchange and the hospital.”

“What happened?”

“That’s a long story for another time. There’s a more pressing matter.”

Slowly she handed the cards back to him, but her eyes were on his face. “Buxton Devlin,” she said slowly. “It looks real, I guess. But Buxton?”

“My mother’s maiden name. She died having me and my dad named me for her. I guess he figured Mary wouldn’t work.”

Humor sparkled briefly across her face. “I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Anyway, Buxton became Buck real fast. My dad shortened it when I first started talking and couldn’t get the whole thing out right. Good thing, too, since I was a military brat. It was easier navigating childhood as Buck.”