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“Convince me...”
Yeah, he could do that. She was already trembling in his arms...
Making love... Having Fleur in his arms... Suddenly the thought that had been eluding him for the last couple of minutes sprang clear into his head. This morning, as he’d drifted off to sleep, the emotion that had resounded in his heart had made an attempt to be heard.
I love you.
He’d come to his senses just in time and not repeated the garbled words because they weren’t for Fleur to hear. But it made no difference, because he couldn’t just flip a switch in his heart and feel differently about her. If he loved her, then he’d pay a price later when she left, but that was already a fait accompli. Having her now was more than worth the cost later.
He slid down from the stool, picking her up in his arms. Fleur gave a little squeal of delight. “Where are you taking me now?”
“You have to ask...?”
* * *
“I’m glad I never read that leaflet about making love after injuries like mine. It couldn’t possibly do you justice...” Fleur lay on his chest, lazily running her fingers over the well-defined muscles. It was a pleasure that—along with all the other things about Rick—just didn’t seem to get old.
He chuckled. “That’s good to hear. It’s only really a set of guidelines.”
Guidelines that Rick had explored thoroughly and applied a great deal of ingenuity to. Fleur was convinced that if she’d been locked in a full body cast, he still would have found a way to make it special. Still would have made her feel as if she was beautiful.
“I was thinking...”
“Yeah? What were you thinking?”
“I called Jim Brady while I was making breakfast, and asked if I could see my file. He said I could come to his office anytime I wanted. I just have to give him some notice, so he can make sure he’s around.”
“That’s good of him.”
“I was...wondering if you’d come with me.”
Rick wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I was going to ask you if you wouldn’t mind my coming along. When do you want to go?”
“I could see whether he has some time this afternoon.” Maybe Rick had something else planned for the rest of the afternoon but somehow this was more of an expression of sharing than almost anything Fleur could think of.
“This afternoon would be great.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SHE KNEW THAT Jim Brady was busy today—snowstorms didn’t fall under the mantle of law enforcement, because Jim couldn’t arrest the weather, but he’d be out and about, making sure that no one needed help. But he’d taken time out from that to come back to his office and brew one of the strongest cups of coffee that Fleur had ever tasted.
He’d ushered them behind the counter and into the main office, where his desk was crammed together with two others that were used by the temporary deputies during the summer. Switching off the shortwave radio, he poured the coffee and led them along the corridor right at the back.
This was the part that Fleur had been dreading. The interview room had become even colder and more forbidding in her imagination, but it was the only place that afforded any privacy. But Jim turned left, instead of right, taking them through a door that Fleur didn’t remember having been there.
“We knocked this through last year, and I took over an old storeroom from the town hall offices. What do you think?”
There were two blue and white striped sofas and a couple of armchairs. Also a water dispenser and a coffee machine, with three boxes of tissues stacked up next to it. A toybox, painted a darker shade of blue than the walls. The overall effect was...much more welcoming. Blue...
“They say blue’s restful.” Jim surveyed the room with an air of satisfaction.
“Yes, it is, we use it a lot at the clinic.” Rick came to her rescue, and Fleur nodded her agreement. “You’ve done this all yourself?”
“Yep. I figured we needed somewhere nice to talk to people who come in to report a crime. The interview room is for suspects.”
That sounded like a promising start. Fleur sat down on one of the sofas and Rick looked around the room, commenting on the state-of-the-art video recording equipment that was tucked discreetly in one corner, and examining the painted rendering of the harbor, which was composed mostly of different shades of blue. She sipped her coffee, wincing slightly as the caffeine bolt hit the back of her throat and made her heart beat faster. Maybe a couple of boxes of herbal tea would be a good idea if Jim wanted a restful feel, but the intent of this room was very clear. She was a guest here, and not a suspect.
Rick chatted to Jim, allowing her time to settle. There was a manila file on the low table in front of her, and Fleur saw that it had her name on it. She hesitated. Now that the old file was within her reach, she had no excuse not to look in it. And she felt suddenly ashamed of what she might find there. Whether it might be clear that Sheriff Taylor had made exactly the right decision when he’d said that Fleur had provided no proper evidence and a jury wouldn’t believe her.
