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them. You're all tough guys and gals. It shouldn't even dent you, because you're made of steel." She
turned in her seat, as far as the seat belt would allow, and met his curious eyes. "But you're not. Part of
you is very human, and it hurts to look at people when they've been killed. That only means you feel
compassion, not that you're weak."
He seemed less strained. He stared out the dusty windshield as they approached the ranch house.
She smiled. "Of course, we both know that you can chew up ten penny nails," she added with a wicked
grin.
He let out a chuckle as he braked behind the big truck that was permanently blocking the driveway and
went around it on the grass.
"I can't do that," she remarked, wincing as she saw the ditch barely two inches from the passenger-
side tires. "I just know I'll run off into that gully if I try."
"With that attitude, you would." He pulled up at the front porch. It was strangely deserted. "Why does
Cash hate models?" he asked her bluntly.
She hesitated. But her loyalty to Judd was stronger than her loyalty to Cash. "His stepmother was one,"
she told him. "She split up his family."
"Tough."
She nodded. "He can chew up ten penny nails, too," she offered.
He didn't smile. His hand reached out and tugged at a long wisp of blond hair that had escaped from
her bun.
"You should be wearing pretty clothes and hanging out at the mall."
She made an insulting noise. "Don't stereotype me."
His eyebrows arched. "Was I? I thought young women your age liked those things."
"I like bulls," she said. "Beautiful Salers bulls and young Hereford bulls, and crossbreed calves that
other ranchers would envy, raised organically."
He shook his head.
"So do you," she pointed out.
He chuckled. "Maybe I do." He twisted the soft hair around his thumb and studied it. His whole face
clenched.
He hesitated, but only until he saw the quiet compassion in her expression. "This victim was just
twenty-five,"
he said abruptly. "She was pregnant. She was lying in the dirt, off the highway in tall grass. She
looked so alone, so vulnerable, so helpless, lying there nude except for a ripped blouse. She'd been
stabbed repeatedly and mutilated as if the person who did it hated her femininity. I wouldn't have told
her husband how bad it was, but the media reported every gory detail. He ended up being sedated in
the hospital."
Ignoring the certainty that she shouldn't touch him, involuntarily her fingers touched the strong hand
holding her hair. "You'll catch the guy who did it," she said firmly.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Guy?"
"She was found in a ditch, and the crime scene was ritualistic. Her hair was haloed around her head,
she was lying with her face up and her eyes open in a spread-eagled position. There was a handful of
dirt in her mouth.
Everyone in law enforcement said that it had all the earmarks of a vengeance killing, as if the killer
hated her.
Could it be a serial murder? Most serial killers are white men between the ages of twenty and thirty-
five, loners, they..."
"Good Lord!" he muttered. "How do you know that?"
"Cash has been keeping me posted and I've read all about the crime scene. I like to read about
profiling, too,"
she said. "And there are lots of these real-life detective shows on TV about how murders are solved.
Since I know somebody in the business of catching crooks, it doesn't hurt to know a little."
He laughed. "Not scared I'll come home in a box one night?"
Her fingers caressed his strong hand. "You can take care of yourself," she said softly. "You're quick-
witted, and you don't trust people." She sighed. "But I do say a lot of prayers when you're working on
a case like this."
He smiled tenderly at her. "That's nice."
She wrinkled her nose. "Just don't get shot, okay? Or if you do, get shot just a little."
"I'll do my best," he promised.
She searched his black eyes slowly. "My quality of life would diminish without you. Even if you
marry some hotshot international model."
Both eyebrows went up. "Marry?"
"Right. Dirty word." She removed her fingers. "God forbid you should ever put on a ring that isn't [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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them. You're all tough guys and gals. It shouldn't even dent you, because you're made of steel." She
turned in her seat, as far as the seat belt would allow, and met his curious eyes. "But you're not. Part of
you is very human, and it hurts to look at people when they've been killed. That only means you feel
compassion, not that you're weak."
He seemed less strained. He stared out the dusty windshield as they approached the ranch house.
She smiled. "Of course, we both know that you can chew up ten penny nails," she added with a wicked
grin.
He let out a chuckle as he braked behind the big truck that was permanently blocking the driveway and
went around it on the grass.
"I can't do that," she remarked, wincing as she saw the ditch barely two inches from the passenger-
side tires. "I just know I'll run off into that gully if I try."
"With that attitude, you would." He pulled up at the front porch. It was strangely deserted. "Why does
Cash hate models?" he asked her bluntly.
She hesitated. But her loyalty to Judd was stronger than her loyalty to Cash. "His stepmother was one,"
she told him. "She split up his family."
"Tough."
She nodded. "He can chew up ten penny nails, too," she offered.
He didn't smile. His hand reached out and tugged at a long wisp of blond hair that had escaped from
her bun.
"You should be wearing pretty clothes and hanging out at the mall."
She made an insulting noise. "Don't stereotype me."
His eyebrows arched. "Was I? I thought young women your age liked those things."
"I like bulls," she said. "Beautiful Salers bulls and young Hereford bulls, and crossbreed calves that
other ranchers would envy, raised organically."
He shook his head.
"So do you," she pointed out.
He chuckled. "Maybe I do." He twisted the soft hair around his thumb and studied it. His whole face
clenched.
He hesitated, but only until he saw the quiet compassion in her expression. "This victim was just
twenty-five,"
he said abruptly. "She was pregnant. She was lying in the dirt, off the highway in tall grass. She
looked so alone, so vulnerable, so helpless, lying there nude except for a ripped blouse. She'd been
stabbed repeatedly and mutilated as if the person who did it hated her femininity. I wouldn't have told
her husband how bad it was, but the media reported every gory detail. He ended up being sedated in
the hospital."
Ignoring the certainty that she shouldn't touch him, involuntarily her fingers touched the strong hand
holding her hair. "You'll catch the guy who did it," she said firmly.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Guy?"
"She was found in a ditch, and the crime scene was ritualistic. Her hair was haloed around her head,
she was lying with her face up and her eyes open in a spread-eagled position. There was a handful of
dirt in her mouth.
Everyone in law enforcement said that it had all the earmarks of a vengeance killing, as if the killer
hated her.
Could it be a serial murder? Most serial killers are white men between the ages of twenty and thirty-
five, loners, they..."
"Good Lord!" he muttered. "How do you know that?"
"Cash has been keeping me posted and I've read all about the crime scene. I like to read about
profiling, too,"
she said. "And there are lots of these real-life detective shows on TV about how murders are solved.
Since I know somebody in the business of catching crooks, it doesn't hurt to know a little."
He laughed. "Not scared I'll come home in a box one night?"
Her fingers caressed his strong hand. "You can take care of yourself," she said softly. "You're quick-
witted, and you don't trust people." She sighed. "But I do say a lot of prayers when you're working on
a case like this."
He smiled tenderly at her. "That's nice."
She wrinkled her nose. "Just don't get shot, okay? Or if you do, get shot just a little."
"I'll do my best," he promised.
She searched his black eyes slowly. "My quality of life would diminish without you. Even if you
marry some hotshot international model."
Both eyebrows went up. "Marry?"
"Right. Dirty word." She removed her fingers. "God forbid you should ever put on a ring that isn't [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]