once been married to Uncle Jeff’s brother, so the older man was sort of a stepuncle—had always treated him and his sister, Krista, as if they were his own flesh and blood, the same as Jeremy, a nephew who was also an orphan and their stepcousin. Uncle Jeff was a good listener.
Tony needed some advice on his own confusing reactions to the suspect. The fact that he halfway believed her story probably meant he was ready for the loony bin.
Strangest of all, he regretted that she would have to spend the weekend in jail and wondered if he should call the D.A. and judge at home to see what they thought should be done with her.
Man, what was he thinking? After what she did to him, she didn’t deserve any special treatment. No way.
He selected a can of soup and made a ham sandwich, then settled in front of the television to catch the news while he ate the solitary meal. With the summer help gone from the barracks and the information office closed, he had the place to himself.
The world news didn’t distract his thoughts from the prisoner, he found. It was probably scary to be locked in jail. Especially if she was as innocent as she proclaimed.
Not that he was considering taking her side. He wasn’t that gullible to her charms, although she’d felt pretty good nestled against him. As if she belonged there.
Shaking his head at the fantasy, he finished the meal and cut a huge slice from a chocolate cake he’d bought at the grocery that morning. It seemed an age since he’d blithely gotten up, done the shopping and gone down to open the souvenir store at nine o’clock.
And arrested one of the most fascinating suspects he’d ever met after a tussle that lingered in his mind with as much stubborn determination as she’d displayed in her attempts to escape.
Taking the last bite of cake, he savored the chocolate flavor, then wondered if prisoners got dessert.
Twenty minutes later, after a change of clothing, Tony pulled up in front of the state patrol building. He was still arguing with himself about the wisdom of being here when he went inside. He’d decided to use the treat to soften up the suspect and get some info out of her about her contacts with the gang of thieves looting the Chaco sites, assuming there was a gang and the thefts over the past year were related.
“I, uh, brought the nurse something,” he said to the sergeant at the desk. It wasn’t the same one as earlier in the day.
“What nurse?”
“The suspect I brought in this afternoon. I figured she might need some nourishment after having dinner in here.”
“Hey, we have the meals catered,” the night-duty officer declared.
“Yeah, right.”
After a chuckle, the man said, “I’ll have to check what’s in the bag.”
Tony waited, feeling more and more foolish as the cop opened the bag, examined a plastic fork, then the napkin and removed the top from the plastic bowl. “Man, that looks good,” he said.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring any extra,” Tony told the sarge with a sardonic smile. “Got any fresh coffee?”
“Yeah, I made a pot when I came on duty less than an hour ago. Want me to bring you some?”
“That would be great.”
The officer repacked the treat. “I’ll buzz you in. She’s in cell number one.”
The television set mounted on the wall outside the cell was turned on, but Julianne wasn’t listening to the news. She was still wound up from the ordeal with the police.
In spite of being dead tired, she couldn’t get into the mood to sleep. If she’d been at home, she would have tried aromatherapy. Lavender was supposed to be soothing when steeped in hot water. Chamomile tea was a sleep aid, but she doubted the jailer had any on hand.
A loud buzz startled her. The door to the cell block opened and a man walked in. Her heart knotted up in alarm, then relaxed as she realized who he was.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered. She rose from the hard bunk. Glaring between the bars on the door, she demanded, “What are you doing here?”
Her nemesis from the tourist shop stopped in front of her. “I brought you a present.”
He held out a brown paper bag. She eyed it as if it might explode any second.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s cake.”
“Cake,” she repeated suspiciously.
He gave her a quick but thorough perusal as he slipped the bag between the bars. “It’s safe,” he added with an ironic grin before grimacing and touching his swollen nose.
Twin bruises under his eyes gave him the masked look of a raccoon. She frowned at the pang of guilt that assailed her and reminded herself she’d acted in self-defense.
“Look,” he said, “I felt kind of bad about the hassle we had earlier, I thought about the jail food, so I, uh, brought you some dessert. Chocolate cake.”
She took the treat and sat on the cot. “You’re weird,” she told him. “I know it’s a slow night since there’s no one else in jail, but I’d have thought you could find something more interesting to do on a Saturday evening than hang out at the jail.”
He snorted. “You’re in the women’s cell block. There are several inmates in the men’s section.” He glanced at the two empty cells. “I guess they don’t get many woman criminals around here.”
She ignored the anger that demanded she refute his calling her a criminal. Instead, she gave him a fulminating glance, then opened the brown bag and removed the container.
The fury receded somewhat when she saw the contents. Chocolate was one of her favorite things. She wisely decided not to throw the cake in his face.
When the night-duty officer brought in two cups of coffee, she accepted one of those, too, and thanked the man. Taking a bite of the dessert, she closed her eyes, savoring the rich flavor.
“I have a question,” her captor said, pulling a chair closer to the bars and taking a seat. “Who taught you how to take defensive action?”
For a second she remembered being ten and coming home from school, excited because she’d gotten a perfect score on her math test, then going into the house and finding her mother.
It wasn’t until she’d been in nurses’ training and a rape victim had been brought into the emergency room during her rotation there that she’d realized what her mother must have gone through that terrible afternoon.
Julianne locked the memory away as ancient pain careened around her chest, but it was still a moment before she could speak. “My father sent me and my two brothers to self-defense classes while we were growing up.”
She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he considered the information. Earlier in the day, when she’d given her personal information, she’d reported her father as her next of kin and her mother as deceased.
“Was
