someone up there. I know there does.”
“Not now,” John said, sounding cynical. “They spotted tracks from an all-terrain vehicle. Looks like your prowler made his getaway on an ATV.”
“I didn’t hear anything like that, did you?”
“We probably wouldn’t have when we were both concentrating on your wild driving. Apparently, while you were going one way, your druggie friend was headed in the opposite direction. He could be miles away by now.”
“I certainly hope so,” Samantha said. She scooted into the truck on the driver’s side, then slid over to make room for John.
The grim look he shot in her direction was unsettling. Nervousness kept her talking. “What? You don’t want him to go away because you want to capture him? I get it, believe me. What I meant was I hope I never see him or his cronies again.”
“That’s not likely,” John warned. “As long as they think you took some kind of package from the Boland kid they’ll keep coming after it. And you.”
“What can I do? I told you, Bobby Joe didn’t give me a thing.”
“Is that the truth?”
She bristled. “Of course it is.”
John’s smile grew sardonic, as if he wanted to believe her but couldn’t quite manage it in spite of his earlier claim that she was a poor liar. She could sort of understand that point of view. Perhaps it was time for a more detailed explanation of her motives.
“I would have gotten around to telling you about what the purse snatcher said,” Samantha insisted. “Honest I would. I was just worried about Bobby getting in more trouble because of me. I know his whole family. He’s not a bad kid at heart.”
“He’s an addict who probably sells the stuff to innocent little kids to support his habit. Is that the way you want to take care of the children in Serenity?”
“Of course not. I was planning to talk to Bobby’s folks but I wanted to wait and see what the actual charges were before I said anything, that’s all. This whole drug-conspiracy idea might be nothing more than a big misunderstanding.”
“Even if it is, there’s still somebody out to get you, Sam. All the good intentions in the world won’t protect you from evil if you don’t use your head.”
“Humph. I thought you believed in God taking care of His own.”
“I do. But I also know He gave us brains and expects us to think with them. I may be a Christian but I still put bullets in my gun. It would be idiotic not to.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point.”
She settled back against the seat as John started the truck and headed up the hill toward the old farmhouse. He was right, of course. It made perfect sense to use the capabilities each of them had been given. That was what she was doing when she volunteered through CASA. And that was the same thing John had been doing when he’d put himself in place to protect her.
That action wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was merely what he did. Who he was at heart. He would have done the exact same thing for anyone he felt was in danger.
Her conclusion about not being special to him was so obviously correct, it hurt.
* * *
First out of the truck, John trusted the other officers to have done their jobs so he didn’t order Sam to stay put. His opinion seemed to have little effect on her and the way he saw it, the less he tried to control her unnecessarily, the less they’d butt heads.
It didn’t surprise him that she was at his elbow when Walter showed him the tire tracks. John crouched. “They’re from an ATV, all right. There are probably hundreds just like this in Fulton County. You got pictures?”
“Yep. Measurements, too.” The grizzled, older man’s attitude clearly showed a chip on his shoulder. John understood. He’d returned to his former hometown with a degree in law enforcement and big-city experience that Chief Kelso had bragged of as an asset when he’d reintroduced him to the men he’d be working with. Given the fact that they had remained local and he was now viewed as an outsider, it was normal for them to feel a little put out.
“I’m sure you did everything by the book,” John assured him. “How about footprints?”
“It’s pretty dry and dusty. Not much to see.”
“Okay. We’ll put the dog out and let you in.”
“House is locked. I already tried the door.”
“Right.” He looked to Samantha. “You’ll need to open the door for us.”
Eyes widening, she stared at the porch. “Oh, no. My keys are still in the car. So is my purse.”
“Okay.” John rolled his eyes and sighed noisily. “Wait here with Glenn and Walter. I’ll be right back with your stuff.”
There was no way he would have considered leaving her at the farmhouse if she hadn’t had the companionship of veteran officers. They might look and act like good old boys most of the time but they were both plenty sharp. Sam would be safe with them, at least for the few minutes it would take him to retrieve her keys.
John made the trip down the hill quickly and easily. Stopping next to Samantha’s car he left his truck idling and stepped out. Everything looked the same as it had earlier.
He leaned in and reached around the car’s steering column, expecting to find the keys dangling from the ignition. That slot was empty. So where were her keys? Had Sam dropped them when she’d bolted?
Scowling, he squinted at the floor mats, then probed the slashes in the messy seat, finally scanning the bare ground outside the car. No keys. No purse, either. There was nothing left in Sam’s car but a worn, leather-covered Bible.
John straightened and carefully studied his surroundings. Had there been time for whoever had left the house on the ATV to have circled around and cleaned out the car? Maybe. Maybe not. It hardly mattered how many thieves were involved at this point. Someone had stolen everything except Sam’s Bible, including the keys to her house.
If the criminals came back, and John was positive they would, they could simply unlock her doors and walk in. Not only was Samantha in worse danger than before, it was at least partially his fault.
* * *
Samantha could tell from John’s closed expression and stiff body language upon his return that all was not well. The moment she saw him climb out of his truck and start toward her carrying her Bible, she assumed that that was the only thing he’d managed to retrieve.
“My purse?” she asked, trying not to sound as if she were making any kind of accusation.
“No sign of it. This was all there was left in the car,” he said, handing her the Bible. “I’m sorry. I should have made sure you had all your things with you before we came up here. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“I wasn’t, either.” The unshed tears that misted her vision were unacceptable.
