yet outlining them at the same time. After the way he’d left her last night, he hadn’t expected she would voluntarily seek him out. His gut tightened and a knot of apprehension pressed on his chest.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m so not okay.” She looked at Phoebe.
“Jensen Stevens, this is one of my deputies, Phoebe Johnson.”
The redhead nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Jen’s polite smile was strained. “Same here.” She looked up at him. “Is there somewhere private we could have this conversation?”
He put his hand at the small of her back. “Let’s go in my office. Hold my calls unless someone’s bleeding or on fire,” he said to his deputy.
“You got it, boss.”
He guided Jen down the hall and felt her trembling. What in the world was wrong? They passed three offices. When they reached the fourth, he turned her inside and closed the door behind them. His gray metal desk was littered with files and scattered papers. The computer monitor was on, displaying data from an unsuccessful search he’d initiated just that morning into the background of Billy Bob Adams. Unfortunately he’d turned up nothing of any use, which was why he’d asked for Jack Riley’s help earlier at lunch. His old friend had been in the army—Special Forces. And a computer expert. Grady figured he could go places a small-town sheriff like himself couldn’t. Especially with equipment from the Stone Age—relatively speaking.
“Sit down, Jen,” he suggested, indicating one of the chairs in front of his desk. The metal frames with plastic-covered seats and backs didn’t invite visitors to stay long. But it was all he could offer.
“I don’t want to sit.”
“Suit yourself.” He took off his hat and placed it on the paperwork strewn across his desk. Then he rested a hip on the corner and folded his arms over his chest. “What can I do for you?”
Her eyes darkened to a shade of hunter green. “You can tell me what my dead husband’s brother has to do with you and your children.”
He felt as if he’d been sucker punched. “What are you talking about?”
“I hope nothing more than Destiny gossip.”
“You’re going to have to be a shade more specific.”
“Someone overheard you talking to Jack Riley at the Road Kill Café a little while ago.”
“Small-town communication system strikes again,” he said grimly. “What about it?”
“The rumor is that Billy Bob Adams is the one suing you for custody of the girls.”
He would feel less cornered if he’d been pinned down by the Hole in the Wall gang. A million things came to mind that he would rather do than have this conversation. With a little two-stepping and a bucket of grease maybe he could slide out of it. “And?”
“Is it true?”
“It’s hearsay, Jen. Not permitted in a court of law.”
“Don’t patronize me, Grady. I know what hearsay is. I also know something felt weird from the time you got those papers.”
“I’ve never been sued before. Of course I acted weird.”
She wasn’t going to let it drop. She was going to force him to tell her something that would rock her world. It was like drop-kicking a kitten, and he was going to hate himself forever for doing it to her.
“Don’t you dare put your cop face on.” She glared at him and tension starched every line and curve of her body. “Billy Bob is Zach’s brother. Only a blood relative would have a chance of success in a case like this or no lawyer worth his salt would waste time with it. I need the truth, Grady. I need to know what’s going on.”
He let out a long breath. “Okay. You want it straight?”
“That’s what I just said. Why would my dead husband’s brother sue for custody of your children?”
“Because he’s their uncle, Jen. Zach is the twins’ biological father.”
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