Chapter Eight #2
“You don’t have to face this alone anymore,” Dusty continued, his voice a rough whisper. “Let us help you.”
As she looked into his eyes, Sharon felt the walls she’d built start to crumble. It had been so long since she’d trusted anyone, depended on anyone. The hidden evidence was both her salvation and her curse—proof of Cooper’s crimes, but also the reason she couldn’t stop running.
“Sharon!” Daisy’s voice called from the living room. “Come see! We found the perfect spot for the star!”
Dusty’s hand slid down to take hers, strong and steady. “What do you say? Ready to experience a Shiloh Springs Christmas?”
Standing in the kitchen, surrounded by the aroma of Ms. Patti’s cooking and the sounds of laughter from the other room, Sharon made a decision. Maybe, just for tonight, she could pretend she belonged.
“Okay,” she said, squeezing Dusty’s hand. “But tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow will take care of itself,” he interrupted gently. “Tonight is for frosting cookies and hanging ornaments. And remembering there’s still good in the world worth fighting for.”
As he led her toward the living room and the waiting tree, Sharon wondered if perhaps she’d found something in this small Texas town she hadn’t even known she was looking for—not just safety, but a reason to stop running.
Dusty watched from the doorway as Sharon laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
The youngest Boudreau granddaughter, Jamie, was attempting to hang an ornament on a delicate branch, while her mother gave advice.
Jamie spun around, hands on her hips, looking like a miniature version of Beth, and everyone laughed.
The Christmas tree, which the Boudreau family had dragged in earlier that afternoon, filled the small living room with the scent of pine, mixing with the savory scent of the lasagna in the oven.
Sharon looked different tonight—relaxed, the tension momentarily gone from her shoulders.
It struck Dusty how quickly she’d adapted to this small Texas town.
It had to be day and night difference from the Chicago high-rises she’d left behind.
The colorful lights from the tree reflected in the windows and she smiled, her eyes shining with a warmth he hadn’t seen before.
Glancing across the living room, he caught Antonio’s eye and gave him a subtle nod toward the back door.
They needed to talk, away from curious ears.
Once Antonio headed toward the kitchen, Dusty turned and stepped out through the back door.
The damp December air hit his face as he stepped onto the small back porch.
Night had fallen early, as it did this time of year, and the small backyard behind Sharon’s borrowed cottage seemed quiet and dark, the only light coming from the single bulb beside the back door.
Within moments, Antonio stepped through, his expression solemn.
“Tell me you’ve got something,” Dusty said quietly, not wanting their voices to carry back inside. “After that run-in at the diner today, I know Madison isn’t backing down.”
Antonio’s face was half-shadowed in the light spilling from the porch fixture.
A bit of light peeked through the kitchen window.
“My contact at the Chicago field office called. Madison’s gone dark—holed up in his Lake Forest estate.
Hasn’t been seen at the office or any of his usual haunts.
Canceled meetings, charity appearances, everything.
And nobody at Kerrigan’s office building is talking.
It’s like Madison or Kerrigan have issued a gag order to the whole company. Definitely gives rise to questions.”
Dusty frowned, his gut tightening. In his years of law enforcement, he’d learned that when powerful men like Madison started behaving erratically, trouble wasn’t far behind. “That doesn’t sound like someone who’s giving up,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“It doesn’t,” Antonio agreed. “Unofficially, the Bureau’s actively looking for Sharon now. The VP’s murder has everyone scrambling.”
Dusty felt a spike of alarm. “Do they think she did it?”
Antonio shook his head slightly. “Off the record? No one who’s working on the case believes she pulled the trigger. But her prints were on some incriminating documents, there’s a witness who swears Sharon pulled the trigger, and running isn’t helping her case.”
“What did you tell them?” Dusty asked, suddenly worried about how much his friend might have revealed.
“Nothing,” Antonio said firmly. “I made a promise to Sharon. I didn’t confirm or deny knowing her whereabouts. But Dusty,” he leaned closer, “the longer she stays hidden, the worse it looks.”
Dusty glanced through the window, catching sight of Sharon laughing at something Douglas said.
She held up two ornaments, glancing between them, before handing a red glass ball to Jamie.
Something tightened in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since before his engagement imploded three years ago.
He’d thought his heart was broken when Karen decided she wanted to move to New York and had begged him to go with her.
It would never have worked out; Dusty had already done the big city life and wanted to stay in Shiloh Springs.
To stay with the sheriff’s department, and the life he’d built here.
“Keep me in the loop,” he told Antonio. “I need to protect her.”
Antonio’s eyes narrowed slightly, although the corner of his lips curved. “Is that the only reason?”
Dusty hesitated, then admitted what he’d barely acknowledged to himself. “I’m drawn to her, Antonio. I can’t explain it. From the moment I found her stranded at the side of the road…” he trailed off, not having the right words. “I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”
“Be careful, brother,” Antonio warned. “She’s carrying dangerous baggage.”
“I know. But my instincts tell me she’s not running because she’s done something wrong. Call it a cop’s instinct, but I don’t think she killed anybody. She might not be completely innocent, but I’d swear she hasn’t done anything wrong. The only reason she’s running is because of Madison.”
The back door creaked open, spilling more light onto the porch. Ms. Patti’s head appeared, her blonde hair catching the kitchen light. “You boys planning to stand out in the cold all night? These cookies aren’t going to frost themselves!”
Dusty smiled despite his concerns. “We’re coming, Ms. Patti.”
As they headed back inside, he caught Sharon’s eye across the room. She tilted her head slightly, a silent question in her gaze. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring nod, though the weight of what he’d learned sat heavily on his shoulders.
The Christmas tree lights twinkled, casting colorful shadows across her face.
For now, she was safe, surrounded by the warmth of holiday traditions and the boisterous Boudreau family.
But Dusty couldn’t shake the feeling that this peaceful scene was merely temporary, the calm before a storm.
Madison was getting desperate, and desperate men were dangerous.
He made his way across the room, accepting a mug of hot chocolate from Ms. Patti.
As he settled into the chair next to Sharon, their shoulders almost touching, Dusty made a silent promise to himself.
Whatever storm was coming, he wouldn’t let it touch her.
Not on his watch. Not at Christmas. Not ever.