Chapter Six
Meredith noticed a shift in Wade as they drove down the country road.
After he’d almost made her pee with laughter, he’d been pensive.
Maybe he regretted partnering with her. Maybe he wished he was with Stacy, getting showered with fawning looks and suggestive comments.
He hadn’t seemed surprised by Stacy’s silly behavior.
He’d barely reacted to her flirting, as if he’d grown accustomed to women falling all over him.
Meredith wondered how often it happened.
She studied him from beneath lowered lashes.
He’d changed into a khaki uniform shirt that should have looked drab but didn’t.
The tailored fit accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist. He wore a bone-colored Cattleman instead of his usual Stetson.
With the gun belt and badge, he reminded her of a movie-star cop.
He would turn heads wherever he went. She remembered how he’d looked earlier this morning, shirtless and rumpled.
She’d tried not to stare at his bare chest over breakfast. He was lean and taut and perfectly muscled, with a smattering of hair on his flat stomach.
“Do all women throw themselves at you?” she asked.
“No.”
“Just most of them?”
He shrugged, noncommittal.
“Does it bother you?”
“What?”
“The attention.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Why would it bother me? I don’t care if women act stupid around you.”
“I meant attention from the opposite sex. Are you uncomfortable when men stare at you?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, as if he’d suspected as much. “It’s different with women. Nonthreatening.”
“Because they don’t cross the line?”
“Not really. Most women are polite and respect your boundaries. Every once in a while, a lady goes overboard.”
“Oh?”
“Just last night, I was subject to a random groping.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That was an accident.”
“Was it?”
“You know it was!”
He arched a skeptical brow. “I can see how a hand can end up in the wrong place. But the squeeze? Come on.”
Her cheeks flamed at the memory. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“If you say so.”
“It was a reflex.”
“It was a grope.”
“I couldn’t help it!”
He drummed his fingertips against the steering wheel. “The thing is, I have some experience with accidental contact. I was a starting quarterback throughout high school and college. There’s this football play called the quarterback sneak.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you familiar with it?”
“What’s your point, Wade?”
“My point is that I’ve been at the bottom of the scrum more times than I can count. I’ve had linemen’s hands in places I don’t want to think about. I’ve wrestled for the ball and accidentally grabbed a lot of different body parts. But never, have I ever, felt the urge to squeeze.”
“That’s apples to oranges,” she said.
“Yeah? Do you have a better comparison?”
“What if our positions were reversed, and you fell on top of me?”
His gaze raked her figure in appreciation. “I guess you’re right. If my hands landed anywhere soft, I’d be tempted to squeeze.”
She turned her face toward the window, flustered by his words. He knew she’d touched him on accident. He was teasing her, trying to goad her into admitting she wanted him. She supposed she deserved it for starting this stupid conversation. She vowed to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the day.
He parked by the side of the road in a remote area known as Riverbend. Meredith studied the first house on the list with trepidation. A path of destruction had torn through the center, but most of the brick exterior was intact.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Just stand by and follow my lead,” he said.
She listened carefully as he spoke to the homeowner.
He jotted notes on the clipboard about family members, conditions inside the dwelling and various needs.
By the time he finished, she had the script memorized.
The next house had Spanish-speaking occupants.
The process was the same. She didn’t understand any of it, but Wade seemed comfortable with the language.
They continued past another house that was completely undamaged. Meredith marveled at the strange luck.
Wade’s phone rang as they continued on foot. He paused in the shade of an oak tree to answer it.
“No, I’m fine,” he said. “How are you doing?” Whatever was said on the other end gave him pause. He turned away from Meredith so she couldn’t see his face. “That’s great, Natalie. Congratulations.”
After a few more words, he hung up and put his phone away.
“Good news?” she asked.
He shook his head wryly, and she wondered if he’d been speaking to an ex-girlfriend. He had a forlorn look in his eyes. She was surprised by the pang of sympathy she felt. Handsome men could experience heartbreak, just like everyone else. Poor Wade Hendricks, adored by women, unlucky in love.
“I’ll take this one,” she said, gesturing to the next house.
It had sustained minimal damage.
“Do you want the checklist?”
She declined the offer, strode up to the front door, and knocked. She repeated Wade’s questions by rote. He did the paperwork, wearing a bemused expression. They finished quickly and moved on.
“You have a good memory,” he said.
“I remember what I hear.”
“Everything? Word for word?”
“Not everything, and it doesn’t stay in my brain forever. I have to focus.”
“Do you understand Spanish?”
“No.”
“So, you only heard it once.”
She nodded.
He arched a brow, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. The day was warm, and his attention made her self-conscious. She didn’t tell him she’d developed this skill because of her inability to read fluently.
The final house on the list appeared to have been falling down before the tornado hit. It was the faded gray color of sun-bleached wood that had been painted white once upon a time. There were boarded-up windows on the upper floor. The porch railing hung askew.
“Watch your step,” Wade advised, taking her elbow.
The front steps were intact and the porch itself felt solid. The screen door was closed. Meredith rapped her knuckles on it. No one came to the door.
Wade referred to his clipboard. “Cordelia Pickett, age eighty-eight.”
“Miss Cordelia?” Meredith called out. “Are you home?”
A faint voice floated from the depths, too far away to hear. Wade raised his voice to identify himself and warn her that they were coming in for a wellness check. When they didn’t get a response, he opened the screen door. He entered carefully, speaking in a calm tone. Meredith followed him inside.
Cordelia Pickett was sitting on the living room couch.
She was small and frail, with sparse gray hair fashioned in a style that resembled a bird’s nest. There was a walker nearby, and she held a cane, but she didn’t attempt to rise.
The room smelled of cat urine. Wade introduced them again.
Cordelia seemed confused, and uncertain what to do.
“I’m thirsty,” she said to Meredith. “I haven’t had my grapefruit juice today.”
Meredith reached into her pack for a bottle of water. She unscrewed the cap and gave it to the lady.
“Thank you, dear.”
When Cordelia was hydrated, she studied Wade with renewed interest. “What did you say your name was?”
“Deputy Sheriff Wade Hendricks.”
“Sit down. I can’t see you all the way up there.”
He sat dutifully beside her. She reached up with shaking hands to touch his face. Meredith realized the urine smell wasn’t just from cats.
“Cameron,” Cordelia said. “You came home.”
Wade took her hands away from his face gently. “We’re going to get you some help.”
“Does Rita know you’re here?”
“Rita?”
“Your mother.”
Meredith crossed the room to open a window. She wanted to let some air and light into this poor woman’s house.
“I’m Deputy Sheriff Wade Hendricks,” he said to Cordelia, setting her hands in her lap. “I’m going to call a medical team to evaluate you.”
“My grandson is alive,” Cordelia said. “It’s a miracle.”
Wade patted her hand and stood. He got on his police radio and requested an ambulance for nonemergency transport. Meredith didn’t bother to recite the script. The old lady lived alone and probably hadn’t been on her feet since the tornado hit. She was very confused.
“I need to call Rita,” Cordelia said. “Can you bring me the phone?”
The phone lines were down, so Wade offered his cell phone, but Cordelia couldn’t remember the number.
Meredith helped Cordelia search through her purse, which was full of receipts and scraps of paper. Her wallet had credit cards and medical insurance cards, but no phone numbers. Cordelia asked for her address book, but Meredith couldn’t find that, either.
“Oh, dear,” Cordelia said. “I just remembered.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell Rita anything. She passed on already.”
“I’m so sorry,” Meredith said.
“Who can I call? I need that address book. It has all my numbers.”
Wade made a gesture in the background, cutting his hand across his throat.
Meredith understood that she should stop trying to find things for Cordelia, because it was upsetting her.
Instead, she offered the old lady another drink of water and listened to her fret.
Cordelia continued to insist that Wade was her long-lost grandson.
Meredith thought of her own grandmother, who’d died last year. Meredith hadn’t attended the funeral. She wouldn’t be surprised if Tripp had one of his goons watching the farm. She couldn’t go home without putting her family in danger.
The ambulance arrived thirty minutes later. Meredith stepped outside with Wade, glad for the fresh air and sunshine. She shook off the memories of her nightmarish marriage and focused on the present.
“Well,” she said. “That was awful.”
Wade smiled at her honesty. “You get used to it.”