The Cowboy Lawman

“What about Butch’s wife? Does she know?”

“They’re going to tell her.” He considered letting it go, but he couldn’t. “Mia, it would be best if you went and stayed with your folks for a while. At least until they find a way to bring this guy down.”

“That could take a year. It could take two years. I’m not going to live in fear of him, Slade. I’m staying right here in my house. I’m not going to let him win.”

She turned and poured coffee into a thermal mug. She handed it to him.

“Thanks.” Coffee. It made it seem as if nothing had happened, they weren’t talking life and death. They were friends catching up on the news.

“You’re welcome.”

“And you know I’m going to be out here on patrol. Wherever that money is that went missing, someone is going to be looking for it.”

“You’re going to be watching my house? Please don’t. I’ll feel compelled to feed you and you know I can only cook enchiladas and boxed hamburger meals.” She looked down at her arm. “And I can’t even cook those right now.”

“Maybe I can cook for you.” The words slipped out and hung between them.

“Slade...”

He raised a hand to stop her objections. “Friends, Mia, that’s what we’ve always been.”

She gave him a curt nod. “Be safe out there, Slade.”

“I’m always safe.”

She walked with him to the front door. “Yes, I know you are. But I thought we were safe, too. I thought Butch and I would have each other’s backs. I thought we’d always be able to save each other.”

“You couldn’t have known that you’d been made.”

“I know.” She stood in the front door as he got ready to leave. “Slade, what if I should have known? I keep going over it again and again in my mind, wondering if I saw something that should have given it away.”

“Don’t. I know that it’s easy to second-guess, but it won’t change anything.”

Slade had done it, too. He’d thought about it over and over, if he should have known what would happen that night to Vicki. He couldn’t have known. He’d never seen it coming. But for a couple of years he’d beaten himself up, thinking he should have told her not to drive that night. He should have known there were storms coming.

He should have done something.

For a long minute he stood on Mia’s front porch, thinking back. Yes, he knew how Mia felt. He knew the questions she’d been asking herself since the shooting. It took him by surprise when Mia leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“It was an accident.”

He touched her arm and smiled down at her. “I know. And I’m asking you to be careful.”

“I will.”

“Will you be in church Sunday?”

She sighed and shook her head. “So I can yell at God in public? No, I think yelling at Him on the side of the road is enough for one week.”

He nodded, because he got it. “If you need anything, call me.”

“I’m sure you won’t be far away.”

“No, I won’t.”

He walked down the sidewalk to his car, pulling the keys out of his pocket as he went. He glanced back one last time before getting behind the wheel. Mia still stood in the doorway. She wouldn’t cry again. He knew Mia. She would walk it off. Or jog it off. And unless people who cared pushed, she wouldn’t talk about how much it hurt.

Her family would do that for her. They would push her to talk. And he’d patrol and make sure she stayed safe.

Chapter Two

By Saturday Mia was going stir-crazy. She needed to get out of the house. She needed information and no one had it. And she had definitely tried to get it. She’d called the DEA field office in Tulsa asking questions. Her supervisor had eventually called her back and told her to put her energy into getting better—he’d be the one finding out how Nolan Jacobs had gotten away with murdering one of their agents. Maybe Jacobs hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he’d been there. The order to kill had come from him.

She sat at the kitchen table, her laptop in front of her, her cell phone on vibrate. Who had sold them out? She started with a list of people who had been in on their assignment, one that had kept her on the outskirts of Oklahoma City for months when she would have preferred to be anywhere else.

They had lived in a roach-infested apartment, she and Butch. One bedroom, but he’d slept on the couch while they pretended to be husband and wife, small-time dealers wanting in on the big-time. When she left that apartment she’d left behind the clothes, the shoes, the makeup that Maria Vargas, her other identity, had worn.

Maria would have made Mia’s mom, Angie Cooper, blush. Maria had made Mia blush a few times. She shook her head, remembering the role she’d played. While in character, she’d looked for family who had lived in Oklahoma City. She’d searched bars and parties for a man who might have been her father. A man with no name but perhaps a tattoo with her mother’s name, or even hers.

She’d looked for Breezy and hoped, of all the people she searched for, she wouldn’t see her little sister in the crowd, thin from using, near death. She’d never spotted her sibling.

Without really thinking, she went online and put in the last known name of her little sister. Breezy Hernandez. They’d all had different fathers; Mia Jimenez, Juan Lopez and Breezy Hernandez. Juan was in jail for armed robbery and distribution of a controlled substance.

Breezy was the mystery. They’d given her to her paternal grandmother. Angie had learned that much all those years ago. But where they’d gone to—that was the big question. Breezy had disappeared.

The clock in the living room chimed the noon hour. Mia looked at the web page she’d brought up. More dead ends. She closed down her computer and walked to the fridge, to stare again at contents that did nothing for her. She hadn’t been hungry in forever.

Because of the burning question: Who had ratted them out? Who had given away information on other law enforcement officers? Who had taken the money and how had they framed Butch?

She closed the fridge and walked through the house. At the front door, she slipped her feet into flip-flops and shoved money into her pocket. If she didn’t have anything good for lunch, Vera at the Mad Cow Café would.

A patrol car eased past her house as she walked out the door. They had all the tact and finesse of boys cruising around on Friday night. Everyone knew what they were up to. And anyone watching Mia would know that the deputies cruised past her house every hour or so. But they cared. They were trying to protect her. In Tulsa they were doing the same for Butch’s wife, Tina.

If Nolan came after her, though, he’d know their routine. He’d know their cars. He’d catch her when everyone least expected it.

September air, cool and filled with the scent of drying grass and flowers, greeted her as she walked down the steps of her front porch. The fresh air pulled her back to the present and out of the dark thoughts that had plagued her all morning.

She waved at Mrs. Lucas across the street, one of the few neighbors on this end of Dawson Avenue. Avenue was a little overstated. The road led from the feed store to nowhere. There were a total of five houses, most with land. Mr. Gordon raised a few calves. Taylor Green raised sheep. Mrs. Lucas seemed to raise cats, and lots of them.

The cats could usually be found sunning themselves on her porch, and sometimes they moved across the street to Mia’s. Mia had never been fond of cats. But she did like Mrs. Lucas, so she didn’t complain. As long as the cats didn’t bother the birds Mia fed.

It was a short, five-minute walk to the Mad Cow. Mia took it easy, having learned her lesson from her jogging adventure a few days ago. Her arm had ached all night after that little escapade. She’d called her doctor and he’d lectured her about the damage she could have done. Lesson learned.

The parking lot of the Mad Cow was packed with farm trucks, cars and even a couple of tractors.

Mia walked up the sidewalk of the black-and-white-spotted building and someone opened the front door. She smiled at one of the local farmers and he pushed the door wide for her to enter.

“Mia Cooper, been a long time since you was in town. How’s that arm doing?” The farmer, Ben, toothpick in the corner of his mouth, smiled and let the door close with both of them inside.