Anything but Mine by Linda Winfree

with disgust. “You can’t agree with this. Oh hell, maybe you can. He was in your damn department—”
    “Mr. Ingler, I understand you’re upset.” Firm authority laced Stanton’s tone. “But the system has to be allowed to work and Ms. Holton is only doing her job. Your harassing her about that is not going to help.”
    “Harassing her.” Beau’s laugh was an ugly thing and Autry cringed. “She’s helping him get away with murder and you’re worried I’m harassing her.”
    “Mr. Ingler, I’m asking you to leave.” Stanton didn’t move, but his posture remained alert. “Jeff Schaefer will pay for what he did. Let the system work.”
    “Yeah, sure. Wish I could say it was good to see you again, Autry.” With one last disgusted look, Beau brushed by Stanton. His footsteps thudded on the backstairs.
    Stanton moved into the office. “Are you all right?”
    She nodded and clenched her hands to stop their shaking. “Yes, I’m just…”
    To her absolute horror, she burst into tears. Sudden sobs tore at her throat and she buried her face in her hands. Residual fear trembled in her.
    Strong arms came around her, pulled her close to an equally strong chest.
    “Go ahead,” he whispered, stroking her back. “Let it out.”
    She folded her hands into the soft cotton of his shirt. Her face against his throat, she cried harder. How was she supposed to function, never knowing who was threatening her, where he might be, what he might do next?
    Stanton held her tighter. “It’s all right, baby,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen. I promise.”
    “L-look how easily he…he got up here.” She lifted her head, rubbing at her hot, wet cheeks. “Stanton, wh-what if he was the one? Anything could have happened and—”
    “But it didn’t.” He cupped her head in his hands, brushing tears from her face with his thumbs. His eyes intense, he held her gaze with his. “And it’s not going to, because I won’t let it. I mean it, honey, I won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear.”
    She pulled away, immediately feeling the loss of him, and pushed her hair back from her face. “You can’t be with me twenty-four-seven.”
    He hooked his thumbs in his belt and studied her. “Why don’t we make the working out of my office thing permanent, at least until we make an arrest. You can forward your calls—”
    “I don’t know. I can’t make that decision right now, okay?” She took a deep breath. If she gave him an inch, anything more than this one decision about where she was to work this afternoon, he’d take over completely. The scary part was right now she wanted to let him. “I have to get through today first.”
    “All right.” He nodded toward her desk. “Ready to go?”
    She rounded the desk to close her briefcase. “I’m ready.”
    He took the case from her and escorted her downstairs, across the street and into the sheriff’s department. The whole way, Autry’s skin prickled as unwanted thoughts about unseen watchers followed her.

    Stanton parked the unmarked unit behind Tick’s dusty pickup. As he walked up the brick path to the back porch, a breeze tossed a few stray pine needles down from the swaying trees. With Autry firmly ensconced in his office, he felt better, although the incident with Beau Ingler left a lingering tension at his nape. He passed a hand over the stiff muscles there. Letting her go up to that office alone, even for a minute, had been the height of stupidity.
    He skirted a stack of two-by-fours, a sign of Tick’s constant renovating, to knock at the kitchen door. When he’d returned to the department, Lydia, with her usual unflappable aplomb, had handed him yet another pink message slip—this one from Tick, directing Stanton to pick him up at home.
    No reason as to why he’d gone home in the middle of the day. Stanton cast a glance at the driveway. Falconetti’s vehicle was nowhere in sight. He rapped at the doorjamb