Dangerous by Diana Palmer Page A

more personal to pursue during his leave of absence. All he needed were the tools to solve it. One of them was Winnie Sinclair. And he was going to get her to help him. No matter what he had to do—even if it meant using her own feelings for him in the process. The only thing that mattered was bringing his daughter’s killer to justice any way he could.
    He could still see her, the last day of her little life. She’d started toward the car where her mother was waiting impatiently to take her to day care. But she’d turned suddenly. She ran back to Kilraven with her black hair flying, laughing, her arms outstretched. He’d picked her up, swung her around and kissed her.

    “I love you, Daddy,” she’d whispered, and kissed him back. “Always remember.”
    He could barely see the road for the film in his eyes. “Always remember.” They were the most painful words of all now because he remembered what had happened just a few hours later. He would never see those black eyes sparkle, or hear that musical little laugh, or open his arms for Melly to run into. He drew in a harsh breath and swallowed down the hard lump in his throat. His hands went white where they gripped the steering wheel. Three years old, and some heartless intruder had killed her. Somehow, he swore, someday, someone was going to pay the price for that murder. And he was going to make it happen. He didn’t care if it cost him his job, or even his life. The killer was going to be brought to justice.

6
    Winnie was having a quick lunch at Barbara’s Café on her way home from work. She’d been on a split shift, working five hours of her ten-hour shift before midnight and going back in at 3:00 a.m. to pick up the rest of it. The EOC was organized so that each operator worked a ten-hour shift, and because someone was arriving as someone else was leaving, there was overlap. It allowed the incoming operators to know what was going on and saved long explanations of existing or developing situations.
    She loved her job. There were times when she was so stressed that she had to take breaks in the EOC “quiet room,” a place set aside for people who needed a brief moment of solitude after hectic periods of time to come down off the ceiling. It was a high-pressure job, with lives in the balance. The training had been intensive, but after her internship she felt capable of handling most any situation that arose. And if she needed help, it was all around her. These dedicated, good-hearted people made her proud to be a part of their group.
    “You look worn out,” Barbara mentioned as she put a plate of salad and a grilled cheese sandwich in front of Winnie, along with a cup of hot coffee. Winnie put cream and sugar in the coffee, something she only did when she had grilled cheese.
    “Bad night,” she replied with a wan smile. “I worked a split shift to accommodate one of our other operators who had a death in the family. It was hectic. Much more than usual.”
    Barbara sat down with her for a minute. “The Tate boy?” she asked gently.
    Winnie hesitated, and then nodded. It was useless to deny her involvement. In Jacobsville, everybody knew what was going on. Besides, it would be in the newspaper the next day. Operators never talked about incidents at work otherwise. “Tragic,” she said heavily. “His poor mother.”
    “She has friends. She’ll cope.”
    “Yes, but it was so senseless,” Winnie said.
    Barbara put a gentle hand on hers. “Nothing is really senseless. Sometimes we just don’t understand the reasons things happen. Like Rick getting beat up.” She shook her head. “Thank God he has such a hard head.”
    Winnie nodded. “He was lucky. But this boy was only fifteen years old,” Winnie said. “He thought it would be funny to steal a car and go for a joyride. He allegedly ran over a ten-year-old child and crippled her for life, and then couldn’t avoid a power pole and killed himself.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand