Dangerous by Diana Palmer Page B

anything.”
    “That’s what I mean,” Barbara said. “I don’t think we’re meant to understand, sometimes.” She looked up. “You need cheering up.”

    “That would take more than a salad and coffee, I’m afraid.”
    “How about something six feet tall and very good-looking?”
    “Hmm?”
    “How about bringing me what she’s having?” Kilraven asked as he pulled up a chair and sat down beside Winnie, whose heart leaped up into her throat even as tired as she was. “Except I want my coffee black.”
    Barbara smiled. “Coming up.”
    She left and Kilraven gave Winnie a bold appraisal. She was wearing a pair of dark slacks with a blue polo shirt, her blond hair in a neat braid. She looked very young, tired and disillusioned.
    “I heard,” Kilraven said.
    She met his silver eyes. He was wearing slacks and a black polo shirt with a wool jacket. He looked expensive and worldly out of uniform. She managed a smile. “We’re all still reeling. Up until the ambulances got there, we had hope.”
    “You did everything possible. It was a good effort.”
    “We did everything possible and he still died.”
    “That’s not your call,” he replied quietly. “People die. We all do, eventually.”
    She managed a weary smile. “So they say.”
    Barbara came back with his salad and sandwich and coffee. “You have to learn not to take things so much to heart, baby,” she told Winnie gently.
    The endearment was comforting. Winnie sighed. “I do try.”
    “It’s no bad thing to have a heart,” Kilraven interjected.
    “Yes, it is,” Winnie murmured. She drew in a long breath and pushed back her plate. “It’s very good, Barbara, I’m just sleepy and worn out. I almost went straight home, but I haven’t had anything since supper early yesterday evening.”
    “You have a canteen at the EOC,” Kilraven pointed out.
    “Yes, but in order to eat, you have to have time to eat,” she reminded him. “That wasn’t the only emergency we had. It was the busiest night we’ve had this month.”
    “It was a full moon,” Kilraven said as he dug into his salad.
    “It was,” Barbara exclaimed. “But what does that have to do with it?”
    “Beats me,” he said. “But it really does bring out the worst in some people.”
    Barbara just shook her head. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

    I T WAS AN INDICATION of how depressed Winnie was that she wasn’t dropping utensils or spilling coffee from nervousness at Kilraven’s unexpected company. She sipped coffee and stared at her discarded salad blankly.
    After a minute, she glanced at him and frowned. “What are you doing down here?” she asked suddenly. “We heard you were in San Antonio, working with detectives to find connections to our DB in the Little Carmichael River.”
    “I was, and I have,” he said. “I need a favor.”
    Her heard did jump, then. “What?”
    “Not now. Finish your coffee and we’ll take a ride.”
    She glanced around at the lunch crowd. They were eating and shooting covert glances at Winnie and Kilraven.
    “If I go for a ride with you, we’ll be the talk of the town all weekend,” she said.

    He chuckled. “I don’t care.” He looked into her dark eyes. “Do you?”
    She shrugged. “I guess not.”
    “While they’re talking about us, they’re leaving somebody else alone,” he pointed out.
    “I suppose.” She finished her coffee. “Do you think it’s going to tie into your own cold case?” she asked abruptly.
    His face tautened. “I think it may. We’ve got a lead. It’s a small one, but it may pay dividends down the road. Before this is over, some big-time feathers are going to get ruffled.”
    She cocked her head. “Now, I’m curious.”
    “Good. Let’s go.” He swallowed the rest of his coffee and picked up her lunch tab, despite her protests, as well as his own. Then he shepherded her out the door and toward a black late-model Jaguar sports car.
    She was taken aback. Used to seeing him in a