don’t have a body. A missing persons report has been filed on Bratton, but there was a break-in and a car stolen. Again, we don’t have the evidence of the missing car, so I can’t really arrest you.”
Phoebe let go of the breath she’d been holding. “And my family? Will they be notified?”
“Only if you want me to let them know,” the sheriff said. “You’re a grown woman. You don’t have to tell your family anything.”
“No. I’d rather they didn’t learn where I am until I’m good and ready to let them know myself. Will any of my testimony be shared containing my name?”
“No, ma’am. Again, you haven’t been arrested, so you won’t go on the docket or be shared across departments.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Miss Sinclair, you’re free to go.”
Phoebe glanced around, looking for Nash. The deputy had excused him shortly after Phoebe had started relating her story. He hadn’t returned, nor had she left the sheriff’s office the entire time.
“Do you want me to have one of the deputies drive you home, Miss Sinclair?”
She shook her head, hoping Nash hadn’t left the building. “No, it isn’t too far to walk.”
“I’m concerned about what you said about the two men who chased you last night.” The sheriff tipped his head, a frown deepening the lines across his forehead. “I guess you’ll be okay in broad daylight. But you should keep your night forays to a minimum, or go out with a friend. No use tempting fate or the bad guys.”
Since she had a job working nights, staying inside at night was impossible. She had to get to and from work. Stiffening her spine, Phoebe held out her hand. “Thank you, Sheriff Olson. I’ll be careful.”
“You might consider letting your folks know you’re okay.” His big hand enveloped hers in a reassuring grip. “I keep thinking my daughter is about your age. I’d want to know she was safe.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “My father is very overbearing. I’d like to put off the confrontation a little longer.” At least until she was firmly on her own two feet and established in Hellfire. Then she’d let her father know she was okay and not coming home anytime soon.
She stepped out of the sheriff’s office, and Nash hooked her elbow and hustled her toward the exit. “You could have told me you were the daughter of Jonathon Sinclair, the richest man in Texas.”
Anger rolled off him like puffs of steam. Pulling her arm free of his grip, Phoebe lifted her chin and marched on her own toward the door. “I am not my father. I’m just Phoebe.”
“Well, Just Phoebe, your father has a statewide manhunt out for you, with a ten-thousand-dollar reward attached.” He pushed through the door and held it for her.
“So?” She stopped and faced him, crossing both arms over her chest. “Are you turning me in and collecting?”
“Hell, no.” Again, he gripped her arm and led her out into the parking lot. “I’m driving you back to your garage apartment and then going home. Today’s my day off.”
Irritation prickled her skin, and she stopped short of his truck. “Go home, Deputy Grayson. You aren’t responsible for me. I can get back to my apartment on my own.”
Scowling, he opened the passenger door of his truck and held it. “Get in.”
“I’ve had enough of taking orders from the men in my life. Screw you!” She stepped around him and the truck, and marched across the parking lot.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he yelled.
Without looking in his direction, she turned and headed the other direction.
A chuckle sounded behind her. “Still going the wrong way.” He caught up to her and gripped her arms. “I’m sorry. I don’t like being lied to, so sue me.”
For a long moment, she held her shoulders back and her chin up. Then she released the tension that had built inside since Lola woke her with the news that morning. “Deputy Grayson—”
“Nash,” he corrected.
“Nash.” She
Phoebe let go of the breath she’d been holding. “And my family? Will they be notified?”
“Only if you want me to let them know,” the sheriff said. “You’re a grown woman. You don’t have to tell your family anything.”
“No. I’d rather they didn’t learn where I am until I’m good and ready to let them know myself. Will any of my testimony be shared containing my name?”
“No, ma’am. Again, you haven’t been arrested, so you won’t go on the docket or be shared across departments.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Miss Sinclair, you’re free to go.”
Phoebe glanced around, looking for Nash. The deputy had excused him shortly after Phoebe had started relating her story. He hadn’t returned, nor had she left the sheriff’s office the entire time.
“Do you want me to have one of the deputies drive you home, Miss Sinclair?”
She shook her head, hoping Nash hadn’t left the building. “No, it isn’t too far to walk.”
“I’m concerned about what you said about the two men who chased you last night.” The sheriff tipped his head, a frown deepening the lines across his forehead. “I guess you’ll be okay in broad daylight. But you should keep your night forays to a minimum, or go out with a friend. No use tempting fate or the bad guys.”
Since she had a job working nights, staying inside at night was impossible. She had to get to and from work. Stiffening her spine, Phoebe held out her hand. “Thank you, Sheriff Olson. I’ll be careful.”
“You might consider letting your folks know you’re okay.” His big hand enveloped hers in a reassuring grip. “I keep thinking my daughter is about your age. I’d want to know she was safe.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “My father is very overbearing. I’d like to put off the confrontation a little longer.” At least until she was firmly on her own two feet and established in Hellfire. Then she’d let her father know she was okay and not coming home anytime soon.
She stepped out of the sheriff’s office, and Nash hooked her elbow and hustled her toward the exit. “You could have told me you were the daughter of Jonathon Sinclair, the richest man in Texas.”
Anger rolled off him like puffs of steam. Pulling her arm free of his grip, Phoebe lifted her chin and marched on her own toward the door. “I am not my father. I’m just Phoebe.”
“Well, Just Phoebe, your father has a statewide manhunt out for you, with a ten-thousand-dollar reward attached.” He pushed through the door and held it for her.
“So?” She stopped and faced him, crossing both arms over her chest. “Are you turning me in and collecting?”
“Hell, no.” Again, he gripped her arm and led her out into the parking lot. “I’m driving you back to your garage apartment and then going home. Today’s my day off.”
Irritation prickled her skin, and she stopped short of his truck. “Go home, Deputy Grayson. You aren’t responsible for me. I can get back to my apartment on my own.”
Scowling, he opened the passenger door of his truck and held it. “Get in.”
“I’ve had enough of taking orders from the men in my life. Screw you!” She stepped around him and the truck, and marched across the parking lot.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he yelled.
Without looking in his direction, she turned and headed the other direction.
A chuckle sounded behind her. “Still going the wrong way.” He caught up to her and gripped her arms. “I’m sorry. I don’t like being lied to, so sue me.”
For a long moment, she held her shoulders back and her chin up. Then she released the tension that had built inside since Lola woke her with the news that morning. “Deputy Grayson—”
“Nash,” he corrected.
“Nash.” She
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