Sunset Bridge by Emilie Richards

while after I left her with—” She broke off.
    “You didn’t keep her with you?”
    Maggie saw no point in secrets. “I went camping for a while. Cats aren’t the best companions in a tent. She was well taken care of, trust me. But she didn’t like the change in routine.”
    “No, it wasn’t routine she missed. She missed you. She missed me. She’s not an inanimate object.”
    “If she were, I wouldn’t have to change her litter box.”
    “You always denied how much you love this cat. Some things don’t change.”
    “Some things do.” She faced him. “You didn’t get iced tea at Mom’s. Want some?”
    “How about something stronger?”
    “Beer?”
    He nodded. She strolled into the kitchen, deceptively calm, and rooted through the refrigerator. She rarely drank beer, yet she’d bought some to keep on hand. Now she wondered why. Had she bought it for Felo, knowing that one day he would show up on her doorstep? Was she still catering to a man she had walked out on? And what did that say about her?
    “No Hatuey,” she said, naming his favorite South Florida brand, “but I have Corona.”
    “Fine.” He spoke from the doorway, Rumba still purring in his arms.
    She took her time opening the bottle, finding a glass, pouring carefully so the beer didn’t overflow. She didn’t bother adding a slice of lime, since that seemed too much like something she would do for a lover. She handed the finished product to him. “Did you eat lunch?”
    He stowed the cat under one arm and took the glass. “I didn’t come to be entertained, Mags.”
    She shrugged. “How did you find me? Or were you just hoping if you showed up on Mom’s doorstep, she would cave and tell you where I was?”
    “Your mother doesn’t cave.”
    “Then you must have known I was here.”
    “Yeah, thanks to you.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest, then realized what he’d said and dropped them to her sides. “What are you talking about?”
    “The GPS messenger I gave you? Well, I got an email message this morning with your location pinpointed on Google Maps.”
    For a moment she stared at him. “I didn’t—” Then she remembered.
    For her birthday two years before, Felo had given her a special GPS unit to carry along when she went hiking or kayaking on her own. He was a cop, always sure trouble was around the corner, and the unit was small and ingenious, able to pinpoint her location anywhere in the world by satellite. She had accepted the gift, but it had never pleased her. To Maggie, the GPS signaled a lack of faith in her ability to take care of herself. Like almost every male cop she’d known, there was a part of Felo that still thought she was weaker and more vulnerable than he was.
    Weaker, and in need of a man’s control and opinions.
    In addition to summoning professional help in an emergency, the GPS unit allowed her to signal a contact—and of course, Felo had been that contact—to let him know that she needed assistance. The unit worked where cell phones would not, and it was waterproof, with a long-life battery, particularly long-lived for someone like Maggie, who rarely turned it on.
    Unfortunately, yesterday she had turned it on when she found it deep in the pocket of the cargo pants she’d taken camping with her. She’d turned it on for a quick system test, and apparently she had pressed the wrong button while she was at it.
    “Well, I hope they don’t put me in charge of the witness protection program,” she said.
    “Not much chance of that, now, is there?”
    She didn’t wince. “No, I suppose not. Law enforcement isn’t exactly knocking down my door for new jobs these days.”
    “You brought that on yourself.”
    She was glad to feel anger replacing what had been raw nerves at seeing him again. “Maybe I did, but you know what? Somebody had to point out what was going on, Felo. Not all of us are willing to just turn our backs on corruption.”
    He took a long drink before he answered. “You