Read Online Lawman's Redemption by Marilyn Pappano - Free Book Online Page A

you?”
    â€œThere are some strange people out there.” She glanced again at the girl, who was walking away. Purple-haired, clothes thatwere one breath away from indecent, combat boots with a mini-skirt—that was nothing in Los Angeles.
    It stood out in Buffalo Plains.
    â€œI talked to Marlene, and she said they haven’t decided what to do with the house yet, but you’d be welcome to rent it for a while. Here’s her number. Give her a call anytime you want to go look at it.”
    â€œThanks, Stella. Do you happen to know where it is?”
    â€œOh, it’s easy to find. When you go out of town south on Main, the last street you’ll come to is Cedar, and the Tucker place is the first house on the left after that. It’s white, neat as a button—and, of course, the mailbox out front says Tucker.” With another grin, Stella planted her hands on her hips.
    â€œSo…what did you decide about that oak table?”
    â€œCan you hold it for me?”
    â€œSure can.”
    â€œThen I’ll take it. And these, too.” She picked up several platters, then followed Stella to the checkout counter. A few minutes later, she was walking out the door, her platters in a bag and a Sold sign planted in the middle of her table.
    She took the bag to her car and locked it in the trunk, then checked her watch. She still had a few minutes before she was supposed to meet Brady. Time enough for a quick walk through one more store.
    Then lunch. With Brady. A part of her felt almost as giddy as a teenager going on her first date, but this wasn’t a date. A date would have been dinner, picking her up at the motel, taking her back there—or to his house—when it was over.
    This was just lunch. Between friends. Innocent.
    Exactly what she wanted, she assured herself.
    The little voice inside her head didn’t agree, whispering a childhood taunt.
    Liar, liar, pants on fire….
    Â 
    After a morning on patrol, Brady parked in his reserved space behind the courthouse, entered through the back door, then went into the sheriff’s department and headed for his office. He was almost there when the dispatcher stopped him.
    â€œSomeone to see you, Brady.”
    He glanced at the cramped space set aside for a lobby, where the dispatcher gestured, expecting to see Hallie, a few minutes early for their lunch. The only one there, though, was a teenage girl. Though there was something vaguely familiar about her, he was sure they’d never met. Purple hair was hard to forget.
    So were enough holes in her ears to make the wind whistle through. There was a gold bar and chain through her right eyebrow, a stud through her nostril and another in her navel, around which a circle in what appeared to be a Celtic design was tattooed. He didn’t even want to think about where else she might be mutilated.
    He backtracked a few steps in her direction. “Can I help you?” he asked brusquely.
    She was sprawled on one of the molded plastic chairs, her long legs stretching halfway across the room. Her boots were clunky, black and scuffed, her skirt was too short and rode low on her hips, and her lace top had been too small a year ago. A pair of headphones dangled around her neck, she wore way too much makeup, and her expression was 100-percent whiny adolescent pout.
    Her insolent gaze started at his feet and moved up. By the time it reached his face, she’d curled one lip in complete disdain. “You Brady Marshall?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œA cop. Jeez, what a loser.” She stood up, her thin body looking like a stick figure unfolding. She was about five foot ten—not a bad height for a young woman. Not a great one for a barely-a-teenager girl. “Well, there’s my stuff.” With a hand that bore rings on every finger, she pointed in the direction of a duffel bag. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Clomping on the wood floor, she got as far as the