free to go.”
“You’ll need a few days of R and R.”
“No, I’m good to go.”
The chief hackled up like a mad cat. “Don’t argue with me, Monroe. You might be DEA, but I’m the officer in charge.”
“Former DEA, Chief, but you’re right. It’s your town. I’m grateful you took me on.” The slower pace of Whisper Falls was exactly what he wanted, at least for a while. They’d agreed to a six-month trial period, and after that, who knew?
“Feel lucky to get a man like you. Though I have to admit I wonder why you’d want to come to a boring, rural town to play second fiddle to someone like me. Frankly, I wondered if you’d show up.”
“I’m a man of my word.” He took a slow, easy inhale, testing the bruised ribs, proud to hold back a wince. “Boring and quiet sounds good right now.”
“So you said. Burned out. Worn down.”
Those might not have been his exact words but close enough. “Something like that.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. We don’t have much crime, though the rise in tourism has caused a few issues. There was a time I could handle everything myself with a couple of part-timers and the occasional auxiliary for special occasions, but lately...Well, I’m not getting any younger. Having a full-time, experienced assistant chief will take a load off.” She spun a small, straight-backed chair close to his and plopped down. “Now. About you and this accident. You’ll need a few days to get familiar with Whisper Falls and the surrounding area. Might as well use that as healing time. When you start prowling around town on duty, you’ll need to be in top shape.”
Heath figured his definition of top shape and the chief’s were two different things. “How’s my SUV?”
“I had it hauled in to Tommy’s Busted Knuckle after we got you shipped up here last night. You’ll have to talk to Tommy.” She rubbed at her nose, sharp eyes still assessing him. “Cassie Blackwell saved your hide, son. We’d never have found you down in that hole if she hadn’t seen you go off the road.”
Cassie Blackwell. That was the name he’d been trying to remember all morning. “I owe her.”
“Sure do. She’s a good girl, our Cassie. You’ll be seeing her around.”
He hoped so. Even with a crack on the skull, he remembered Cassie. Silky voice, dark wet hair and huge eyes. Pretty. Really pretty. He wouldn’t mind seeing Cassie Blackwell again. “She offered me a pedicure.”
“What?” Chief looked at him as if he was still addled.
He shook his head, thinking he was still too fuzzy to make sense. “Nothing. Something funny she said to me last night. I think she was trying to keep me awake.”
“That’s Cassie. She can talk a blue streak.”
He remembered that much. She’d talked on and on when all he’d wanted to do was sleep. He thought she may have told him her life story and that of every person in Whisper Falls—which could come in handy in his job, if he could remember.
“Where’s that nurse?” The chief glared at the door, willing it to open. “We got to get moving.”
Heath’s head was pounding again. He really wished the chief wouldn’t talk so loud.
She pointed at him. “Sit tight, Monroe. I’ll go see if I can bail you out. The blasted rain finally let up, but we got us a mess in Whisper Falls, and the sooner we get back, the better.”
He waited until the blustering chief charged out of the room. Then he took out his cell phone and dialed 411. Heath Monroe was a man who paid his debts. And he owed Cassie Blackwell.
Chapter Three
The morning was clear and sunny, a perfect spring day when daffodils burst from the damp earth to nod their golden heads and the wind is so still a stranger wouldn’t believe how wild the sky had been last night. That is, until they arrived in downtown Whisper Falls and saw the mess.
Limbs and trash, asphalt shingles from someone’s roof, trash cans and lids, and a smattering of kids’ plastic toys were scattered down the streets and against business doors. The residential areas looked far worse. Cassie had even seen a doghouse hanging in a tree. She hoped the dog hadn’t been in it.
Along with every other businessperson in town, Cassie had hit the streets at daylight to assess the damage. From the looks of things, nothing was completely destroyed, but they’d have plenty of cleanup to keep them busy for days.
She wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, tired and oddly disheartened. She should be thankful, all things considered. Her shop was intact, her family and friends were safe, and even the stranger in the accident was reported to be in good condition.
She hadn’t slept much last night, given the late hour she’d gotten home and the whirl of excitement that had gone on before. Heath Monroe had played around the edges of her mind even while she’d slept. She’d awakened after a reenactment of that long period when she’d been alone with him inside the crashed vehicle. She’d been afraid for him.
All night, she’d fought the temptation to call Chief Farnsworth for an update but had waited until this morning. The chief had her hands full with the aftermath of an F1 tornado and if Cassie knew JoEtta Farnsworth, the chief had slept less than anyone.
“Thank God the tornado was a little one,” she muttered as she bagged trash and listened to the whine of chain saws. Her brother, Austin, Davis Turner and a group of other men manned the saws, clearing broken trees and limbs whereever needed.
“I’m thankful we didn’t take a direct hit.” This from Evelyn Parsons, the town’s matriarch. The older woman, whose salt-and-pepper hair was kinked tight as corkscrews in the damp morning air, had literally put Whisper Falls on the map. She wouldn’t take it lightly if the town was blown away after all her efforts to revive it. Miss Evelyn had turned a rumor into a tourist attraction. People came from all over to pray under the waterfall outside of town, hopeful that the rumor was true, that God really did answer prayers murmured there. In the opinion of Miss Evelyn and most of Whisper Falls, everyone benefited from the story and it never hurt to pray. The comment made Cassie feel a little better about her own pilgrimage, though she would be embarrassed if anyone knew. “Uncle Digger said the worst damage is east of town. There aren’t many houses or people out that way.”
“A few but they’re scattered all over the hills.”
Darrell’s cousin lived east of town, though he was far up in the hills and back in the woods. She should probably call the man but he hadn’t been too friendly after Darrell’s death, as if he blamed her somehow for the loss. Truthfully, he’d never seemed to like her and they hadn’t spoken since the funeral.
“Not likely any of them took a hit. The tornado dissipated not long after it moved over the town.”
“True. I’m sure they’re fine.” Cassie peeled a soggy magazine from the side of a building and tossed it into the bag. “I have appointments this morning. Should we open for business?”
“Absolutely!” Miss Evelyn said. “This cleanup will take days, and that’s why we pay city workers and have a strong corps of volunteers. The sooner we get back to normal, the better.”
At eight, Cassie headed to the salon for a quick shower and change before her first appointment at eight-thirty. By ten o’clock the small salon was packed with customers and gossipers. Everyone knew there were two places in Whisper Falls to get all the latest news: Cassie’s Tress and Tan Salon and the Iron Horse Snack Shop down at the train depot, run by none other than Miss Evelyn and Uncle Digger Parsons. Cassie figured both businesses were hopping today.
Midmorning, the newly engaged Lana Ross stopped by in her quest for newspaper stories. Wearing her usual cowboy boots and bling jeans, the former country