still in evidence.
“Nighttime is the worst,” she admitted as she walked up the steps to her front porch.
“I know.” He had to tell her why he’d come looking for her. And he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“I don’t drink coffee,” she said as she unlocked the door to her house.
He followed her through the living room to the kitchen. He hadn’t been inside her house before today. He didn’t know why. He guessed because Vicki and Mia had been best friends. But he and Mia had been friends, too. They’d grown up together. They’d trailered to rodeos together, a bunch of kids sleeping in the backs of trucks and trailers during those two-day events.
After Vicki’s death, he’d been wrapped up in making his life work, in being a dad to his infant son, and Mia had taken a job with a DEA drug task force that required undercover work.
He had to tell her why he was here.
In the kitchen she bent to pull a coffeemaker out of the cabinet. He reached to help her. She smiled a little and backed up, letting him put it on the counter.
“What are they saying about your arm?”
She ran the coffeemaker under warm water and then filled it with cold water. He plugged in the machine and stepped back as she did a decent job, left-handed, of pouring water into the reservoir and then fitting a filter into the holder.
“Well, it’s held together with a plate and screws. They did what they could for the damaged nerves.” She looked down at her splinted wrist and shrugged. “I can start physical therapy pretty soon.”
“What about your job?” He measured coffee into the filter and hit the power button. “Will you stay with the DEA?”
She walked away, to the window that overlooked her small yard and the two acres of field. He’d always wondered why she chose this place. She had her own land. Each of the Cooper kids had their own hundred acres.
“I don’t know about my job, Slade. The doctors say my right hand will suffer weakness because of the nerve damage.” She sighed and didn’t turn to face him. “I don’t know who I am without that job.”
“You’re still Mia Cooper.”
He moved a few steps and almost, almost put his hand on her shoulder, but he couldn’t. She was a friend. She’d been Vicki’s friend. She turned, smiling a sad smile.
“Slade, that’s the problem. Who is Mia Cooper? For the last few years I’ve been everyone but the person I thought I was. I’ve had to pretend to be someone I never wanted to be. I’ve had to forget myself.”
He watched the emotions play across her face, and when she seemed to be looking for herself, she was still Mia. She was still the little sister of Reese, Travis, Jackson, the list went on and on. They were all friends of his. She’d been the kid sister who didn’t want to stay at home with the girls. She’d wanted to do the overnight trail rides with the guys. She’d beaten them at basketball, caught bigger fish, ridden harder, played longer.
“You’re still Mia. You’re stronger than anyone I know. You’ll find yourself.”
“Stronger than you?” She smiled then, a real smile, a flash of white in a suntanned face. “I don’t think so. How’s Caleb?”
“He’s five now and going to preschool a few days a week. He’s a chip off the old block.”
“I’ll bet he is. I haven’t seen him in so long.”
“Stop by sometime.” He let the words slip out, easy because she was a friend.
“Yeah, I will.”
“You’ve said that before. It would be good for him to know you.”
“I want to know him, too.”
“I have to go pretty soon.” He continued to watch her, slim shoulders straight. She nodded but didn’t turn around.
“I’m good.” She answered the question he hadn’t yet asked.
“No, you aren’t. But I’ll let you pretend you are.” Now he had to tell her the real reason he’d come looking for her. “Mia, Nolan Jacobs was released from jail last night.”
She stood there, not saying a word.
“Mia?”
“I heard you.” She faced him, anger flashing in her dark eyes. “What does that mean? He bonded out?”
“I guess so. And the charges have been reduced.”
“No. Butch and I covered all our bases. We spent six months living that filthy life, away from our families, pretending to be people we weren’t. But he had a way out the whole time. That’s how he made us, through an inside source.”
“They aren’t going to drop this. They won’t let you guys down that way.”
She leaned against the counter, nearly as tall as he was. She held her right arm and turned to stare out the window for a long minute. Finally, she looked at him.
“What about Butch’s wife? Does she know?”
“They’re going to tell her.” He considered letting it go, but he couldn’t. “Mia, it would be best if you went and stayed with your folks for a while. At least until they find a way to bring this guy down.”
“That could take a year. It could take two years. I’m not going to live in fear of him, Slade. I’m staying right here in my house. I’m not going to let him win.”
She turned and poured coffee into a thermal mug. She handed it to him.
“Thanks.” Coffee. It made it seem as if nothing had happened, they weren’t talking life and death. They were friends catching up on the news.
“You’re welcome.”
“And you know I’m going to be out here on patrol. Wherever that money is that went missing, someone is going to be looking for it.”
“You’re going to be watching my house? Please don’t. I’ll feel compelled to feed you and you know I can only cook enchiladas and boxed hamburger meals.” She looked down at her arm. “And I can’t even cook those right now.”
“Maybe I can cook for you.” The words slipped out and hung between them.
“Slade...”
He raised a hand to stop her objections. “Friends, Mia, that’s what we’ve always been.”
She gave him a curt nod. “Be safe out there, Slade.”
“I’m always safe.”
She walked with him to the front door. “Yes, I know you are. But I thought we were safe, too. I thought Butch and I would have each other’s backs. I thought we’d always be able to save each other.”
“You couldn’t have known that you’d been made.”
“I know.” She stood in the front door as he got ready to leave. “Slade, what if I should have known? I keep going over it again and again in my mind, wondering if I saw something that should have given it away.”
“Don’t. I know that it’s easy to second-guess, but it won’t change anything.”
Slade had done it, too. He’d thought about it over and over, if he should have known what would happen that night to Vicki. He couldn’t have known. He’d never seen it coming. But for a couple of years he’d beaten himself up, thinking he should have told her not to drive that night. He should have known there were storms coming.
He should have done something.
For a long minute he stood on Mia’s front porch, thinking back. Yes, he knew how Mia felt. He knew the questions she’d been asking herself since the shooting. It took him by surprise when