A Time to Keep Read Free Page B

before.
    Gwen watched as he entered the information on her car’s registration. The commonwealth of Massachusetts DMV had listed Gwendolyn P. Taylor as the owner of the car.
    â€œWhat does the P stand for?”
    â€œPaulette.”
    â€œPretty,” Shiloh said without any emotion in his voice.
    â€œCan I go now?” she asked after he’d given her back her documents.
    He noted the time on his watch and entered it into the computer. It was seven-forty-five. In fifteen minutes he would be officially off duty. “Yes, you can, Miss Taylor. I’ll come around and help you down.” Shiloh stepped out of the Suburban at the same time a police cruiser pulled up, lights flashing.
    Frank Lincoln got out, right hand resting on his firearm. “You all right, boss?”
    Shiloh stared at the overzealous young deputy. Frank’s father was a special agent with the FBI, and his grandfather a retired Louisiana state trooper. He’d hired the new recruit because he was ambitious, honest and dedicated to his profession.
    â€œI’m good, Frank.”
    There was just enough sunlight left to discern the flush creeping up his face, the bright color matching his orange hair. “I saw your flasher, then I noticed the perp sitting in the front seat, so I thought you were in trouble.”
    Now Shiloh knew why Frank had stopped. “Miss Taylor is not a perp. I stopped…”
    His explanation died on his lips. He didn’t have to explain to a subordinate what he was doing and why Gwendolyn Taylor was in the front seat instead of in the rear behind a heavy mesh partition where perpetrators were handcuffed when they were taken to the station house for questioning or locked up before they were arraigned at the courthouse.
    â€œIt’s almost time for your shift, Lincoln.” Whenever he addressed his deputies by their last name it was usually followed by a reprimand.
    Frank saluted Shiloh. “Good night, sir.”
    He returned the salute. “Good night, Frank. Don’t forget to turn off your lights.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Waiting until the cruiser disappeared from view, Shiloh came around the SUV and scooped Gwen off the seat, then set her gently on her feet. Cupping her elbow, he led her back to her car. He released her arm and opened the door to the BMW.
    â€œIf you follow me, I’ll show you how to get to Bon Temps. ”
    Gwen studied his face, feature by feature, with a curious intensity as the gold-green eyes darkened with an unreadable expression. She liked his eyes and strong chin. There was just a hint of a cleft, as if nature hadn’t quite made up its mind whether to give him one.
    â€œThank you, Sheriff Harper.”
    He touched the brim of the wide hat with a thumb and forefinger. “You’re welcome, Miss Taylor.”
    Shiloh waited until she was seated before he returned to his SUV, turned off the flasher, executed a U-turn and headed southward. He glanced up at the rearview mirror. She was following him.
    He decelerated and drove onto a paved road leading to a smaller version of the half-dozen restored antebellum mansions offering tours. Live oaks formed a natural canopy as he approached the house known as Bon Temps —meaning “good times” in French.
    Shiloh wondered if Gwendolyn Taylor was aware of what had gone on behind the doors of the infamous mansion. He also wondered how well she’d known her namesake, Gwendolyn Pickering. A knowing smile parted his lips. If she didn’t know, then she would once the gossips came to introduce themselves to the newcomer. His first instinct was to warn her, but he changed his mind. There was something about Gwendolyn Taylor that said she could hold her own with anything and anyone. She had with him.
    He waited in his vehicle, watching Gwendolyn as sheparked her car, walked to the entrance of the house, and unlocked the front door. She disappeared inside and seconds later the first