Atonement Read Free Page B

his alarm clock—three in the morning. “Sweet mother.”
    The German Shepherd humphed and buried his nose under the blankets. Con turned his back to the dog as the phone rang in his hand. He peered at the number.
    Rivers? Shock coursed through him. She still had his number. As a precautionary measure and a neighborly gesture, he’d given it to her a couple of years ago to contact him if she needed assistance at home after a bad summer storm had torn through the area. He’d also hoped she’d eventually break down and give him a shot at getting to know her, but the lass was fiercely stubborn in that department. After she’d stood him up, Con thought for sure she’d trashed his contact info. This was a surprise.
    Tapping the green phone icon on the screen, Con placed the cell to his ear; unsure what to call her, he played it safe. “Deputy Rivers, do you realize it’s three blessed a.m.?”
    An unladylike snort vibrated over the connection. “I ain’t on duty. It’s Nic.”
    Okay, time for a different approach. He flopped onto the pillows. “What can I help you with, Nic?”
    She choked out a laugh. “Con, do you … know how it feels … to kill som’body?” The slosh of liquid interrupted her. She smacked her lips. “Feels like shit.”
    Not good. Con slid off the bed and pounded the wall for the light switch. “How much have you had to drink?”
    She mumbled something then coughed.
    His fingers brushed the switch, and he flipped it. Light burned his eyes, and he peered through slits to search for his clothes. “Listen to me, Nic. I’m on my way over. Don’t you hang up on me.”
    Cadno lifted his head, and his black and brown eyes followed Con around the bedroom.
    Nic burst into laughter. The bitter edge echoed in Con’s head. She better not have her sidearm out when he got there. With his phone braced between his shoulder and ear, he grabbed his jeans off the floor and rammed his legs into them, tugged on a T-shirt, and slipped his bare feet into his shoes.
    “Hey, Con.” Nic giggled. “Got a good … one fer ya.”
    Palming the keys to his truck, he snapped to Cadno and gave him the forward hand command. “What’s that?”
    The former military working dog jumped off the bed and darted for the door ahead of Con.
    “Didja know …” She hiccupped. “I got this damn job … ’cause I could shoot?”
    Cadno slipped through the crack before Con could fully open the door, ran over to the truck, and sat, waiting. Con let the door slap shut behind him and hurried to the Ford.
    “Yeah, Nic. I know you did.”
    Once Cadno hopped inside the cab and settled in his seat, Con followed suit. Ignoring his seat belt, he turned over the Ford’s engine. “Ya know that ain’t the single reason the sheriff hired you.” Con peeled out of the gravel drive. His place was a few miles from hers. Resisting the urge to smack the steering wheel, he navigated the lane.
Keep her talking.
Maybe—let it be so—she didn’t have her sidearm out. “You’re a good cop.”
    She snorted, and it sounded like she tipped the bottle again. Clearing her throat, she breathed into the phone. “I was a good l’il marine, too.”
    The lane ended at a T, and he squealed onto the paved road. “What happened today was bad—”
    “Shit, Con, I killed someone. Blew his brains all over a wall!” Her labored breathing made his heart race. “Bad … bad is … getting shot. Now tha’s bad.”
    Con took a curve like Jimmie Johnson at Bristol. “What choice did you have? He was going to kill his kids.”
    “He killed his wife.” The slosh of liquor came over the line again. “I shoulda stopped him before.”
    Damn it! How much liquor could the woman handle? He turned on the road leading to Nic’s house. The truck’s headlights slashed over the sign warning of the narrow bridge crossing ahead. “Why are you beating yourself up? You did the right thing.”
    She swore again and gulped.
    Rumbling over the bridge, Con steered the