Silent Witness Read Free Page A

expect him to spill his guts to her.
    â€œYou’re acting like this is a death sentence, Lieutenant. I’m not your executioner.” Although he wanted to be hers, no doubt.
    â€œIt is, and you are,” Jim said, defiance in his growl. Double ouch. His fear was turning to anger to keep her at arm’s length. Did she already know he was drawn to her? Hell, she was probably married. There was no wedding ring on her left hand, however, he noted. Cochrane struggled to tuck his real feelings down into a black hole. She was trained to see beyond the exterior of a person. Anxiety riffled through him. Taking a stack of files, he dropped them on the edge of his desk near the cabinet. “You civilians would never understand.” He twisted to look up at her from his crouched position over the files.
    â€œTry me,” Ellen said, shifting into her therapist mode. “I think military people and civilian people possess the same brain and heart, if my memory serves me correctly. Or am I missing something in our dialogue?” She wouldn’t take his jabs lying down. Coming from an Irish and German ancestry, Ellen was going to fight for herself in this situation, not wimp out.
    â€œThis ain’t about anatomy and physiology, Agent Tanner.” He was amazed that she seemed so unflappable. Those green eyes were so focused, so assessing as if she saw deep into his soul. His heart pounded with fear. With longing. “Being a civilian, you don’t have the foggiest notion of how the military works.” He saw her eyes narrow speculatively upon him.
    â€œColorful analogies, and you’ve got an interesting accent. Where are you from, Lieutenant?” Maybe if she turned this personal and stroked his ego a little, he’d settle down.
    â€œAround here,” he snarled in his best Ozarks drawl, “Ah’m knowed as Hillbilly Cochrane. You’ve heerd ’bout the Hatfields and McCoys? Li’l Abner? Wall Ah’m from them thar hills of Mazurey, Agent Tanner. Ah din’t war shoes till high school. Ah got ’em off when Ah cud. I hate shoes.”
    As Jim stacked other files into some semblance of order, he continued. “Mah pa is a moonshiner by trade. He makes the best white mule in Mazurey. Mah ma is a witchin’ woman anna herb doctor. Me ahn mah brothers were always in trubble.”
    Ellen stared blankly at him. Good God! What had he just babbled? And in what foreign language? She blinked a couple of times, trying to assimilate his words.
    Cochrane could see her trying to understand his thick Missouri accent. Hill talk was a different language, although he’d been told that it was very close toOld English as spoken in seventeenth century England. Jim had learned years ago that his Missouri accent could work for or against him. People tended to trust him more easily on the one hand. On the other, during a courtroom trial, he had to rein in most of his accent or people assumed he was dumb and slow—which worked against him and his client. When Jim entered college, he’d been looked upon with prejudice due to his roots. Most outsiders thought of him as an ignoramus.
    Managing a slight, conciliatory smile, Ellen said, “I’ll give you points for being colorful and truthful, Lieutenant.” Maybe humor would ease the tension between them?
    Jim stared up at her. Nope, she wasn’t thrown off the trail of bread crumbs he’d just scattered before her. Damn. Smart and beautiful. As he unwound from his position, he rubbed his palms against his tan slacks. “That’s my specialty,” he answered. She looked faintly amused, but not in a way that made fun of him. No, her head was tilted like a bird checking out a worm—and he was the worm.
    â€œLieutenant, I feel you’re projecting a lot of misplaced anger toward me,” Ellen began gently. “I didn’t ask to be assigned to you. I have a high regard for the military and