No Perfect Hero(94)

“Haley West,” Langley says slowly, looking at her like she's some strange new creature he’s never seen before, his brows drawn in a terse line. But he stands, taking his wide-brim hat off with a courteous bow before shaking her hand lightly. “Officer Wentworth Langley. Local sheriff and pretty much half the Heart’s Edge police force. A pleasure, ma’am.”

“The pleasure’s mine.” Hay dimples prettily.

Fuck me. I had no idea she had such manners and grace, and wonder if Grandma's been schooling her. Or if this is the face she puts on over that restless artist’s spirit to survive in a world that doesn’t get her kind of fire?

Soon she’s on performance, moving smoothly, all charm and sweetness. “You caught me off guard this morning. I’m afraid I need to clear up a misunderstanding.”

Langley sinks down in his chair with slow, thoughtful movements, watching her in puzzlement. “What’s that, Miss?”

“Well, it’s about Mr. Bress. I met him a few times. He seemed very nice, and I’m so sorry for the town’s loss, but...he died last night, didn’t he?” She watches him with liquid eyes, lashes fluttering, and Langley clears his throat, straightening his shoulders.

“Well, Miss, I can’t give out details of a case still in progress to the general public, but I can confirm that time of death was at some point last night, yes.”

“Then I’m afraid you have to let Mr. Ford go,” Hay says with a simplicity that seems to assume it’s just fact. Langley blinks.

“What?”

“Well, I...how do I put this?” She clears her throat, ducking her head, cheeks flushing beet red as she glances at me from under her lashes. “You see, I was with Warren all night. I promise you he didn’t go anywhere or do anything to anyone. And if you need more testimony, then both my niece Tara and Warren’s grandmother Wilma Ford can verify. Both his alibi and mine.”

That’s when it hits me.

Hay’s here to spring me out of jail.

I’d told her to stay put and let me handle it, but this stubborn damn woman put herself out here to save my neck again.

She’s a stranger here, with no good reason to think anyone in Heart’s Edge would trust her with murder on the line.

And she risked it anyway.

For me.

My chest swells with something almost like pride. Fuck, Haley’s something else.

Brave. Wonderful. Smart.

Tricky as hell, too. Because she's doing it, pulling the wool over Langley right now.

He looks uncomfortable, tugging at the collar of his shirt, adjusting his tie, and he can’t quite look at her.

“Now, Miss, anyone can come in here and say they can vouch for someone. Doesn’t make it true.”

“So you’re calling Ms. Wilma a liar?” Haley asks sweetly. There’s that touch of sugar-sweet poison I know so well. She’s injected it in me so deep it practically burns in my veins. “Here’s the thing, Sheriff Langley. I know the penalty for lying to an officer of the law. I’m out here on my own, no family but my niece, no money, and really the police could come up with any kind of charges and no one would be able to help me. But I’m willing to sign a sworn affidavit, admissible in a court of law, that I was with Warren Ford last night. Do you think I’d be willing to risk prosecution in my situation if I was lying?”

Langley doesn’t stand a chance.

I’d say Hay’s definitely been taking lessons from the Wilma Ford School of Kill ‘Em With Kindness, but this is all her. And it’s hard for me not to grin when Langley shoots me an irritated look before sighing and hefting himself to his feet, adjusting his belt.

“Wait here,” he grunts, then eyes Haley. “No. Wait outside. I don’t want you two colluding.”

“No collusion here, sir,” she says tartly, smiling up at him before turning in a flare of her skirt and sauntering out. She doesn’t even look at me.

Little minx.

After the door closes, Langley gives me another sour look through the bars separating us. “You’re lucky you got a woman who’ll go to bat for you.”

“I know.”

I can’t help grinning. I’m not mad. Langley’s just doing his job.

With another irritable grunt, he adjusts his belt again and turns to stalk into the back room. I hear the sound of a copy machine before he emerges with a stack of papers and trudges outside, his shoulders bowed.

I don’t envy him, honestly. Small town cops aren’t cut out for murder investigations, and this case will probably be cold within twenty-four hours, even if the Feds descend and take control.

Good thing I’m an expert at picking up cold trails.

When he comes back, it’s with those papers signed in dashes of blue ink. He rifles through the keys on his belt, then unlocks the cell and slides the bars open to let me out with a toss of his head. “Go on, then. Get.”

I don’t have to be told twice.

I’m out the door in a heartbeat, and I’m not going to lie: my heart does some damn weird shit when I step outside and see Haley leaning against her Mustang with her arms folded over her chest and her hair pulled loose in a windswept tumble.

She’s so fucking gorgeous, and it’s more than how she looks.

It’s who she is.

And I may not know everything about her just yet, but I know plenty to realize she’s really something special.