“It’s not me.”

“You’re a strange man, rather pathetic.” She paused. “At the end of your life, what will you have to show for your quest?”

I’d pondered the same thing. “A life spent seeking truth.”

“Maybe you should check your road map. This is what I know. Three months ago, my parole date was announced as well as my relocation plans. You slither into one of Edie’s cabins, set yourself up as a good neighbor, and devise ways to convince me you’re a great guy. You used a puppy to win my friendship. Rather low, don’t you think? How stupid do you think I am?”

My cheeks burned along with my gut. “Apparently I misjudged your intelligence.”

Shelby folded her arms over her chest. “I neglected to mention my compliments to your family’s dedication to preserving the law. A dad and two brothers viewed as superhero police officers. And to think you broke the mold to enter the FBI. Impressive.”

A female server delivered our food, but my appetite had vanished.

“Miss.” Shelby focused on the server with an extra dose of sweetness. “I’d like my order boxed to go, and I’ll take the check for my meal.”

I raised my palm at Shelby. “This is my bill.”

She stood. “No thanks. I neither need your deceit nor a handout. But I’m keeping Joy. I hate the thought of returning her to you.”

The server set my plate before me and disappeared.

“I can take you home,” I said.

“Not necessary, Agent McClure. I’ll relieve you of Officer Hughes’s bicycle from your truck bed and be on my way. The day’s beautiful, and I plan to sort through information about my FBI neighbor.” She slipped a denim purse onto her shoulder. “Question, have you stalked me and broken into my home?”

How should I answer?

“Never mind. You already did. The threatening phones calls had better stop too. Breaking the law for a stellar résumé might land you behind bars. Now how ironic would that be?”

18

SHELBY

Truth could hurt worse than a smack in the face. I knew Denton’s identity before I’d confronted him, and still I toggled between anger and disappointment. Why would I confess to a murder and accept the consequences that could have ended my life and lie about a theft?

I pedaled faster. This morning in church when the older man had complained about my presence in the community, I tried to bolt. Amy-Jo grabbed my hand and held it in a viselike grip, forcing me to endure the humiliating torment as though she knew my instinct was to flee. But when I finally shook her loose and chose to address the church, peace flooded my whole being.

On the other hand, Amy-Jo claimed this was the first time she’d attended church in years, but Edie had asked her to sit with me. From what she’d seen from the mouthy old man, Amy-Jo would be accompanying me in the future as my personal bodyguard. At times, I wondered about her crusty ways. Maybe like me, she came from a troubled past.