She nodded and set our cups before us. As if she knew her way around my kitchen, she set sugar on the table and reached in the fridge for half-and-half. “Makes sense for me to return his bike. I don’t want to owe him anything. Can I give it to you when we’re done here?”

I protested. “How will you get back and forth to work?”

“My legs. I’ll buy my own bicycle in another week or so.”

“I’ll get you one tomorrow,” I said.

“No charity. End of discussion.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

The sheriff picked up the conversation. “Randy knows he’s on my suspect list. Although endangering his sister indicates how far he might have slid downhill.”

“I feel sorry for him,” Shelby said. “He must believe his purpose is to protect the innocent. Honorable, even if he’s stretched the boundaries.”

I tried to unearth Shelby’s line of thinking. She’d pulled the trigger on an innocent man, and she knew firsthand the remorse accompanying a horrible crime. Randy could be the one threatening her and still she defended him.

28

SHELBY

In the quiet pre-morning darkness when nature whispered tranquility, I walked to work. Many women would fear the trek to town, but I’d squared off with danger and wasn’t afraid. Staying alert had become a way of life. I concentrated on a powerful God who would soon usher in dawn across the eastern sky in yellows, oranges, and sometimes lavender. My way of viewing nature’s wonder and worshiping the Creator.

Today exhaustion and “help me” looped in a banner across my mind. Two hours of restless sleep had taken my body by siege. Every muscle fought me like a wounded animal with bared teeth. How sad that Randy Hughes hated me because he couldn’t right the world.

Did Marissa feel the same way about me? Had she forgiven herself? I prayed for her, my sweet sister, who’d never made any mistakes. But one.

In the wee hours of the morning, I’d asked Sheriff Wendall if my dad had called his office fearful for his family’s safety. He confirmed it. Since no one from my family had contacted me in years, my past conviction must make me look like a monster in their eyes.

Had I forgiven my family for abandoning me? I hoped so because God expected me to do for others what He’d done for me. But the truth hurt. I never expected Mom and Dad to totally break contact. During the trial Dad had asked me, “Shelby, did you pull the trigger or was a third person involved?”

Not going there.

It was useless.

I shook off the past to concentrate on the future. If not, I’d be hit with a boatload of depression.

My burner phone rang, and I yanked it from my sweatshirt pocket.

“This is Denton. I’m leaving the cabin to drive you to work.”

“No need. I’m nearly to the three-mile marker. Besides, if we’re seen together by the wrong person, it could destroy our plan.”