Rustler's Moon by Jodi Thomas Page B

along the shore didn’t seem to have drapes, or even blinds. She felt a little like a voyeur staring into the homes as she walked. Couples reading, playing cards, watching TV. “Yes,” she whispered. “There will be a peace here for me.”
    A fisherman docking his boat stopped to watch her, but didn’t wave. A couple cuddled in a blanket at the far end of one of the private docks didn’t notice her pass. As the evening aged, she blended in with the shadows.
    For the first time in her life, she almost believed she was invisible.
    When she passed Dan Brigman’s house, she was surprised to see the sheriff with a woman in a flowing dress and heels standing in the room that faced the lake. Dan had mentioned a daughter when he’d shown her the cabin, but not a wife. She’d gotten the impression he wasn’t married, yet the woman looked far too old to be his daughter.
    The woman was waving her arms as if arguing with the sheriff, then raised her hands in the air and let them drop to her sides as though giving up.
    Angela stood frozen as the woman stormed from the room. The sound of the front door slamming and a car starting reached her ears, then the engine roared up the road behind the sheriff’s lake house.
    She was still staring when Dan Brigman walked out on his deck and looked up at the stars.
    She thought maybe, just maybe, if she remained perfectly still he wouldn’t see her. But of course, if he looked in her direction, she’d be silhouetted against the moonlit lake. Wild-haired, five-three Peeping Toms were hard to miss.
    Angela lowered her head, clicked off the flashlight and walked slowly past his place, hoping the shadow of his dock might hide her from view.
    She almost made it to the bend before he called out, “Angela, is that you?”
    She turned and watched him jogging toward her in jeans and a sweatshirt. “I thought I’d walk around part of the lake,” she managed to say.
    He fell into step with her. “Mind if I tag along? I could use a walk.” The sheriff looked thinner without his vest and forty-pound duty belt around his waist. He also looked somehow sadder than he’d been last week, even in the shadows.
    “Not at all.” She clicked back on her flashlight even though the lights from the houses cast a warm glow over a broken path that wandered along between docks and lawn furniture. “You can tell me about the lake.”
    “Well, legend says this stop was an old Comanche winter camp. After the Second World War some of the men returning home decided to build here. I always thought they were looking for peace. I know how they feel—no matter how hectic the job of county sheriff gets, when I come home and stare out at the lake, the world seems right.”
    As he spoke, his words slowed a bit and his shoulders seemed to relax. When she asked about his daughter, he laughed and told her that she had a date for homecoming. “I’m finding out just how important that is,” he admitted.
    “You and your wife must be happy she’s adjusting well to college.” Angela didn’t add that she had no idea how important homecoming dates might be. That wasn’t something she’d participated in at college. She’d had few dates, with friends mostly.
    “We are proud of Lauren.” He cleared his throat. “But my wife and I divorced years ago.” He shrugged. “I might as well tell you. You’ll hear all about everyone who lives around town as soon as you start work tomorrow. Margaret left me a few months after I took this job. She wanted to finish school, then do an internship at a big company in Dallas. After that she got a job there and couldn’t leave the big city and all it had to offer. It took me three years to figure out she wasn’t coming back home. It seemed leaving me wasn’t a problem.”
    He fell silent. They just walked. She listened to the water lapping against the shoreline and fish slapping the calm lake as they jumped to catch their supper.
    She thought of asking who the woman was that