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Her thick hair waved around her as she shook her head. “Personally.”
He hesitated. He didn't understand why, but he could tell a lot rode on his answer. Maybe everything.
Swallowing, he tried to get his tongue to stop sticking to the roof of his mouth. If he’d had any idea what she wanted to hear, he would have blurted it out in a heartbeat. But he didn't, which left him with the truth. Pulling her into his arms, he stroked her hair.
“Us, together. Happy. A small house on a plot of land.” The picture formed in his head so quickly, he must have been dreaming of it subconsciously for years. “A grove of trees as a windbreak around the house, one with a treehouse and a tire swing. Lots of open space for our kids to run.”
Her shoulders convulsed against him. Hell, it must be the job.
“I promise, I'll be home every night. It's Dry Creek. It’s not like we've got a huge crime rate.”
She twisted out of his grasp, her head lowered.
“Beth, what is it?”
When she brought her teary gaze up to his, he held his breath, steadying himself as if for a physical blow.
“I can't give you that.”
“What do you mean?”
She laughed, the sound harsh and torn. “This is the ultimate case of not being able to have your cake and eat it too.”
“Beth…” His voice cracked, a poor imitation of the damage being done to his heart. She didn’t move, didn’t say a word, and Hank’s chest hurt as if it were splitting down the middle.
Then, her brown eyes softened around the edges.
His shoulders relaxed and his heart rate came back to normal. “So we'll work through this, whatever it is.”
Sighing, a look of forlorn kindness on her face, she brushed his hair back from his forehead and brushed his cheek with a kiss. “No, we won’t.”
Her hand slid from his and she slipped into her dress.
Before he could utter a word, the door thumped against his back. He ignored it, but the knock came again.
“Uh, Beth, are you in there? It's me, Phil.” His words were muffled by the closed door, but the underlying desperation came through loud and clear.
In an instant, Hank was on full alert. What the hell? How had he found her here and why was he following her?
Beth slid her arms into her suit jacket. “What do you want, Phil?”
“It's about what we talked about at the coffee shop. You're right, I need to come clean, but please don't make me yell it through the door.”
An itchy sensation danced down his spine, but he looked through the peephole and shucked on his pants. The fisheye view of Phil Harris showed him sweating and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Good so far, but still Hank couldn't shake the unease. Leaving the security lock on, he inched open the door. Damn, he'd be a shitload more comfortable if he hadn't had to leave his gun in Dry Creek. Eyeballing Harris through the slit, his body tensed, waiting for an unseen attacker.
“Come on, man, it's just me and I really need to talk to Beth.”
“You alone?”
Harris’ gaze never left his. “Yes.”
Hank closed the door, flipped the security lock and opened the it. Harris stood by himself. The man's right eye twitched and he gulped.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before a single sound emerged, a soft pop sounded and the right side of his head exploded outward.
Blood splattered against the white doorframe.
Crimson rivers ran down the wood and puddled on the brown carpet.
