She had turned off her cell, but how had she missed Piper knocking? Percocet. It must have knocked her out.

"What are you doing here in the dark?"

"I guess I missed the 'I answer to Jonah' memo."

He pulled her onto the sidewalk where the outer lamp illuminated her tears. "Is it your leg?"

"Will you stop b.u.t.ting in?"

"Piper called me. I'm a cop. I respond." He blew out his breath. "I have a psychopath out there eviscerating animals, maybe the same one who tore up your shop because you touched him. And here you are, in the dark, alone."

He had a point.

"It's late, and you're injured. For once, be reasonable. Let me take you home."

She slumped against the jamb. "My purse is inside."

"Where?"

"The back."

He eased her inside the door and let it close, then moved through the shop under the security lights. Her whole body shook. The injury must be worse than she'd thought. The drug had certainly worn off.

Jonah returned with her purse and jacket. She reached for the coat, but he slid the sleeve up her arm and wrapped it around for the other. She closed her eyes as he settled it over her shoulders. Had her dad helped her that way when she was little? All she remembered were her own stubborn a.s.sertions, "I can do it myself." "I can do it myself." She tugged her purse over her shoulder. She tugged her purse over her shoulder.

Jonah supported her elbow as she limped through the door. He half lifted her into the Bronco at the curb, her leg throbbing as she positioned it. Jonah reached for the buckle, but she took it from him. She couldn't let him reach across.

He stepped back and closed the door, walked around, and invaded the s.p.a.ce inside with a presence that consumed oxygen. She'd never ridden alone with him. Silence climbed in to chaperon. He parked directly across her front walk. She opened the door, but before she could get her wounded leg to the concrete, he was there holding her arm.

"I can do it."

He closed the door behind her and guided her toward the house. She didn't want him at her door, but there he was. She fumbled for her keys.

He raised her chin. "They don't care, Tia."

A lump filled her throat.

"You're never going to change their minds. Even if you spend your whole life alone."

She didn't pretend to not know what he meant. "Can you imagine the names I was called by my own mother?"

"Yes. Mine can hardly stand to look at me."

"But not because of me, Jonah."

"No." His hand softened on her cheek. "Not because of you." His voice roughened. "You know how I feel."

She closed her eyes. "Don't."

"It doesn't go away."

"You won't let it."

"Tia."

He was so close, and he was right, it didn't go away. She looked into his face. "We made a mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake."

"How can you say that, when it destroyed so much?"

He looked away, his jaw rippling. "Please, Jonah. Let this go."

Her cheek felt the loss of his hand. She watched his retreat, thankful and aching. He glanced over once, then got into the truck and pulled away from the curb.

Jonah skidded to a stop outside his cabin and was halfway to the steps when he remembered the coyote. He leaned over the railing, his heart sinking at the empty blankets. Earlier, he and Jay had given her a dose of antibiotics in a lump of meat, and he'd thought it a good sign.

Lights were on inside, and the sound of a saw drifted through the open door. He mounted the stairs, closed the door behind him, and headed toward the noise. The air was frigid inside except in his room where the wood-burning stove blazed and in the back where Jay had plugged in the electric heater.

The whine of the saw wound down. Jay pulled the goggles down around his neck. "You're back."

"She's gone?"

"Not quite."

Jonah followed him to the bedroom door where Jay stopped and motioned him in. Jonah scanned the room, pausing when he saw the eyes. From the depth of his closet, two reddish orbs. "What's this about?"

Jay shrugged. "I gave her the choice of staying or going. Took her two hours to come inside, then she walked directly to your room and claimed the closet."

"How am I supposed to change clothes?" Jonah peeled off the department jacket and hung it on the hook, laid his weapon belt across the dresser, and locked the gun into the drawer safe.

"You work that out with her." Jay went back to work as Jonah removed his shirt and pulled on a wolf gray sweatshirt. He slipped his bare feet into well-worn Birkenstocks and sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating his roommate. "Now what?"

Her lip curled, but she made no sound. When he stood up, her eyes followed him to the doorway. She didn't move. In the kitchen, he sliced off a chunk of steak and bored an antibiotic inside. He approached the closet cautiously, knowing as he crouched that she could rend his throat in a single spring. He set the meat down and backed away. Her eyes never left him.

After he and Jay had finished their meal, he went back to the closet and found the meat gone. He located Jay outside by the glow of his cigarette.

"Thought you only smoked on Sundays."

"Sometimes I make exceptions." He tipped his head to the stars, and his breath blew white.

Jonah jammed his hands into his pockets. "Will she kill me in my sleep?"

Jay shrugged. "If your ticket's punched, you'll ride the train, my grandpa always said."

"I'd rather not have my throat torn out."

"No doubt."

"What if she has to pee?"

"Leave the doors open. She got in. She can get out."

"Anything else can get in too."

Jay shrugged. "Do what you think right."

They both knew he'd leave the door open.

Eleven.

The constantly recurring question must be: What shall we unite with and from what shall we separate?-A. W. TOZER Lucy didn't want her to go, but Liz zipped her coat and gathered salve and the kit that held another injection of sedative. "Don't worry. She's too weak to hurt me."

"Not if you make her better."

"I'll be fine, silly. I just want to make sure her wounds are healing." And her pups are safe And her pups are safe. She didn't say it aloud. It would be a surprise. Two pups from the same litter.

She kissed Lucy's forehead. "You rest and don't worry about me."

She had reached the bedroom door when Lucy said, "Is it the coyote or the police chief you want to see most?"

Liz turned. "The chief has the coyote, honey. Otherwise I'd have no reason to see him."

Lucy searched her face, eyes gulping like fish mouths as she fought tears. "Don't let him take you away."

"Take me away?"

"From me."

She absorbed Lucy's distress. "Nothing can take us from each other. You know that."

Lucy sniffled. "I'm afraid."

"Don't be. Everything is going to be fine."

Tears rolled down Lucy's cheeks. "Promise?"

"Promise."

She drove to the chief's cabin, a good distance from any others. Why was he so remote? Maybe he couldn't afford something closer. She had used funds from those early interviews and two television appearances to buy the animal hospital and house, and it had not come cheap.

Jonah's yard was neat, wood stacked to the roof at one sidewall, holly growing along the porch. Several tall aspen encircled the structure that sat in a clearing of taller pines. A broad creek gushed along the mountainous side of the clearing, transforming the static landscape. Lights were on inside, and the door stood open. Was he expecting someone?

As she approached the cabin, she noted with keen disappointment the empty blankets on the porch. If the animal was gone, she would not receive the pups, and what reason would she have to see Jonah Westfall? Lucy's question sprang into her mind, but she pushed it away. Her flirting had been harmless, silly. And yet ...

She knocked on the door frame. A man who wasn't Jonah came into view and appraised her with one stunning blue and one hazel eye. She'd never seen that trait in a human and realized she was staring.

He said, "Hi," as though used to it.

"I'm Dr. Rainer. I came to see the chief-the coyote. I came to treat the coyote."

"You're the vet."

She nodded, looking over her shoulder at the empty blankets. "Did she die?"

"Relocated."

"Jonah brought her inside?"

"She brought herself." He turned and started walking. Liz took that as an invitation.

They stopped outside a room that was clearly Jonah's. His department jacket hung on a hook beside the door, and the room carried his scent. Her head rushed. She shook herself as Jonah rose up from his knees near the open closet. Tall, rangy in sweatshirt and jeans, he exuded masculinity. As he turned toward Jay, she observed an ease between them that seemed deeper than friendship. No blood tie, obviously. Were they ...

Jay moved aside and Jonah saw her. "Liz."

Her name instead of her t.i.tle sent a frisson down inside her. "I came to check on the coyote."

He looked toward the closet "She's in there?"

"You can't get to her."

"I brought sedative."

"She's calling the shots now-so to speak." He motioned toward the door. "Let's leave her alone." He ushered them into a room with two leather couches and two recliners. Simple but solid wooden tables gleamed with a warm finish, and a stone fireplace with a half-log mantel created a manly place oddly overpopulated with candles.

"Are those from the Half Moon?"

"Yeah. But don't tell."

She raised her brows.

"Long story."

Jay's odd eyes were both watchful and knowing. Protective and intimate.

"How long have you two been ... here?"

The men looked at each other. Something sparked between them that ignited laughter.

Jay said. "You think we're ..." He waved a hand between them. "Together?"

Jonah's brow lowered. "Jay's my sponsor. He saved my life."