*
LIAM DROVE SLOWLY down the long, narrow county highway. Half of his awareness was absorbed by the unpleasant errand that brought him out there, the other half searched the sides of the road for any signs of a lost child, more out of obsessive habit than any conscious intention. His tortoise pace, born of reluctance as much as caution, and that constant, darting sideways glance, were the only reasons he saw the motorcycle at all.
A glint of something foreign and metallic caught in his headlights in the increasing dusk gloom, and he pulled over as much as was possible on a road that barely fit two cars side by side. Wildflowers brushed the passenger side, leaving smeary golden kisses along the neat blue paint. Flashers sending crimson warning signals into the night, he opened the door of the cruiser and walked over to examine his find more closely.
The air whooshed out of his lungs as if he’d been sucker-punched when he recognized the mangled remains of Baba’s classic BMW. The lack of an equally damaged body was somewhat reassuring, although he fetched a flashlight from the car and searched for any signs of a wounded woman staggering around, lost and confused. When he didn’t find her, he called in to dispatch to find out if the accident had been reported or if Baba had turned up at the local hospital. Two negatives later, he put in a call to Bob at the auto shop, then got back in his squad car to go look for her.
No more than three minutes later, the glow from his headlights picked out a limping figure moving determinedly in the direction of the clearing where the Airstream was parked. This time he didn’t even bother to pull over, just eased to a stop and opened the passenger door.
“Good evening,” he said cordially.
“The hell it is,” Baba retorted, scowling into the dim recesses of the car. “It’s a lousy evening, in fact.”
Liam smothered a relieved laugh. She sounded too grumpy to be seriously injured. “I know. I saw your bike a little way down the road. Are you hurt? It looked like you took one heck of a spill.”
She gave an abortive shrug, stopping the move in midmotion and clutching her elbow. “I’m fine. But my poor motorcycle is a mess.” It looked as though even saying the words pained her, although that might have been the elbow. With Baba, it was hard to tell.
“Get in,” Liam said. “I’ll drive you the rest of the way.” When she looked as though she was going to argue, he added, “I needed to talk to you anyway.” And at her deepening glower, “I know, I know—I promised you three days. But something’s come up. Now get in the damned car before I get out and throw you in.”
“You and what army?” the cloud-haired woman muttered. But she slid into the seat, suppressing a wince as she did so.
When they pulled up in front of the trailer a couple of minutes later, she hauled herself out of the squad car and shuffled lopsidedly toward the front door before he could even try to help her. Liam heaved a sigh and followed her in. Chudo-Yudo sauntered over to meet them, sniffing at Baba’s ruined pants and whining. She said something in Russian and the dog barked a couple of times. It sounded for all the world like they were having a conversation.
“Hello, Chudo-Yudo,” Liam said, not wanting to be left out. Besides, if she wouldn’t let him be nice to her, maybe he could get a couple of brownie points being nice to her dog. “How are you tonight?”
Chudo-Yudo sniffed him too, then licked his hand and woofed enthusiastically.
“At least your dog likes me,” he said to Baba, trying to check out the damage without being obvious about it. If he had to, he’d haul her to the emergency room, but something told him he’d need the cuffs to do it.
Baba rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t bet on it. He just thinks you smell like hamburger.”
He’d grabbed fast food on the way out here, but how could—ah. “Very funny. You saw the empty takeout bag in the car. Nice one, though. You almost had me believing you had a talking dog.”
“He’s not a talking dog,” Baba muttered. “He’s a talking dragon that looks like a dog. That’s much more unusual.” She hobbled to the sink and got a glass of water, wincing a little when it touched a cut on her lip.
Liam ignored her silliness. She was clearly trying to distract him. Or maybe she had a concussion. He eyed her intently. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”