Reflection Point

chapter TWO





“Well, fiddle,” Savannah muttered, using her grandmother’s most wicked curse, as she scowled at the pouch. She couldn’t leave it lying there. It wasn’t completely empty. Besides, she wanted it for a keepsake. But did she want it enough to climb out onto the rock?

Great. Just freaking great. At some point the breeze would certainly blow it off the ledge and it would fall to the ground. Where it would lie. And rot.

“Damn.” She glanced around for a stick or something else she could use to retrieve it, even as a gust of wind scooted it closer to the edge of the ledge.

Savannah watched the bag and knew she should let it go. It was only a bag. The ashes were ashes, the dust was dust.

She wanted it.

She gripped the railing and swung one leg and then the other over it. Without loosening her hold on the iron rail, she started to sink to her knees, planning to stretch for the bag’s blue ribbon tie while keeping herself safely anchored to the ground.

Two things happened simultaneously. When the breeze scooped up the bag and sent it scooting toward the edge of the rock, Savannah reacted instinctively, lunging toward it.

And something clamped around her wrist.

Savannah let out a startled scream. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Her gaze remained locked on the bag as it skittered toward the drop-off even as the vise around her arm yanked her backward.

She banged into the railing, and pain shot from her hip. Then she felt herself lifted and thrown backward in a fireman’s carry. Her breath whooshed out as her diaphragm hit a broad, hard shoulder. For a moment Savannah was too stunned to struggle, too shocked to be afraid, but then a flashback to something that had happened when she was eighteen burst into her mind.

She’d been picking wildflowers in a high meadow above her grandmother’s homestead when a big, burly, smelly mountain man emerged from the trees. The ratty jumpsuit he wore identified him as a prisoner, most likely someone who had walked off a road crew. He’d grabbed her and carried her toward the trees, his talk nasty and promising rape.

On that day she’d used her intellect and her knowledge of the mountain to escape before any real harm could be done to her. Now, while she didn’t know this mountain, she still had her brain. Plus she’d learned a whole new set of survival skills during those six lost years. She could fight dirty when necessary.

Only a handful of seconds had passed since the stranger had grabbed her up and started toting her away from Lover’s Leap, away from the keepsake bag. As she gathered herself to struggle, she felt her captor lean forward. Her body began to slip. Her butt landed hard on top of the picnic bench, and she looked up into a pair of aviator sunglasses.

He stood well over six feet tall in a spread-legged, aggressive stance, wearing faded jeans and an unbuttoned blue-plaid flannel shirt over a tight white T-shirt. Reaching up, he lifted the sunglasses off a straight blade of a nose to reveal piercing blue eyes. But it wasn’t his movie-star good looks with those mesmerizing eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and sexy five o’clock shadow that made her mouth go dry.

The gun holstered at his waist managed that.

The moment Zach spied the leggy blonde climbing the barrier meant to block access to the ledge of rock that had given Lover’s Leap its name, his heart lodged in his throat. He’d had a jumper in February and one in March. Be damned if he’d allow it to go three for three.

So he’d acted, moving silently forward so as not to startle her, not breathing freely until he’d clamped his hand around her wrist and managed to cart her away from danger’s edge.

Once he had her over his shoulder he allowed his temper to flare. Life was precious. More than once he’d watched someone he loved fight for one more day of life in the face of terminal illness. Suicide totally pissed him off. It was the selfish act of a coward.

He toted the woman to the picnic bench, where he set her down a little roughly and demanded, “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t haul you off in handcuffs.”

Her jaw came up. Brown eyes snapped with temper. “Excuse me?”

With those two words he heard the slow, sexy heat of the Deep South in her voice. He’d always been a sucker for a true southern accent, so his temper flared even hotter imagining it ending in a splat at the bottom of the cliff. What a waste.

With his blood still pumping, his heart continuing to pound from the scare she’d given him moments before, he snarled, “Don’t try to give me BS about attempted suicide not being illegal.”

“Suicide! Listen, mister—”

“I don’t have to charge you with that,” he interrupted. “I can start with reckless endangerment. Add in cruelty to animals, too. You were going to leave the poor dog tied to the picnic table to die of thirst?”

“You think I was going to jump?”

Judging by the scathing note in her tone, she might as well have added the words “you idiot.”

Okay, so maybe he’d been wrong.

Nevertheless, climbing over the guardrail made her criminally stupid. It was too easy to imagine a strong gust of wind blowing her off the rock to her death. Dead was dead, no matter if through accidental death or by suicide. Both pissed Zach off.

As he opened his mouth to identify himself, her gaze shifted past him and she gasped. Zach turned to see the peach-colored bag with blue ribbons blow off the rock and sail away into nothing. Had I not happened along, that could have been her body, not just the bag. “Guess I can add littering in there, too.”

“Grams!” She shoved down off the table and took two steps toward the ledge before Zach caught hold of her arm and held her back.

The woman whirled on him, a touch of panic added to the anger in her eyes. “It’s gone. She’s gone.”

She’s gone? Zach recalled his first sight of the woman. She’d been inching her way along the ledge, her arm outstretched toward that bag. “What was in the bag?”

“Not what. Who. I wasn’t going to jump, you idiot,” she claimed, her molasses tone scathing. “I was spreading my grandmother’s ashes and lost hold of the bag.”

Not a jumper. Just a fool. “Did you have a permit for that?”

She folded her arms and scowled. “Who are you?”

Zach didn’t wear his uniform while fishing on his day off, but he always carried a weapon and his badge. He pulled the shield from his back pocket and flipped the worn leather folder open. “Sheriff Zach Turner. May I see some identification, ma’am?”

She momentarily closed her eyes and her lips formed a silent oath. At her reaction, Zach stifled a grin.

When finally she looked at him, she did so through narrowed eyes. “It’s not illegal to spread human ashes in Colorado. You can hire a pilot and plane to do it. I couldn’t afford that, so I did this instead.”

“We have a local ordinance against that, ma’am. Your driver’s license, please?”

She held his stare for a long moment. He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind until suddenly tears welled in her big brown eyes. “It was all I had of her … the bag … I wanted to keep it. A keepsake. Oh, Grams.”

Her obvious sadness stirred every chivalrous atom in his DNA to life, and when the tears overflowed, a ridiculous offer to climb down the sheer cliff and retrieve her bag hovered on his tongue. Zach wore the thrill-seeker label proudly and carried climbing gear in his truck at all times, but descending the sheer rock face from Lover’s Leap wasn’t done on a whim. He wasn’t a man ordinarily manipulated by tears, and he didn’t like the idea that it was happening now. His voice gruff, he began, “Listen, lady—”

“Savannah. My name is Savannah.”

Ah. He put the clues together. “Savannah Sophia Moore. You’re the new girl in town. The soap maker.”

A wary look entered her eyes.

“My friends mentioned you,” he explained. “You’re the talk of Eternity Springs.”

“I am?”

“New resident and business owner. It’s great for the tax base.”

Now that he wasn’t busy saving her from suicide or drowning in her eyes, he understood why Nic and the others had been quick to mention her to him. The woman was gorgeous.

Long, thick lashes framed those spectacular brown eyes. Her hair was a just-out-of-bed sexy blond tousle, and her cheekbones were high and her lips full. Then there was that Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue build. Seriously gorgeous, seriously hot. A true Georgia peach any man would like to pick.

Once again she cast a sorrowful gaze toward the point. “Sarah Murphy told me about this place. I’ve hardly encountered any red tape as I’ve settled into Eternity Springs, so it never occurred to me that I’d need a permit for today’s private matter.” Wiping away the tears, she added, “My grandmother raised me after my mother died. We were very close. Losing her has broken my heart. I’m afraid I didn’t think things through properly.”

Now Zach felt like a heel. “Don’t worry about the permit. Just promise me you won’t disregard warning signs or climb over guardrails or do anything else reckless, and we’ll call it a wash.”

“Thank you. And you don’t have to worry about me, Sheriff. I have absolutely no intention of doing anything to cause you further concern.”

He was distracted from the vehement note in her voice by the power of the smile that accompanied the thank-you. It was sunshine giving birth to a rainbow in the aftermath of a violent storm. The beauty of it, of her, took his breath away.

He stared at her, suddenly tongue-tied. All his usual masculine confidence and swagger disappeared beneath a flood of bashfulness. He felt like a high school freshman trying to talk to the senior girl he had a crush on.

He shoved his hands into his pockets but managed to stop himself from rocking back and forth on his heels.

Her gaze returned to the point, and she spoke in a wistful tone. “I suppose it would be impossible for me to locate my bag from below.”

Zach was more familiar than he’d have liked with the section of the Double R Ranch that lay below Lover’s Leap because he had to deal with the bodies of the jumpers. “It would take a miracle, I’m afraid. It’s possible to predict where heavy things fall, but something as light as that drawstring bag … no telling how far the wind carried it.”

Savannah’s teeth tugged at her full lower lip as she sighed. “I’m detail-oriented, and I thought I had everything planned out. The bag was a sentimental choice but a poor one. I’ll simply have to live with it.”

“The land in the valley below belongs to a rancher friend of mine. I’ll put out the word for his people to keep an eye out for it.”

“Again, thank you for your assistance, Sheriff. I apologize for keeping you from whatever you were doing when you decided I needed rescue.”

“Fishing. It’s my day off, and I’ve been fishing a little lake not far from here. Didn’t have much luck, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame.” She glanced toward the parking area, where an old Ford Taurus was the lone car parked. “I didn’t see another vehicle when I arrived.”

The Taurus surprised him. He’d have expected something flashier—and more expensive—from a woman with her million-dollar looks. “My truck’s back in the trees. I fished the creek before I climbed to the lake.”

“I see. Well, don’t let me keep you, Sheriff. I’m going to gather up my basket and my dog and return to town. I promise to dispose of all my litter and properly observe all traffic signs on the way. I’ll be the poster child for law-abiding citizens of Eternity Springs.”

If she wanted to be an Eternity Springs poster child, then the Chamber of Commerce people should tag her for tourist brochures. She was every bit as beautiful as the photo of sailboats on Hummingbird Lake that they currently used. Jeez, Turner, keep this line of thought up and next thing you know you’ll be spouting sonnets.

“We’re always happy to have more law-abiding residents. Welcome to Eternity Springs, Savannah. If there is anything I can do to help you settle in, just let me know. My office is on Cottonwood Street.”

“Thank you.”

She bent to pick up her dog, and he couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he turned to go. He was halfway to his truck before he realized he’d walked off without the gear he’d dropped when he believed he had another jumper on his hands.

Zach felt like an idiot. It wasn’t like him to let a woman throw him off stride this way. Honestly, Savannah Moore wasn’t that much more gorgeous than Inga, and he’d never gone stupid over the ski instructor.

Had she noticed that he’d walked off without his stuff? How could he retrieve it without looking like a fool? “Good luck with that,” he muttered.

He could leave it and return for it later. Were it not his new fly rod …

Turning around, he trudged back toward Lover’s Leap, completely annoyed with himself and casting about for an excuse he could give. He finally decided that the best excuse was no excuse. He would simply stroll back to where his gear lay and act like he’d intended to walk off without his stuff. Let her think what she would.

But as he approached the point, the sound of her voice had him slowing his steps. As a former undercover cop, he had plenty of experience at eavesdropping, and even though he knew doing so now bordered on stalking, he did it anyway.

“… moved to Mayberry. I was hoping for Andy Taylor, but instead I get clueless Barney Fife. It’s scary to think someone like that is allowed to carry a gun.”

Zach stopped abruptly. Barney Fife? Did that woman just call me Barney Fife?

“And he was a bit of a perv, spreading his hand all over my butt when he carried me …”

A pervert? She’s calling me a pervert, too? I was saving her life!

“… and he kept checking out my chest.”

Okay, he pleaded guilty there, but what did she expect when she wore a scoop-neck top that teased him by gaping? And who the hell was she talking to, anyway?

Mouth set in a firm line, he shifted off the path and made his way quietly forward until he could see her and verify that no one had joined her. She must be talking to the dog. Or to herself.

She rolled a yellow tennis ball, and as her dog bounded after it, she continued, “A sheriff. I guess there is something to the whole long-arm-of-the-law thing. I flee to the middle of freaking nowhere, but I can’t get away from it. Isn’t that just my luck? Some people go their whole lives without having run-ins with the law. Not me. Oh, no. I’m plagued by police. They are the bane of my existence. Every time I turn around, I run into a cop. Or like today, a cop runs into me. Literally.”

The dog pounced on the ball, then plopped down on her belly and started chewing at it. Savannah snapped her fingers. “Bring the ball back, Inny.”

When the dog ignored her, Zach smirked.

She sighed and strolled over to wrestle the ball away from the mutt. “He should be charged with police brutality. I’m going to have a bruise where his bony shoulder poked my belly.”

She rolled the ball again while muttering indistinctly, so the only word he picked up was “manhandler.” Zach scowled. That was plenty enough to hear. Ungrateful witch.

The dog started toward the tennis ball but suddenly veered away on a scent. As she dashed into the trees opposite him and Savannah chased after her, Zach saw his chance and hurried to retrieve his rod and tackle box. Five minutes later, he climbed into his truck and twisted the key in the ignition with more force than was necessary.

He was pissed. He didn’t expect every woman who crossed his path to like him, but the truth was that most all of them did. Female acquaintances viewed him favorably, and some of his closest friends were women. He’d never had trouble getting dates. He remained on good terms with most of his former lovers. He liked women. Women liked him.

And, dammit, he was a good cop! Barney Fife, my ass, he thought.

So what put the pit in the Georgia peach?

He mentally reviewed their exchange, attempting to pinpoint the moment when her mood went cold. As he braked to a stop at the intersection to the main road into town, he figured it out. The woman had bristled when he’d identified himself and asked for her ID.

“Well, well, well,” Zach murmured. Savannah Sophia Moore had a secret.

Guess he’d just have to put on his detective hat and discover what it was.