"You like it," she repeated.
"It'd look good in the parlor, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, I had it down as a possibility."
"Send it over with the couch thing. Is this the Pembroke here?"
All she could do was nod weakly. When he left, an hour later, she was still nodding.
Rafe headed straight to the sheriff's office. He'd have to put in a couple of hours overtime on the job, but he wasn't leaving town until he knew Joe Dolin was in a cage.
When he stepped inside, he found Devin tilted back in his chair, his feet propped on his battered metal desk. Devin's uniform consisted of a cotton shirt, faded jeans and boots worn down at the heel. His only concession to his position was the star on his chest.
He was reading a dog-eared copy of The Grapes of Wrath.
"And you're responsible for law and order in this town."
In his slow, deliberate way, Devin marked his place and set the book aside. "That's what they tell me. Always got a cell waiting for you."
"If you've got Dolin in one, I wouldn't mind you putting me in with him for five minutes or so."
"He's back there."
With a nod, Rafe walked to the coffeemaker. "Have any trouble with him?"
Devin's lips curved in a lazy and wicked smile. "Just enough to make it fun. I'll have a cup of that."
"How long can you keep him in there?"
"That's not up to me."
Devin reached out for the chipped mug Rafe offered. Since he insisted on making the coffee himself, it was the MacKade brew. Hot, strong and black as night.
"We'll transfer him to Hagerstown," Devin went on. "He'll get himself a public defender. If Cassie doesn't back down, he'll have his day in court."
Rafe sat on the corner of the cluttered desk. "You think she'll back down?"
Fighting frustration, Devin shrugged. "This is the closest she's ever come to doing anything about things. The son of a bitch has been pounding on her for years. Probably started on her on their wedding night. She can't weigh more than a hundred pounds. Got bones like a bird." His usually calm eyes went molten. "She's got bruises around her throat where he choked her."
"I didn't see that."
"I got pictures."
After rubbing a hand over his face, Devin dropped his feet to the floor. Tussling with Joe, slapping cuffs on him, along with a few bruises—in the line of duty— hadn't taken the edge off.
"I had to take her statement, and pictures for evidence, and she sat there looking at me like she was getting beat up all over again. God knows how she'll handle it if she has to go to court and lay it all out."
Abruptly he pushed away from his desk, paced to the window, where he could look out on town. He'd given his word to serve the town, protect its citizens. Not to relieve his own bitter frustrations by pummeling one of them into the ground.
"I gave her the standard lines," he continued. "Therapy, counseling, shelters. And I put just enough pressure on when she started to waffle, so she'd sign the complaint. She just sat there crying, and I felt like scum."
Rafe studied his coffee, frowned. "You still have a thing for her, Dev?"
"That was high school," Devin snapped. With an effort, he uncurled his fist, turned back to his brother.
They might have been twins, with barely a year separating them. The same bold, dark looks, rangy build. Only Devin's eyes were cooler, more like moss than jade. And the scars he carried were on his heart.
"Sure I care about her," he said, calm again. "Hell, Rafe, we've known her all our lives. I've hated watching what he's been doing to her, not being able to stop it. Every time I got called out to their place, every time she had a fresh bruise, she'd just say it was an accident."