Fully Committed

Once he saw she wasn’t capable of drawing, she might be stranded in town if she rode with him.

He was pretty much a jerk. Handsome, with cheekbones so sharp you could cut yourself on them, but still a jerk. And if he thought she didn’t know that he’d just handled her out there—pouring on his considerable charm and bright smile once the intimidation factor didn’t work—then he was well mistaken. She knew she’d been managed; it had happened enough times with her parents for her to recognize the pattern.

The thing was, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to help out Jon or Jasmine Houze—what kind of unfeeling wretch would she be if that was the case?—but she didn’t even think she was capable.

She would try. That was all she could do. All Agent Hatton had asked her to do. They’d see if he still felt that way when the pencil wouldn’t move because of her shivering.

The thought brought on a bout of cold, despite the fact that she didn’t have the air-conditioning running anywhere in the house. Sherry headed to the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, turning the water as hot as it could get without scalding her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay in there long enough to really get warm—that would take so long, Jon would be in here managing her again—but at least it took a little of the edge off, warming the outside of her body if not the inside.

After her shower she dried her hair, which because of its thickness and length took a long time, but she knew better than to go out with it wet in a situation like this: if she got a chill, damp hair would just exacerbate it. She slipped on black jeans and a long-sleeved dark plum sweater and then pulled on her boots. After a touch of makeup—she wanted to look professional, for Jasmine Houze, not Jon Hatton—she grabbed her sketch pad and a set of pencils, and was out the door.

The drive to the hospital went faster than Sherry would’ve liked. She focused on a number of different things: the traffic, the scenery, the number of pickup trucks she could count, anything to keep her from thinking about what was coming up. She didn’t want to be a shivering mess before she even set foot in the hospital.

Sherry had made it through her last two cases with the cold seeming to permeate her. She could make it through questioning one woman who they suspected hadn’t seen anything. But, honestly, whether Jasmine had seen anything would be beside the point. Because either way, Sherry was going to have to walk with the poor woman through the worst day in her entire life.

She sighed as a chill rushed through her. Count pickups now. She’d be dealing with monsters soon enough.

As she found a parking place at the hospital, already having to grit her teeth to keep them from chattering, Sherry’s resolve was firm. She saw Jon standing by the door and she told him, with no holds barred, what was on her mind.

“This one time, Agent Hatton,” she said. “I will talk to Ms. Houze today, but that’s it. I don’t want any further details about the case or the women involved, or anything. You’re going to need to find someone else.”

His eyes narrowed the slightest bit, but then he nodded. “Call me Jon. And I understand. You’re on vacation.”

She was pretty sure he didn’t understand anything. That he thought she was a spoiled brat who didn’t care about anybody but herself. She could admit that bugged her, but she knew she had to take care of herself. Knew she had to find a way of getting past this coldness if she ever hoped to really work as a forensic artist again. Or at this point, to even be able to draw again ever.

Not having her art in her life was not an acceptable compromise.

A little warm, she pushed up her sleeves. At least talking to him had taken care of most of the chill. “That’s right, I’m on vacation.”

Let the jerk think what he wanted. She brushed past him on her way indoors. She was actually relieved to feel the air-conditioning.

“We need anything that Ms. Houze can give us,” Jon told her as they walked down the hall. She noticed he already knew most of the nurses. They waved to him and immediately began whispering to each other. No doubt about the tall, dark-haired, gorgeous agent hallowing their hallways.

Let them have him.

“Anything,” he repeated. “A full description of the perp’s face would, of course, be optimal. But anything at all would be helpful.”

Sherry nodded. “You probably shouldn’t hope for too much.” From me or her.

Jon grimaced. “I know you don’t want to know anything about the case. But we have nothing, Sherry. This guy is really smart. So when I say anything Ms. Houze remembers, I mean anything. No matter how small.”

“I’ll do my best.” As they arrived at Jasmine’s door, Sherry explained how she worked. “I’m going to leave the door open, but I need you not to come inside. With a case like this, and especially after what happened yesterday with Spangler, it’s important for you to stay out. Allow me to build a rapport with her.”

“That’s fine.”

“Even if you feel like it’s going too slowly or I’m asking questions that don’t pertain to the case, you still don’t get to butt in.”

He looked a little affronted at that. Good. That was how she felt every time he muttered the word vacation.

“What I do takes time, so I hope you brought a People magazine or something,” she continued.

He rolled his eyes. “How about if I just listen out here and take notes? I don’t think a gossip magazine will be necessary.”

“Fine. Just don’t interrupt unless it’s an emergency. No matter if you think I’m off target or missing something.”

“I got it. No interruptions. Take as long as you need.”

“She knows I’m coming, right? And that’s okay with her?” After what had happened yesterday, Sherry wouldn’t be surprised if the woman didn’t want to see anyone from law enforcement again.

“Yes, we cleared it with her, although I think she is planning to have a family member in, just in case. I okayed it with the doctor, also, just before you got here.”

“Fine.” She looked at him again. “Just don’t expect too much.”

“Trust me.” Jon’s eyes were tight, frustrated. “Anything you can give us is better than where we are now.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

Sherry was afraid her best wasn’t going to be anywhere near enough. She straightened her shoulders and walked into the room. This wasn’t going to be pretty. But at least she wasn’t cold.

* * *

THREE HOURS LATER Jon sat in the hallway outside Jasmine Houze’s door. Sherry was wrapping it up, he could tell. She and Jasmine were talking about insignificant things: shoes, sales at different stores, favorite place to grab a margarita.

Really more than half of the time Sherry had spent with the woman had been used talking about seemingly insignificant things. Jon understood now why she had warned him not to interrupt. Obviously in the past she had been interrupted by people who thought she should be getting to the root of the issue—the actual drawing—more quickly.

While Jon could see why someone might jump to that conclusion, he wouldn’t have interrupted today even if Sherry had never asked any questions about the attack. She very masterfully built a rapport with Jasmine. There had been nothing fake about it. Every question she had asked seemed sincere.

Jon didn’t really know how well the woman could draw, but she could question a victim as well as, if not better than, many seasoned law-enforcement officers. Not just ones like Spangler who had no business being around victims. Sherry was excellent at what she did.

No wonder her supervisor held her in such high regard. She had patience, sincerity and an easygoing manner. Jon could tell just from hearing her talk. She knew when to press and when to back off. She’d let Ms. Houze tell her story in pieces, as she was ready, not ever forcing it, but gently bringing her back around to the questioning when they got too far off track.

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