Chapter One

"If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts..."

The Counting Crows sang about Mrs Potter and her lullaby as Riley Rafferty stared at his desk and the office that surrounded it.

His last day at work.

Feels like the last day of my life.

He flipped through the files on his desk, each page causing him to relive that particular case and how it had affected his life. He liked to pretend that each case he worked, each life he saved or took, didn’t matter.

But they did. They all did, and they all took their toll.

He’d known that when he’d taken the job. And he’d managed to be okay with it, for the most part, during his waking hours. However, he couldn’t suppress the dreams, dreams in which past cases, victims, survivors, came back to haunt him. The cry of a kidnapped child. The staring eyes of a corpse.

Still, a pill or two had chased the dreams to the edge of his mind.

Until now. Until he’d made a mistake on a case. A mistake he knew he’d never stop reliving at night.

So it was time to leave. Time to close his own file. The end of his time with the FBI. The end of an era.

He was going to trade in his two-piece suit and Glock 22 for a shiny gold star and possibly a white Stetson. The corner of Riley’s mouth turned up with wry humour. Okay, maybe lose the Stetson.

A position had opened for a Sheriff in the small town of Three Oaks, Texas, population eight-hundred and eighty-six. Seven once Riley arrived in town.

Riley pushed back from his desk and crossed to the window, shoving his hands in the pockets of the charcoal grey suit trousers he wore. He stared through the glass for what seemed like hours, looking but not really seeing. It was the last time he’d see this particular view from this particular window.

He cast his mind back a few days. He’d been on administrative leave, which was common after what he’d experienced on his last case. He’d made out that he was looking forward to it, joking about watching TV and playing basketball all day, but really, he’d dreaded it, and it hadn’t done him any good. It had just been more time to think about recent events.

He’d almost fallen to his knees to thank God himself when the phone had rung. It was Alan Siddall, the Assistant Director in Charge of the Los Angeles field office Riley worked at. They’d talked about Riley’s last case. Riley was honest about how it had affected him, and Alan had offered a change of pace.

The offer of a position in Three Oaks had surprised Riley more than it should have.

Riley had been there before, almost three years earlier, partnered with an agent from a Texas office for a case. They had been investigating a sighting of a known fugitive, operating undercover to try and get him to reveal himself. Unfortunately, events had taken a sour turn and Riley and his partner had found themselves dealing with a hostage situation. Everyone had gotten out alive, after the specially trained Hostage Rescue Team had arrived in time.

Riley recalled the bravery of the two women who’d been taken hostage. Their resilience and their quick thinking.

And the FBI had won the day. The fugitive would have many, many years to consider his action behind bars. And the women, both of them, were fine.

Riley pushed back from the window.

It didn’t always work out with winning the day.

He glanced at the serviceable clock on his desk. In less than forty-eight hours, he’d be headed for Texas. He’d be seeing the residents of Three Oaks again. He’d find out how the hostages, Anna Beale and Grace Cutter, were coping three years on. They had seemed to be making a full recovery when he’d left, but sometimes trauma made itself known years later, having been subconsciously buried.

He thought that Anna would be pleased to see him. She was quiet but steady, always friendly, always calm.

But Grace….

He’d first met Grace when he and his partner Lewis had arrived in town. They’d stopped at the only bakery in town, and he’d seen Grace in the window. She was like a little beam of sunshine, all long blonde hair, blue eyes, a ready smile. Riley had felt his heart turn over in his chest at the sight of her. The cakes they’d purchased, which she informed them she’d baked herself, only made him more enamoured of her.

Riley wasn’t the first agent to become infatuated with someone while on a case, and he would not be the last. But while he’d come away from the case relatively normal, what had happened that fortnight in Three Oaks had changed Grace Cutter forever.

She was fine. Fine in that all her body parts worked and she could speak and eat and sleep and work.

But gone was that beam of sunlight inside her. Grace, poor Grace, who was kind and sensitive and sweet, hadn’t deserved to have a gun held to her head. She hadn’t deserved being bound up and smacked around the face, all because she and Anna had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Before leaving Three Oaks, Riley had stopped by her house to say goodbye. And had ended up saying, and doing, a lot more.

His mouth twisted into a grimace. Oh, he had a very personal reason for taking the job in Three Oaks.

Riley was a realistic man. He did not expect to begin a relationship with Grace. But he wanted to see her again. He longed to know if the spark of sunshine within her had been rejuvenated.

He sure hoped so.

v-v-v-v-v-v

Riley settled in for the two hour flight to Houston, Texas. He flipped through the magazine in the back pocket of the seat before him, but he wasn’t concentrating and quickly lost interest.

His travel clothes – a smart black jacket over a short-sleeved pale blue dress shirt and jeans, felt odd. Riley had become so used to living in his work suit that anything else juts felt, well, kinda wrong.

For what might’ve been the first time, he told himself he would do him good to get out of the FBI.

And Alan had stressed that a position would always be held should he want to come back. Riley closed his eyes and thought of last night’s dream – or rather, nightmare. He swallowed hard. He didn’t know if he could go back to the FBI again.

Alan was a fair boss, Riley mused as he looked out of the window, where airport staff were finishing up loading baggage on to the plane.

He had offered Riley three options. First, and most obviously, quit and find another profession. Riley had discounted that right away – law enforcement was all he knew how to do.

Second, take a desk job in the Bureau. Again, Riley had considered it, but it just wasn’t for him. Pushing paper wasn’t what he imagined himself doing.

The third option had been Three Oaks. The lure of a quiet town, plus the prospect of seeing Grace, had been a winner.

He wondered if he’d be bored. Three Oaks was very small, and it really seemed as if they had just been unlucky. The fugitive had picked Three Oaks to hide in because it was small and inconspicuous. Before he’d shown up, hardly anything of note had happened, besides a few day-to-day disturbances: one or two domestics, perhaps a fire, a child fallen in a lake.

For the people’s sake, and for Grace’s, Riley hoped the town was that way now. Small. Happy. Quiet.

Two stewardesses began the safety demonstration, and the plane began to taxi out of the airport. Riley said a silent goodbye to Los Angeles, and wondered, not for the first time, if it was telling that all his belongings had fitted into two large suitcases.

It was a sign, he supposed, that he hadn’t really settled in anywhere; always keeping one foot on the ground in case he wanted to leave.

It was the same with his friends. He had them, and he’d met them for a farewell drink, but they weren’t people he would be comfortable telling his deep, dark thoughts and feelings to. The only person he’d shared anything deep with had been…

Grace Cutter.

His thoughts had drifted to her much more than usual lately, because he knew he’d be seeing her soon. When he was awake, he was occupied with day to day activities, and didn’t think too deeply about what had happened between them.

But at night, when his subconscious was in control…

Sometimes she entered his dreams and made him wake with a raging hard-on. For her. Only for her.

Did she think about him, dream about him, and wake up horny, too? He shook his head, irritated with himself. Of course not. They were miles apart. Grace had a life. Maybe she had a husband or a boyfriend now. Maybe she had a family.

He settled back into his seat as the plane left the ground and soared into the air. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed flying.

His eyes closed and he thought about his two-level apartment. That was something he’d be sad to lose. It had sold for a good price – almost six thousand dollars more than he had originally paid for it – but he’d miss it.

The position of Sheriff came with a small house. Riley hadn’t seen it and his mind wandered off, wondering what it was like. When he’d been in Three Oaks, he had met the Sheriff, but there had been no opportunity or reason to see his residence.

An hour fell away as the plane flew on, and Riley made his way to the small on-flight bathroom. It was bright white inside, and Riley winced at the reflection that greeted him from the bathroom mirror. He looked tired. There were smudges under his eyes, and his dark blonde hair was tousled. A few short strands hung limply over his forehead. He leaned closed to the mirror, examining his light green eyes. They didn’t look too bad, not bloodshot; maybe he hadn’t slept as badly as he had imagined.

He used the facilities and then returned to his seat. Outside, the clouds were fluffy and white, and Riley watched them drift by, letting his mind relax. He checked the rolex he wore. Half an hour until touchdown in Texas. He’d catch a cab to the car rental office where Alan had arranged a car for him. He’d buy one when and if he settled into the Sheriff position.

If. It sure was a damned big if.

The captain announced that the flight would land soon, and Riley did as the fasten seatbelt sign suggested. He leaned back in his seat as the plane descended, peering out of the window to watch the scenery get slowly closer.

The landing was smooth. Around him, children and adults chattered about their vacations, their penpals, their business trips. One kid appeared to be singing about seeing his Granma again and eating her cookies.

Looking at the child made Riley’s mind snap to his recent case, and he quickly looked away.

Don’t think about it. Put it away for now.

It was bad enough that the case, the mistake, the guilt, dogged him at night when he slept. He did not need it during the day as well.

Riley tried to clear his mind as he queued to step off the plane. Indulging in his thoughts for a moment, he wished for things to return to how they had been a few months ago. When he’d still been a black-and-white guy. Right or wrong. High or low.

Now, he had discovered that there were many shades of grey in between.

He wondered if that was what had happened to Grace. Perhaps she’d been so happy because she had never experienced anything outside every day tribulations.

Until she’d had a gun shoved against her head. That would certainly change a person’s point of view on the world.

Riley couldn’t deny the little surge of excitement he felt at the prospect of seeing her again. Married or whatever, he just wanted to know his Grace, the sunny, bubbly Grace he’d known, was back in action.

And what if she’s not?

I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

He breezed through airport security and waited to collect his suitcases at the conveyor. He spied them quickly, and once again wondered what the bags said about his life.

That’s right, my life, all stuffed into two lousy suitcases.

He hadn’t lived that much, he supposed – and what he had experienced had been through work.

The FBI was your life, buddy. How the hell are you going to cope with missing cats, uncollected trash, and domestic disturbances?

He made his way to the line of cabs outside the terminal, and gave the driver the rental car place address.

I can do this. I can do this.

If it turned out he couldn’t, Alan would always keep a desk job open for him at the Bureau. But desk surfing made him more uncomfortable than enforcing the law in Small Town, USA.

The cab driver didn’t speak much, and that was just fine with Riley. He wasn’t in a chatty mood right now. He just wanted to reach his house and settle in. Tomorrow he’d meet the townsfolk again; this time he would be introduced as the new Sheriff. The special reception would be held in the town hall. He needed to be prepared for that. He couldn’t be tired, grouchy, hot and uncomfortable.

He wondered how he was going to do his working out now. Los Angeles was crawling with gyms – no shortage of punching bags, treadmills or bench presses.

Three Oaks didn’t have a gym. But it did have an awful lots of hills. And space. Riley guessed he’d be doing his future workouts in the form of morning runs.

The cab pulled up at the car rental place. Riley paid and thanked the driver, telling him he’d sort out the luggage. He hefted the suitcases from the trunk, and headed towards the door of the car rental office to pick up whatever vehicle Alan had decided was suitable.

He wasn’t disappointed. Alan had arranged a small Toyota truck. It was black and shiny. Riley almost fell in love there and then.

It was an easy drive to Three Oaks, partially due to the truck’s built-in navigation system and partially because Riley vaguely remembered the way to the town.

He passed a sign pointing out the town and its population. He mentally added one, and found himself smiling as the strong summer breeze fluttered in through the truck’s open window.

As he reached the Sheriff’s house, on the outskirts of town, he slowed the car to admire the view from the window.

Well, pal, here we are. Day one of your new life starts now.