Free Conviction of the Heart by Alana Lorens

sure.”
    An edge in Suzanne’s voice stung him. A shot of guilt zinged through him as he admitted, to himself at least, that he might have been overly optimistic about police response. “Come on, Suzanne, you know that was for Morgan’s benefit, warning him not to come back. I can’t promise that a car will park here all night.” Nick shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable to be put on the spot. As much as he believed his gut Morgan was the guilty party. Shadyside wasn’t his division. He probably shouldn’t have spoken for the department. He’d just wanted that smug look to leave Gregory Morgan’s face.
    In his book, career politicians and evangelical preachers shared a status with low-class used car salesmen, phony through and through. Easy enough to handle them. Smile to their face, and as soon as possible, wash the hand that just shook their slimy one. Something about Morgan had never rung true, but Nick knew the man had cachet with the higher ups. He’d probably hear about this.
    When he didn’t answer, Suzanne eyed him, her expression conveying disappointment. “At least the police respond to calls in this neighborhood within a reasonable time,” she said tartly. “Otherwise, I guess they can be as useless as the rest of the system.” She closed her car door, almost before he could step out of the way. He watched her pull out of the driveway, compelled to give her a half-hearted wave, but she didn’t look back.
    What the hell did she want? He’d known she could handle the legal end, and it seemed like she had it all in order. He had dropped everything to help serve the papers when she called. He couldn’t exactly post an officer on this woman’s front yard, even if her husband was a crazy bastard.
    Annoyed, he stalked to his car, his neck muscles pulling tight. He gunned the engine, backing out onto the street faster than he should have, narrowly missing a pair of empty garbage cans on the lawn across the street. Calm down, Nick. You can’t afford a new bumper.
    He headed back to the station, discontent percolating in the back of his mind.
    But the picture that kept returning to his mind was Suzanne’s face, at the height of her game, mano a mano with Greg Morgan, challenging him with the depths of her soul. She wasn’t in the least afraid of a man who was clearly dangerous. The flash of her eye, the straight line of her back, the stance like the proverbial mother lion protecting a helpless cub all revealed something fiery in her soul, someone he admired and wanted to know intimately.
    What could he do to get her attention?
    ****
    Two days passed before Nick got his head far enough above water at work to call her. He’d been right that departmental feathers would be ruffled by his appearance in Shadyside, but he’d staved off the worst of it with a personal call to Phillip Johnson, his counterpart. He’d explained what happened, and Phil shrugged it off. Cops did what they had to at any given moment. They all understood that.
    He’d arrived home late before he’d decided to call her. Eight o’clock on a weeknight? She had teenagers. Plenty early enough.
    His fingers stuttered clumsily on the face of his cell phone as he tried to dial the number he’d saved when she’d called him. The third time, he got it right, silently cursing the fact she made him so nervous.
    How many casual dates had he arranged without so much as a second thought?
    But something about Suzanne Taylor set his insides twisting.
    He turned off the lights in his small living room and opened the sliding glass doors to the wooden deck that ran the length of his half of the side-by-side duplex. He’d owned the building on the outskirts of McKees Rocks for nine years. The tenant in the other half, an older woman who taught junior high school, paid rent that covered the mortgage. The arrangement worked for him.
    He leaned on the rail on the deck’s edge and looked up at the stars, spotting the