Page 15 of Sweet Deal (Honeysuckle, Texas #4)

Rachel leaned toward the dresser mirror, carefully applying lipstick. Satisfied, she reached for her small pearl earrings—professional but not flashy, perfect for an impromptu visit to the county health department.

Over the last several days, they had settled into a strange yet comfortable rhythm of married life. Shared breakfasts, brief touches as they passed each other or sat together at mealtime, and—most important—careful navigation of the bathroom schedule. It was all so… domestic.

She fastened the second earring just as the click of the bathroom door opening made her turn.

Jim emerged a towel slung low on his hips, another one vigorously rubbing his damp hair.

Water droplets clung to his broad shoulders and chest. Rachel’s mouth went suddenly dry.

She swallowed hard, willing herself not to smudge her freshly applied lipstick.

He looked… good. Too good for seven in the morning.

“Sorry.” The amusement in his eyes suggested he wasn’t entirely sorry at all. “Forgot to grab my underwear.”

“No problem.” Despite the sudden flutter in her stomach, her voice sounded impressively steady. She moved slightly to the side, giving him access to the dresser while steadfastly keeping her eyes on her own reflection.

Jim reached past her for his clothes, his arm briefly brushing hers.

The casual contact—skin against skin—sent a ripple of awareness through her that was anything but casual.

The second towel now draped around his neck, he held an armful of clothes and paused in the bathroom doorway, looking at her over his shoulder. “Isn’t today your work-from-home day?”

She nodded, turning back to the mirror to fuss with an earring that didn’t need fussing.

“Yes, but I haven’t been able to get anywhere with the county health department over that case I told you about, the one that’s escalating.

I thought if I showed up in person, maybe I could actually get something done.

” She picked up her purse. “And while I’m in the city, maybe do a little window shopping. Clear my head.”

Jim leaned against the door jamb, his eyes never leaving hers. “Want some company?”

The offer caught her by surprise. “For real?”

“Why not? There’s nothing pressing on my work schedule today. Could be nice to get out of the house for a bit.”

Rachel hesitated. She’d been mentally preparing herself for a potentially frustrating morning of bureaucracy and red tape. Having Jim there would be… a complication. Or a comfort. Maybe both. “I could be waiting for hours. These government offices aren’t exactly known for their efficiency.”

Jim shrugged, the movement causing the towel to slip slightly lower on his hips. Rachel quickly averted her eyes.

“Then we can wait together,” he shrugged simply. He pushed off the door jamb and walked towards the closet. “Give me five minutes to find something that doesn’t scream bruised ribs and impending doom.”

She watched him go, a small smile playing on her lips. He really was something else. Giving in, she nodded, more to herself than to him. “Okay, Henderson. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Twenty minutes later, they were in Jim’s car heading toward the county seat.

Rachel had her case files balanced on her lap, reviewing notes and mentally preparing for the meeting she hoped to have.

The Torres case had been weighing on her heavily—seventeen-year-old Michael struggling with schizophrenia, substance abuse issues, and a recent expulsion from his group home.

His mother Maria was at her wit’s end, especially concerned about Michael’s younger sister Lily.

“You’re worried about this one more than the others, aren’t you?” Jim glanced her way, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Rachel nodded, not looking up from her notes. “When mental health and the system fail these kids, it’s usually the families who bear the brunt. And sometimes…”

“Sometimes it gets dangerous,” Jim finished for her, his gaze narrowed, focused on the road ahead, but the tightness in his jaw reflected his intensity and had nothing to do with the road and everything to do with her and this troubled family.

“Yeah.” She closed the folder with a sigh.

“Michael’s a good kid underneath it all.

He just can’t seem to stay on his medication, and without it, the voices take over.

His mom called yesterday saying he’s been arguing with himself more and more and staying out of the house longer and longer.

She knows it won’t take much to make him snap and is terrified anything she does or says might be the catalyst.”

“I had no idea the system was so broken.” Jim reached across the console, his hand covering hers briefly. “You’re doing everything you can.”

“I hope it’s enough,” she murmured.

The county building came into view, a squat, utilitarian structure of brick and narrow windows. Jim found a parking spot easily—one of the few perks of arriving early.

As they walked toward the entrance, Rachel mentally rehearsed her argument for expedited services for the Benson family. She needed a miracle to bump Michael to the top of the list for immediate services.

Inside, they maneuvered down the corridor. Rachel gripped the handle to her bag so tightly her nails dug into her palm. She had to find the right words, how to explain to the people with the power that Michael needed help—real help—before something terrible happened.

Just as she reached the correct door, her phone rang. Handing her bag with all her files to Jim, she dug it out of her purse, checking the screen. “It’s Kathy Benson. She never calls this early,” she muttered to herself, anxiety immediately spiking. This couldn’t be good.

Jim watched as Rachel’s expression shifted from professional calm to urgent focus in a heartbeat.

“Kathy, slow down. Take a deep breath.” Her voice remained steady despite the tension in her posture.

“Where’s Michael now?…. And Lily? She’s with you?

… Okay. Stay put.” Phone to her ear, she turned, moving quickly down the hall.

“I’m on my way. Just hang on.” Ending the call, she turned to Jim. “We have to go. Now.”

“What’s happened?” Jim matched her stride.

“Michael—the kid I’m so worried about—is having an episode. His mom says the voices are telling him that he has to save his sister.” Rachel pushed through the door, her steps quickening. “They’re barricaded in the bathroom and he’s tearing up the apartment.”

“Are the police on the way?”

Rachel shook her head. “Kathy’s afraid of what he’ll do if he sees the police. He hasn’t had good results with them.”

The urgency in her voice propelled Jim forward, all thoughts of a leisurely morning forgotten. “I’m driving.”

They reached the car in record time. As Rachel buckled in, she was already making another call, her fingers moving with practiced efficiency.

“Marty, it’s Rachel Sweet. I’m heading to the Benson residence now.

EDP situation, seventeen-year-old male, schizophrenic, off meds, currently experiencing paranoid delusions.

” She rattled off an address. “Mother and younger sister barricaded in bathroom. I need backup, but no sirens, no uniforms if possible. He’s scared, not dangerous—at least not intentionally. ”

Jim pulled onto the main road, pressing the gas harder than strictly necessary. Rachel’s calm professional demeanor impressed him, but he could see the worry in her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands as she ended the call.

“This Marty—police?” he asked, taking a sharp turn onto the highway.

“Crisis response team. Michael only trusts me, but…” She glanced over at him. “This could get ugly.”

Knowing ugly was her way of saying dangerous, all he could do was nod.

“Michael knows me. If I can get him talking, get him to focus on my voice instead of the ones in his head, we might be able to de-escalate.”

“And if you can’t?”

Rachel’s silence was answer enough.

The apartment complex came into view—a weathered four-story building with peeling paint and a sign advertising “affordable living.” Jim pulled into the first available spot, barely putting the car in park before Rachel was out the door.

“Apartment 412,” she called over her shoulder, already heading for the stairs.

Jim caught up in two long strides. As they rushed up the stairwell, the sound of shouting became audible—a young man’s voice, alternating between anger and fear.

“You’re lying! She’s not Lily! Where’s my real sister?”

The crash of something breaking punctuated the question.

Rachel paused at the landing, her hand on Jim’s arm. “You’ll need to stay out of the way. I can’t risk your presence adding to his fears, understood?”

The authority in her voice—so different from the woman who’d been fussing with her earrings less than an hour ago—stirred something in him. Pride, respect, and an unmistakable surge of protectiveness.

“Understood,” he said, though every instinct told him to put himself between her and whatever danger lay behind that door.

The apartment door was ajar, hanging awkwardly from one hinge. Rachel pushed it open slowly. “Michael?” she called, her voice deliberately calm and warm. “It’s Rachel. Rachel Sweet. I’m coming in, okay?”

The shouting paused briefly. Jim stood in the doorway glancing into a small living area that looked like a tornado had struck.

Furniture overturned, glass shattered across the floor, picture frames smashed.

A tall, lanky teenager stood by the window, a little girl, maybe four or five, clutched against him in one arm, the other hand gripping a bat. “Stay away. I need to save Lily.”

The urge to rush in and snatch the little girl away almost overwhelmed him, only Rachel’s words—stay back—kept his feet rooted in place.

Michael’s eyes were wild, darting around the room as if tracking invisible movements. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead. “They took Lily. They replaced her.”

“No, Michael. That’s not true.” Rachel stepped forward carefully, hands open at her sides. “Lily is fine. She’s your sister. The same sister you’ve always had.”

“Please, Michael.” In tears, his mother stood hunched, hugging herself. “She’s your sister. She loves you.”

“No! She has to die for Lily to come back. They told me.”

Jim remained by the door, taking in the scene, assessing threats and exits. The bathroom door was off the hinges; the wood cracked in half. This kid had to have the strength of a legion of demons.

“Michael,” Rachel continued, inching closer. “Remember what we talked about? About the voices? They lie to you.”

“Mommy!” Squirming in her brother’s grip, Lily began to cry. “I want Mommy.”

“I’m here, baby.” Kathy looked to Rachel then back to her daughter and son. “Please, Michael. Let me take Lily away.”

“It’s not Lily.” Michael spun and placing one hand on the open window, swung a leg over the ledge.

“Michael,” Rachel repeated with more calm than Jim would expect in this situation. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“We have to jump.”

Kathy screamed, “No!”

Rachel waved her back and took a slow minced step forward. “Michael. You love your sister.”

“This isn’t my sister.”

“Yes. Michael. I never lie to you. That’s Lily and she’s scared.”

For a moment, Jim thought the kid was going to agree, see the errors of his way, but in a flash, he turned and now Lily was dangling from the window.