Shaun's tired body relaxed as he sat down at the kitchen table, a plate of butter tarts and a steaming mug of coffee plunked in front of him. Tomorrow, his long-lost riding muscles were going to be remembered by a layer of pain, but right now it felt great to be stiff from sitting in a saddle. He looked up appreciatively to the older woman who had offered up the comforting sight in front of him, when he had shuffled in the door followed closely by the uncle.

"You both look pink! Let's warm you up," she had chirped, and turned to pull the coffee maker out of the cupboard.

He sat across from her uncle, and they eyed each other over the plate of butter tarts. He felt less like an officer and more like some punk kid under the gaze of the hardened ranch man. He hesitatingly took one of the pastries, and took a bite. His stomach rumbled in response.

"Thank you for the use of your horse, sir," he offered, to break the silence once he finished chewing, brushing crumbs off his uniform. "He's a good, solid ride."

The man grunted that noise that only old ranch men ever seemed to be able to make, nodded, and took a sip of his own coffee. "Jess still out with 'em?"

Shaun nodded back. "I offered to help her, but she told me to go into the house and let her aunt fuss. She'll be done soon. We have a lot to discuss."

"I suspect we do," was all he replied.

"This may be a difficult time for you," Shaun started, but then frowned, wondering how best to phrase the next part, then just went with the blunt approach. "I'm going to have to ask some very personal questions of all of you."

The aunt turned around, a dishcloth in her hand, and looked across him to the uncle. The tension crackled in the air, and he turned in his seat to look at her, his instinct on her to break the ice. She was holding herself tightly, her knuckles white. He sensed a secret, one they had not even shared with their niece.

"Well, I suppose it don't matter now," the uncle said quietly. "She'll find out anyways."

"Mrs. Crampton, is there anything I should know before your niece gets back from the barn?" he asked, deciding the blunt tactic, once again, may just be the right one.

The woman lowered herself into the chair near him, leaned on the table, looking weary, and frightened. She took a moment, and then he watched her very decidedly look up and into his eyes.

"I understand this can be hard," he said, and put a hand overtop of hers. "I want you to know I am here to help."

"You're such a nice young man," she replied, and then her shoulders drooped, just a little. "It's just that we've never told Jess why she's here. She was only just a wee girl when we took her on. All she knows is her Daddy abandoned her, and I think she made peace with it a long time ago. We don't talk about it much."

Shaun nodded, and jumped to his feet as Jess made her way into the kitchen, dropping her gloves on the bench by the back door. She looked from her uncle to her aunt, then at Shaun. The stoic, no nonsense resolve was back, her face a mask of detachment. He'd figured she needed a few minutes by herself to gather her wits, after hearing such crazy and distressing news. He also sensed she was alone a lot, and preferred it that way. So, he'd let her rub down the horses and turn them back out, even though the correct thing to do was to take care of his own.

She had practice at being tough, he decided. She'd not wanted the delicate flower treatment before, so she wouldn't want it now. She lashed out before she broke down.

"Miss Nichols," He said, and gestured to the chair at the end of the table. "Shall we?"

She nodded tightly, and pulled out the chair, spinning it to perch backwards, her arms crossing overtop of the backrest. With one hand, she reached out and snagged a butter tart, her eyes never leaving him.

"Call me Jess. Miss Nichols makes me sound like a school teacher or somethin'," she replied testily, through a bite of tart. "We're gonna be spending time together, I'm not fond of being formalized."

"Ok, Jess it is."

Shaun had brought the file folder from his truck, and he opened it. He tossed a blown-up security camera picture over to her of the shooter, and let her look at it for a moment. Jess pushed it away, and shook her head.

"Nope, I have never seen her before in my life."

Her uncle swiped it over his way, and cocked his head, staring at it a few moments before he closed his eyes and put his hands flat on either side of the picture, his face white as a sheet.

"Uncle?" Jess said, alarm in her voice. "What's wrong?"

Jess's aunt peered at the picture across the table, blinked and covered her mouth, the shock evident in her face as well. Shaun cataloged it. They knew exactly who that woman was, and evidently she was someone important. Who exactly, he wasn't sure yet, but most likely this was part of the secret they had not told Jess.

The silence was uncomfortable, the seconds slow as Shaun witnessed a family come to grips with something he hoped he never had to. All over the local area, he knew other families were doing just this, and the waste of it all struck him. He was an officer, yes, but he was also human, and this particular crime scene had been tough on him. Perhaps it hit too close to home, or it was just the sheer carnage that had caught up with him.

"Uncle! Tell me what is wrong!" Jess barked, her voice rising.

Shaun took the picture away from the older man, and stuffed it back into the file. He carefully folded it closed, and waited.