At the safe, house Raylan carried Clare's bag in while she carried her medical bag. Setting them on the generic kitchen table Raylan asked, "You want the grand tour?"
"I want to go shopping. Graham brought me a credit card. Told me to get better clothes since everything burned up in my apartment and fugitive-wear 'didn't become me'."
"'I'm here to keep you alive, not help you shop'," he parroted Tim reflexively.
She chuckled, "Apt quote, Givens. But if we're not gonna shop, I'm gonna need to know about the hat."
He sighed, "I tried it on and it fit."
"Darlin', that's not something that 'fits' as much as it's something that's a life choice. Wanna try it again?"
"It fit," Raylan shrugged. "I'm gettin' a glass of water, would you like one?"
"Please. I heard about you…back when I was running. The marshal that shot a cartel gun thug after giving him 24 hours to get outta town."
"Good to have a reputation, I guess. Ice?"
"Just a little. Can't imagine that played well with your bosses."
"Nope, " he passed her a glass.
"Would you do it again? Knowing what you know now?"
Raylan blinked at her, sighed, "Honestly? Probably. Why?"
"I was in Haiti at the time of it. Heard about it later, what he did at that coconut plantation from a first responder, two-bit guy, named Rene Benoit. Won two hundred off him in a poker game while he was telling the story of dynamite and duct tape." She sipped her water and Raylan sat back and measured her the way he didn't in New Orleans.
"You in love with him?"
"Pardon?"
"Tim. Are you in love with him?"
"Little presumptuous to ask, even if it was your business. I barely know him, honestly."
"Only takes a minute. I've been there."
"That what Amy was talking about with you? She's good with that."
"We talking about me now?"
"We were, yeah."
"You love your daddy?"
Clare nodded, "Best man I ever knew. Yeah, I love my daddy."
"Mark and Paul were telling stories about him when Tim and I met them."
She smiled, "My daddy was good for stories. You wanna talk about my daddy?"
"You watched him die?"
"Held his hand after I shot that runner. Didn't go help the man I shot either, that affect your opinion of me?"
"You called it in."
"I did. Am I good enough for your colleague?"
"Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"Aren't you?"
Raylan took a sip. "I'm stuck protecting you, doc. Maybe I just want to think you're playing it straight."
"You gonna share the verdict?"
"Well, I didn't see your face when you were told the man who implicated you to begin with was murdered."
"One theory is that he was murdered to keep his mouth shut about who told him to implicate me."
"That is one theory," he agreed as his phone rang. "Excuse me." Raylan stepped out of the kitchen.
She nodded, drinking her water.
"Raylan, you are never going to guess where the Sullivan's got the name of their head of security from," Tim started.
"You wanna save me from asking?"
"Wynn Duffy."
"What the hell," Raylan glanced back at Clare, "Did anyone tell you what they were doing talking to Wynn Duffy?"
"Apparently Duffy handled both Graham and Brian Sullivan's home security a few years ago and they got chummy."
"I could see that happening. They compared notes about plastic sheeting."
Tim chuckled, "Either way, I know the head of security from Afghanistan. He's pretty solid. The Duffy connection opens a few doors for you though."
"I'll visit him tomorrow... if you take your girl shopping."
"Oh, Art'll love that. The veins in his forehead especially."
"I won't tell if you won't."
"It's a deal. Maybe I could get her into a Victoria's Secret dressing room. They probably have pretty good security," and with that, Tim hung up.
Raylan scowled at the phone briefly before walking back in the kitchen, "Don't suppose you're familiar with the name Wynn Duffy?"
Clare thought for a second, "Nope. Don't suppose I am. Should I be?"
"He installed your Uncle Brian's home security. Also, passed along the name of the current head of security. Also, a point man with the Dixie Mafia."
"That's a hell of a resume," she nodded. "Don't suppose ya'll keep bourbon here?"
"Doubtful."
"Yeah," she nodded, looking rather dismal.
"On the bright side, Tim'll take you shopping tomorrow," Raylan said.
"That'll be fun. Not remotely uncomfortable or awkward as he'll be all eagle eyes and I'll be distracted by shoes that I have no reason to wear."
"You get distracted by shoes?"
"It's an estrogen thing."
"My ex was like that."
"I'm sorry?"
"What?"
"Being compared to someone's ex is rarely a compliment, Marshal."
"Raylan. And it's about the limit of what ya'll have in common. The shoe/estrogen thing."
Clare purses her lips for a minute, "Messed you up good, didn't she?"
"Are we gonna sit here and talk all evening?"
"Suppose I should take you up on that tour then? Huh?" she stood, " 'Lead on, MacDuff'."
Tim was having a less conversational time with former First Sergeant Emmett Quinton. Tim knew Q from when Q had been an Airborne Ranger in Afghanistan and respected him. They'd been drinking and even arrested together, if not actually been assigned to many of the same missions. Perusing floor plans and threat assessments was less than stimulating though.
"So, how do you know Duffy?"
"When I got back, Markos -you remember him?- asked me if I wanted to help him out with something. Turns out he was security for some Dixie Mafia asshole named Arnett. I assisted a few times, Duffy and I talked. The man doesn't blink enough. And I mentioned it really wasn't the sort of thing I was into. Few days later, he called about a position here. Haven't heard from him since. Why?"
"I'm more concerned about his eyebrows," Tim mentioned absently, before adding, "You've been here five years, what do you think of the family?"
"Other than that they're less than pleased about your doctor's taste in men? They didn't like her mother's taste in men either. Graham and Brian are pretty straight. Brian's a little stiff. A little too normal, but nothing's dripped from the trunk of his car and he doesn't hide things.
"Graham's an introvert. He and his wife just keep to themselves. He and Brian can't stand each other. Your girl was here to pick sides between them. Always thought it was a shitty way to spend her free time but she always seemed to like fucking with them."
Tim smirked, "My girl?"
"They curse your name, man. Don't know if they had plans for her marry someone respectable but ever since you lost her in Daniel Boone they've got you pegged for an in-law. Something about her being just like her mother, but I don't know the story. I wish you luck though."
Tim sighed, and scratched his head, "Don't suppose you could fish around for that story for me?"
Q grinned, "Not gonna ask your girl?"
"She's a protectee, Q, not currently my girl."
"Currently? Nice, wordsmith. I'll ask around."
Tim pursed his lips. The Sullivan's would be in-laws from hell, but his Marshaling career would be safe. He went out to meet with Brian Sullivan again.
Clare unpacked her meager wash kit and felt her stomach twist and coil. A familiar bad feeling she hadn't had since...well, the last time she'd been in Kentucky with Tim and someone trying to kill her. Oh, Tim...
She raced out to find Raylan lounging on the couch, "Call Tim back."
"What? Why?" he pulled his phone out anyway.
"Just, please. Call him," she seemed so frightened as Raylan speed-dialed, he was getting nervous himself.