Julie Anne Lindsey - Shadow Point Deputy

“Cade County Treasurer. This is Cyndi.”

“Hi, Cyndi, this is Rita.”

“Rita? Talk about timing! A deputy sheriff was just in here looking for you. Did he find you? I told him you went for coffee. Probably at that diner around the corner. Is that where you went?”

A cold sweat broke over Rita’s brow. “Yes. Did he say what he wanted?”

“No. Only that he’d hoped to catch you.”

“Did you get his name?”

Cyndi paused. “No. Honey, are you in some kind of trouble?”

Rita moved double time down the rear staircase. “No. Not at all. I’m feeling sick, though. I think that’s why I was so distracted earlier. It’s really hitting me now.”

“Oh, well, then you should go home. I can’t afford to get sick. Remember when I got that stomach flu last spring?”

How could she forget? Anytime anyone complained about so much as a headache in Cyndi’s presence, they were reminded of her personal near-death experience in March. “Mmm-hmm. You know what? I think I have that.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yep. I’m going to head home. Rest.” Rita jogged through the door and across the employee lot toward Ryan’s decrepit compact. “Cyndi? I’ve got to go. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You need lots of fluids.”

“Okay.” She dropped behind the steering wheel and gunned the little engine to life. What she really needed was to go home and pull herself together. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

The phone rang in her hand, and she tossed it aside. The only person she’d answer for today was Ryan, and that wasn’t his number. Everyone else could get in line.

She made a bunch of paranoid and probably unnecessary turns before arriving on her street almost twenty minutes later. Several neighbors stood on her lawn beside a cruiser in the driveway. Fear and panic bubbled in her core.

She cranked Ryan’s window down and hooked an elbow over the frame. “Mrs. Wilcox,” she stage-whispered. An elderly woman turned to face her. The woman hustled in her direction.

“What’s going on?” Rita asked, sinking low in the driver’s seat. Her tummy bubbled with anxiety at the sight of a cruiser at her home.

“Betty was jogging past and saw the cats in your yard.” She pointed to a woman in hot pink running gear and a matching sun visor. “She recognized them because they spend so much time in your window.”

“My cats were outside?” Rita gasped. “Are they okay?”

“Well, yes,” she said, glancing back at Rita’s home. “Betty collected the little lovebugs, then knocked on your door and it opened. The whole place was a mess, so she dropped them inside, pulled the door shut, then came to me, and I called the cops.”

A rock formed in Rita’s throat. “My house is a mess?” she croaked.

The older woman bobbed her head. “Trashed. The deputy was here in minutes. Must’ve been in the area.”

Her heart hammered and her pulse beat in her ears. Someone had been in her home.

And a deputy was in there now.

Cole had gritted his teeth and dragged his heels when the call came in from Dispatch about a possible B and E on Maple. Leaving West alone with an active murder investigation seemed irresponsible, but one of the problems in a department with only six deputies was coverage. The next man’s shift wouldn’t start for two hours unless West called him in sooner. Meanwhile, the homeowner on Maple had left work early and wasn’t answering her phone. Cole had reluctantly made the trip to check on things.

The front door was unlocked with no signs of tampering, but the place had been destroyed. The neighbors hadn’t seen or heard anything out of the ordinary, but every item in sight was upended, overturned or partially disassembled. Bookshelves were emptied. Drawers were dumped. Yet the television and computer were completely untouched.

Not a very effective robbery. So why break in? And where was the homeowner? He double-checked the name on his notepad. Rita Horn. Maybe this was revenge. Something personal. Maybe the work of a jaded ex or wronged family member.

Whatever it was, it was weird.

He scrubbed a palm over his face. First a body had turned up in the river, and now there was a break-in east of the railroad tracks. In a neighborhood known for its distinct lack of crimes. His exhale was long and slow. What was going on with this day?

The tip of his boot nicked a fallen photograph, and he pulled the thick white frame off the floor. “Well, what do you know?” He grinned. He’d recognize those smart hazel eyes anywhere.

The jaw-dropping redhead worked at the municipal building. He’d taken notice of her last fall while delivering a criminal to court through the rear alley entrance. She’d been handing out homemade sandwiches and bottled water to a throng of homeless people at lunchtime. Her floral wrap dress and high heels had been a stunning contrast to the dirty and disheveled men and women in her care. If memory served him, she’d called several of the people by their names.

He set the frame on the fireplace mantel, feeling much better about leaving West at the docks.

“Here she is!” A voice called from the lawn. “She’s okay!”

Cole turned on his heel and went to save the day.

“Miss Horn?” He strode in the direction of a rusty yellow car. “I’m Deputy Cole Garrett. Can you please park your vehicle?”

She nodded behind the driver’s-side window.

Her white-knuckle grip and wide eyes worried him. Current circumstances aside, Rita was the poster child for calm and centered. He’d started noticing her every time he made a trip to the courts after that day in the alley. Unfortunately, they’d never made eye contact, and unlike most women in town, she didn’t seem to know he existed.

The car rolled slowly to the curb and idled several moments before the engine settled.

She got out, closed the door and moved cautiously in Cole’s direction. “What’s going on?” Her gaze darted nervously over the scene, catching on his cruiser, then the patch on his jacket.

A gray-haired woman popped up at her side. “I was scared when you didn’t answer the phone. Your office said you’d left, but you didn’t answer.”

“I’m sorry, Doris.” Rita soothed the elderly woman. “I wasn’t feeling well. I’m not myself today.”

“I just thank my stars you weren’t home when this happened,” Doris said.

“What happened, exactly?” Rita asked again, moving her attention to Cole.

“Your neighbors reported a possible break-in about thirty minutes ago. When did you say you left the municipal building?”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know I was at the municipal building?”

Cole put on his most charming smile, hoping to soothe the sudden alarm in her tone. “I’ve seen you there.”

Her cheeks darkened, but she didn’t comment.

It was none of his business, but Rita Horn didn’t look sick. In fact, she looked fantastic. Her skirt and blouse fit in all the right places, accentuating her curves without giving away the details.

Man, he would love to know her details.

She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing the silky material of her blouse tighter.

Dear Lord.

“I went in early.”

Cole swept a hand toward her front door and forced his gaze there, as well. “Would you like to see if anything is missing?” He moved onto the stoop, hoping she’d follow. Honestly, she looked like she might get back in her car and flee. “Any chance you forgot to lock the door this morning?”

“No.” Her sweet voice sounded behind him. “I even double-checked the knob.”

He angled himself for a look at her. “Do you always double-check or was something different today?”