Lynn Patrick - Home to Sparrow Lake

So she told herself that a girl had to do what a girl had to do, and, with apologies to Christian Louboutin, picked up one of her precious shoes and used it to break a single glass pane, immediately setting off the alarm.

Nearly on her last nerve, she gritted her teeth at the shrieking sound that pierced the night, and after taking a furtive look around to make sure no one was out there with a shotgun aimed at her, used the heel of the shoe to clear the glass so she wouldn’t cut herself. Then she stuck in an arm and found the lock. Once she released it, she opened the window and raised the sash. The sill was about three feet higher than the Dumpster, and she was wearing a tight skirt, so it would take some fancy maneuvering to get inside.

After making certain there was no glass on the sill, she hitched her skirt high and started to climb in when, half in, half out of the window, she was nearly blinded by a brilliant beam from a flashlight below.

Then a deep voice said, “Lady, you’re under arrest.”

Speechless, she froze.

The light moved up and down over her, and the man added, “You know, you really ought to dress more appropriately when you’re robbing a place.”

Okay, that struck her last nerve.

* * *

POLICE CHIEF ALEX NOVAK appreciated the length of leg he got to admire for a moment before yelling, “Come on down now!” above the still-screeching alarm.

“You don’t understand!” the woman hanging on the window sill returned.

“I understand you’re trying to break into the place.”

“Because my keys are inside!”

“Sure. Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

“How do I know you’re a cop? You’re not wearing a uniform,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him as she balanced on the sill.

“I’m not on duty.”

“Then why are you being such a pain in the—”

“If you don’t come down voluntarily, I’ll have to come up to get you. I don’t think you want that.”

He could hear her muttering under the sound of the alarm, but she slid her legs back down to the Dumpster. He admired them all the way up to her thighs revealed by her skirt catching on the window sill. She muttered some more and he thought he heard a rip when she freed the material.

Then she turned to glare down at him. She appeared a little crazed, with tufts of dark blond hair sticking out around her face emphasizing her outraged expression.

“I can’t believe you have nothing better to do than cruise alleys in the middle of the night!” she shouted over the blaring noise.

Alex clenched his jaw. “I heard the alarm go off and knew someone was up to no good!” He flicked a switch on his radio and connected with the night desk at the station. “Call Margaret Becker and tell her there’s been an attempted break-in at Sew Fine. Someone needs to come and turn off the blasted alarm.”

“No, don’t call her and wake her!” the woman protested. “I can turn off the alarm if you let me get inside.”

Figuring that would give her the opportunity to give him the slip by going out the front way, he said, “Just come on down.”

She grabbed up her shoes and moved to the edge of the Dumpster. “Your arresting me is absolutely ridiculous.”

His irritation level shot up a notch. “Casting aspersions on my job isn’t going to win you any points.”

He could see her face clearly now. One cheek was smeared with dirt, but it was her sour expression that detracted from her softly rounded cheeks, thick-lashed blue eyes and full lips. A sour expression aimed at him.

Even so, he stretched out his free arm. “Let me give you a hand.”

She ignored it and got herself down, planting both stockinged feet in the alley. She started to put on her shoes, then stopped and straightened. She was a few inches shorter than he, but if she was wearing those stilts, she could meet him eye-to-eye.

“You’re not going to put those on?”

“After planting my feet in muck?”

Her way of saying “are you crazy?” Her voice went up so high that it, along with the alarm, scraped down his spine.

“C’mon.” He took her arm and led her to the edge of the alley where he’d left the patrol car.

“You’re not even going to ask me to explain first?”

“Explain all you want at the station.”

“But Margaret Becker is my aunt!”

“That remains to be seen.”

He really should handcuff her, but she looked close to tears, and he thought things might not be exactly as they’d first seemed. He’d never seen her around town before, but if Margaret truly was her aunt...

The raucous alarm was driving him crazy.

Nope. This wasn’t the place to have any kind of conversation. And he did want to talk to her. A woman wearing designer everything breaking into the back of a store was the most intriguing thing that had happened around here in the two years since he’d moved to Wisconsin from Chicago.

Opening the rear door of the squad, he said, “Get in and watch your head.”

CHAPTER TWO

KRISTEN HAD EXPECTED a small-town police station would be deserted at night. She was surprised to see a couple of uniformed officers talking to the woman at the desk. Their conversation ended immediately and the woman said, “I called Mrs. Becker, Chief. She said she would get over to the store and shut off the alarm right away.”

“Thanks, Janet.”

Kristen tightened her jaw. “My aunt has been sick. You shouldn’t be bothering her, Chief.”

“Not here.”

She felt the gazes of the two officers follow her and the cretin as he led her toward the rear of the station. He escorted her into an office. The brass plate on his desk read Police Chief Alex Novak.

“Sit,” he said. “Please.”

Too exhausted to protest, Kristen dropped into a chair.

How had her life gone so wrong?

She’d lost her job, her savings, her home.

And now this new humiliation.

“If you’re going to arrest me, just get it over with.” At least that way, he would throw her in a cell with a cot and she could get some sleep. Undoubtedly he would take unflattering photos of her and then fingerprint her.

“First things first,” he said. “How about you give me that explanation now.”

Great. She could have cleared this up at the store if only he would have listened. “As I said, Margaret Becker is my aunt. I’m working at Sew Fine now—”

“I’ve never seen you around town.”

“Because I just moved here from Chicago a few days ago.”

“Chicago, huh?” His thick eyebrows shot up. “Do you have some kind of identification?”

She glared at him. “I do, actually. In my purse! Which I accidentally locked in the blasted store!”

“No need to shout...what did you say your name was?”

“Kristen Lange.”

“Lange.” His expression shifted slightly. “Hmm.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have the same name as Aunt Margaret. She’s been married a few times.” Three times, actually. Divorced twice, and then widowed three years ago.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you were related to Brian Lange.”

“He’s my kid brother.” The police chief knew Brian? Why? Brian had only returned to Sparrow Lake from California a month before she’d come home. “And Heather Clarke is my younger sister.”

Heather was the only sibling who had lived in Sparrow Lake all her life. Kristen had left for school at eighteen and had gone on to a job in Chicago. She’d come back to Sparrow Lake for visits, of course, but she’d never intended to live here again. She’d had big plans for her future and had never wanted to feel like the failure she obviously was.

“Funny,” the police chief said. “You don’t look like Heather or Brian.”