Samantha Hunter - Friction

He couldn’t drop it, though he’d been warned to do so. He knew Melanie, had spent hours every day with her, seen her put her life on the line just like every other cop did. She wouldn’t have just dropped everything to leave town and pick up a gig as a nude model—a polite description of what the pictures illustrated—even if she was going through a really rough patch. Something was very wrong, but he couldn’t seem to convince anyone else of that. He needed evidence.

So he’d made it his personal mission to find her again, or at least to find out what had happened to her. Doing so had taken over his life, interfered with his work, though he’d tried to keep his investigation low-key. He wasn’t in love with Mel, but she’d been a good cop and deserved better than she was getting.

She’d been a close friend; he’d met her family. He’d eaten dinner with her parents. And he knew firsthand what it was like to lose people who were close to you, what it was like to lose family. How could he face her family or tell them he’d given up?

The trail had led him here. But he had to be smart about it, because he’d been ordered to take a mandatory leave when he’d tried to make his case to the captain, to show him the new leads he’d found. When they’d refused to budge and turned their backs he’d lost it completely, blowing up in front of everyone in the captain’s office.

His job was on the line, but he wasn’t going to let it go. He had to make sure it looked like he was having a genuine vacation. He didn’t think anyone was watching him—he wasn’t that important—but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

And how better to do that than to engage in a vacation fling with a beautiful woman? As a cover, it had numerous advantages.

He pictured Sarah in his mind’s eye and smiled. He wouldn’t be working every minute, and maybe she would provide the perfect distraction. She wasn’t going to be easily convinced, but then, he’d always enjoyed the hunt.

SARAH WAS still mumbling to herself as she pushed her key into the lock on the door of her room and froze, finding it open. Someone was inside.

She pushed the door open a little more with her fingertip, silently, slowly, holding her breath until she had it open far enough that she could see inside, though part of the room was blocked from view.

She heard humming, and frowned. Someone sounded pretty happy in there. Definitely a female voice. She was relieved she didn’t have anything with her worth stealing. She’d left all of her computer equipment back in Norfolk. Ian’s orders, damn him. But she still didn’t like the idea of anyone going through her stuff.

A young woman moved into her line of vision. She was pulling some faded flowers out of the vase by the window and replacing them with fresh ones. Not exactly burglar behavior. Sarah pushed the door open and stepped inside, sighting a small service cart she hadn’t spotted from the crack in the door.

The maid.

She sighed heavily, feeling the tension drain away, irritation returning. She hadn’t spent much time in hotels or inns, and hadn’t even considered that there would be a maid in her room. She hadn’t even slept in the room yet, what was there to clean up?

Her suspicions suddenly seemed silly, even to her. It wasn’t like the small, quaint town of Cape Charles was a hotbed of crime—they left the door to the main house open all day, even when no one was around. Sarah couldn’t quite get used to that fact. Her suspicions were misplaced, the result of city living and the extreme boredom she was experiencing at the moment.

The young woman turned, smiling, and that smile faded suddenly. Sarah experienced a pinch of guilt as she realized she was standing there scowling at the girl for no good reason. She could feel her cheeks all bunched up. She tried to relax, though she couldn’t quite manage a smile. The maid wrung her hands, apparently feeling caught in the act even though she obviously hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Sarah felt like a jerk.

“I-I’m sorry, we try to be out of the rooms before—”

“It’s okay. You just startled me.” At the girl’s doubtful glance, she reiterated, “Really. Thanks for freshening the flowers.” Sarah didn’t know what else to say—was she supposed to tip her or something?

“You’re welcome. I’ll just get out of your way now.” The young woman rolled the small cart to the door and stopped. “Thanks for not being angry. I really need this job in the summer to save money for college. But we’re supposed to be out of the rooms when guests are around. It’s just that I forgot to change your flowers this morning, and figured I could stop back and—”

“It’s okay. What’s your name?”

The girl blanched, and Sarah realized she probably thought she was going to be reported.

“Ivy.”

Sarah smiled, trying to prove she wasn’t the wicked witch of the east. “Thanks, Ivy. And don’t worry about getting in here while I’m not around. After a few more days of this, I’ll need the company.”

“What do you mean?”

Sarah sighed, sitting on the bed, waving her hand around aimlessly. “I’m not used to…this. There’s nothing to do, no one around.”

“You don’t like the quiet? It’s why most people come here.”

“Not me. My boss is an ass—uh, idiot who thought I needed a break and he made the reservations for me. He thought I was wound a little too tightly and needed to relax.”

Ivy kept quiet, her fingers poised on the doorknob, and Sarah felt the need to clarify.

“I just like my work is all. I don’t get burnt out. He doesn’t seem to get that.”

“What do you do? Are you a model?”

Sarah blinked, surprised. She knew she wasn’t ugly, but she’d never thought of herself as model material.

“Oh, no way. I’m a cop.”

She almost smiled as Ivy’s eyes widened in surprise.

“A cop? Like, a real one? A detective like on CSI?”

“Not like that, but I work in a special unit with the Norfolk police department.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“Yeah, but not here.”

“That is so cool. You are so pretty. I never would’ve guessed you’re a cop.”

Sarah felt inordinately pleased by the compliment, and shrugged. “Thanks. It’s kind of a new job, actually, so I didn’t really need this vacation. I’m going to go slowly insane if I don’t find some way to pass the time. I’m here for two weeks, and I just can’t sit around on the beach all day. And there’s no shopping here. Or anything.”

Frustration edged itself into her tone again, but this time Ivy seemed to understand.

“Well, it is peaceful here. Most people come here to get away from all that, from the noise and stuff. But there is a lot to do.”

“Like what?”

“Do you like crabbing?”

“I don’t like complainy people—”

Ivy laughed. “No, I mean, like getting crabs, to eat. You can do your own crabbing.”

Sarah just raised her eyebrows. The closest she’d ever come to getting her own live seafood was buying it at street markets in New York.

“Anything else?”

“Well, there are some museums and historic stops. Assateague and Chincoteague aren’t far away. You can see the wild horses and deer there on the beaches, which are incredible. Or, oh, you can take a kayak lesson with Jim McIntyre, he gives a discount to resort guests, and he’s like a magician on the water.”

Ivy’s cheeks had stained a light pink as she spoke about the kayak instructor, and Sarah guessed the young woman had a little more interest in him than a business referral.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Pink turned to full-out red, and Ivy shook her head vehemently.

“No, no.” She sounded very disappointed by this fact. “But I wouldn’t say he’s the best just because of that. He really is very good.”