Dead Ringer. Sharon Dunn

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      A department as small as Mountain Springs probably didn’t have a forensics unit. He could call in for instructions, but he suspected there was a processing kit in the car, and that he would be the one doing the processing. “I need to go over the crime scene first.”

      The glazing over her eyes cleared. “But it must be one o’clock in the morning.”

      “Your house is a duplex. Is there someone next door you could stay with?”

      “It’s for rent. I’ve been running an ad, but so far, no response.” She lifted her head, regaining her composure.

      On his drive here, he had noticed that the houses were pretty far apart. The subdivision was on the outskirts of town. He had seen signs that indicated directions to a lake and hiking trails. Given the state she was in, it wouldn’t be good for her to be alone tonight. “Is there a friend you can call?”

      “Nobody I want to wake up at one in the morning.” Her gaze rested on him for a moment, long enough to make him wiggle in his chair. “I appreciate your concern about me, but I can take care of myself.”

      Lucy Kimbol had an independent streak a mile long. “Suit yourself. I do need to process the scene.” It wouldn’t take any time at all to gather evidence from the crime scene, but he could stretch it out. Even though she would never admit it, he saw that she was on edge emotionally. Since he couldn’t talk her into calling a friend, he’d feel better leaving her alone once she’d stabilized. “I’ll get my kit out of the car.” He stood up and looked at Lucy again. A chill ran down his spine. Lucy looked so much like the other victims. He had more than one reason for stretching out his time. “If you don’t mind, I’ll check the perimeter of your house while I’m out there. Sometimes thieves come back or maybe he dropped something.”

      Illumination from the porch light spilled over Lucy’s backyard as Detective Hawkins circled around her house. Lucy stood at the kitchen window, gripping the glass of water he had gotten for her. She shook her head. He wasn’t going to catch anyone. He was doing this to make her feel safer. The gesture touched her.

      She had breathed a sigh of relief when she’d seen this stranger at her door. It had been an answer to prayer that he was compassionate and not part of the Mountain Springs Police Department she knew. Maybe he would actually catch the thief.

      Her emotional meltdown had surprised her. She did not think of herself as someone who needed a fainting couch. She took a sip of the water and set the glass on the counter.

      Outside, Detective Hawkins stepped away from the house and out of the light, where all she could discern was his silhouette. He wasn’t a muscular man—more lean and tall. Probably the kind of officer who used persuasion and intelligence instead of brawn. He ambled back into the light and she caught a flash of his brown hair and a focused look on his face, a handsome face at that.

      Even though he’d said he needed to process the scene first, she wanted to know what had been taken. She shrank back from the window and headed toward the bedroom. The door creaked when she pushed it open. She scanned the room. Why was her heart racing? The thief was gone. All she had to do was figure out what had been stolen. This shouldn’t be that hard.

      She knew enough about police work to not touch anything. She could go through the drawers and closet later to see if anything was missing. A glance at two empty hooks on the wall caused a jab to her heart. Her favorite and most expensive fly fishing rod, broken down and stored in a case, had been taken.

      Lucy suddenly felt light-headed. She planted her feet. She’d pulled people out of raging rivers and hiked out of the hills with a sprained ankle. She could handle this. Her stomach tightened. She gripped the door frame.

      A stranger had been in here, rifling through her things, her private things. Then she saw the redwood bowl where she kept her jewelry. Her legs turned to cooked noodles as she made her way across the floor. A lump swelled in her throat. Her jewelry was gone.

      Eli’s voice came from far away. “It’s me and I’m just coming into the house.”

      Lucy’s hand hovered over the empty bowl. Her grandmother’s wedding ring and pearl necklace and the earrings her brother had given her had been stolen.

      “Miss Kimbol? Lucy?”

      Footsteps pounded on the wood floor. Eli stood in the doorway.

      The warm tenor of his voice calmed her. She exhaled. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.

      He turned slightly sideways, indicating the outside door. “I knocked, but I was afraid that—”

      She opened her mouth to speak, preparing to be all business, to let him know what was missing. Instead she bent forward, crumpling.

      He rushed toward her before her knees buckled. His grip on her forearms was light but steadying. He must have seen something in her body language and facial expression, something she wasn’t even aware of. No matter how hard she tried, she could not pull herself together by sheer force of will.

      The heat of his touch on her forearm permeated her skin. She saw no judgment in his expression and his wide brown eyes communicated safety. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m not normally like this.”

      “Reaction to a home invasion takes a lot of people by surprise.” Still anchoring her arm, he set a box with a handle on the floor.

      She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, but her stomach was still doing somersaults. “There was a bamboo fly fishing rod in a case and…my jewelry. The rod was worth thousands. It was custom-made. The jewelry wasn’t worth much.” But it had been priceless to her. The earrings had been a precious gift from her brother. She shuddered.

      “You really need to let me process the scene first. I’ll dust the area where you kept the jewelry and the windowsill and then take some photos.” Leaning close, he whispered, “You might want to go in the next room.”

      “No, I…want to help.” This was so ridiculous. Why did she keep losing it emotionally?

      He bent over and flipped open the case. He spoke gently but as though he hadn’t heard her protest. “Tomorrow you can come back in here, but make sure a friend is with you. Look and see if there is anything else missing—make me a list with a description of each item.”

      She appreciated the concreteness of the assignment and the wisdom behind it. “Sorry, this is my first robbery. You’ve probably done thousands of them.”

      He lifted a camera out of the case. He rose to his feet and looked her in the eyes. “You’re going to be all right, Miss Kimbol.”

      Detective Hawkins had been right about everything so far. She needed to trust and quit fighting him in an effort to prove to herself that this robbery wasn’t upsetting her. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

      For ten minutes, Lucy sat on the couch listening to him work, determined to stay awake. He seemed to be taking a long time for what had sounded like an easy job. She rested her cheek against a pillow as her eyelids grew heavy.

      She stirred slightly when a blanket was placed on her. Relishing the comfort, she pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and drifted off again. Sometime later, the warmth of his voice surrounded her. “Miss Kimbol, you need to lock the door behind me. I’ll wait outside until I hear the bolt click.”

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