Shadow Point Deputy. Julie Lindsey Anne

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      She swept long auburn locks over her shoulder and bundled the strands in one fist. “No.” She lowered her arms to lock around her middle. “You can call me Rita.”

      COLE UNZIPPED THE black duffel he’d left by the door.

      “What are you doing?” The fear in her voice startled him.

      He raised his palms in a show of innocence. “I’m going to dust the knob and jamb for fingerprints. Maybe replace this old dead bolt.”

      She lifted a finger. “Can I see what’s in the bag?”

      Cole felt his forehead pucker as he stretched the duffel wide for her inspection.

      “Okay.” Her face flushed with the words. “I don’t use the dead bolt. It sticks.”

      “Care if I put the new one on before I go? It won’t stop a professional from getting inside, but it’ll slow one down, and in this neighborhood, time is your friend. I have a feeling those people on your lawn don’t miss much.”

      Her lips turned down slightly. “You just happen to have a spare dead bolt with you?”

      “No. I’ve been planning to change mine for months but haven’t gotten around to it.”

      She seemed to mull that over. “Can you leave the door open while you work?”

      “Sure.” He applied the dusting powder to her knob and jamb. “You sure you can’t think of anyone who’d want to get in here?”

      “Like who?” Rita lifted a fancy pillow from the floor and clutched it to her chest.

      Cole split his attention between her and his work. “I don’t know. Maybe a rival or an ex. Maybe a lover’s significant other?”

      Her shocked expression turned to disgust. “That’s awful.” She dropped the pillow onto her couch and lined it up with the others. Delicate stitching over a tiny yellow flower formed the words Suck it up Buttercup.

      Cole smiled.

      She frowned. “I don’t have any rivals or lunatic exes, and I certainly don’t get involved with men who have significant others.” She threw his final words back at him. “What kind of women do you normally deal with, Deputy Garrett?”

      He smiled at the pleasant sound of his name on her tongue. “You can call me Cole.” He stretched to his feet and extended a hand her way.

      She eyeballed his hand. “I recognize you from the courthouse.”

      A smile spread over his lips. “Is that right?”

      Rita blushed and slid her thin hand into his. “Can I make you some coffee?”

      “That’d be nice.” He turned back to the door with a rush of satisfaction.

      Rita righted furniture and photos while Cole finished his work on her door and the coffee brewed. The small, inviting space was magazine perfect when he packed up his things. The overall result was very sexy librarian. Claw-footed furniture, books by the boatload and more fancy pillows with goofy sayings like Hot Mess, Sassy, and Hell to the No.

      Cole shook his head. “You might want to think about getting a new knob, too. Maybe something with a code.”

      “Sure.” She rolled the vacuum into view, then wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “Coffee should be ready.”

      “Care if I shut the door and test the lock?”

      “No. It’s fine.” She returned a moment later with two fragile-looking cups and set them on the coffee table. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

      Cole laughed. “No, but thanks.” He made a show of testing the door’s integrity and admiring his personal handyman skills. “I think this is all set. I’ll let you know about the prints.” He dropped the keys to her new dead bolt on the table, then helped himself to a seat in the narrow armchair. “You live here alone?”

      “Yeah. For a couple years since Ryan moved out.”

      Cole felt his jaw lock. “Ryan?” Maybe there was an angry ex out there somewhere who needed a swift kick in the ass. Cole adjusted his position in the little seat and hiked one foot onto the opposite leg. The idea of a man attempting to harm or frighten Rita set his teeth on edge.

      “He’s my little brother.” She flipped the lid on a scrapbook beside his coffee. “There.”

      A younger, masculine version of Rita centered every photo. Ryan was tall and gangly, like Cole used to be. At least eight inches taller than his big sister, who was tucked beneath his arm in many of the pictures. “You’re close. That’s nice. My family’s like that. Painfully so.”

      She smiled.

      “Did you say Ryan lived here?”

      “Yeah. Until he moved into a dorm for freshman year. I was his legal guardian through high school.” Deep sadness swam in her hazel eyes.

      Cole found himself leaning forward, suddenly eager to understand her burdens and lighten them.

      “Our mother was hit by a drunk driver in Oklahoma. Ryan came to live with me after the funeral.”

      “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” He couldn’t imagine losing a parent. Especially not in high school. And he surely couldn’t have raised a teenager when he was in his twenties. “Your dad’s not in the picture?”

      She rolled her eyes and traced the gilded rim of her dainty cup with a fingertip. “No. He’s in Kuwait or Afghanistan or somewhere else where people need him.” There was no mistaking the disappointment in her tone. She set her cup aside and slid her palms up and down her thighs, then folded her fingers on her lap.

      “Do I make you nervous?”

      She looked at her feet. “No. Your presence is extremely comforting, actually, but I’ve had a long morning.”

      “And you don’t feel well,” he reminded her.

      “Right.”

      “Anything you want to talk about?” he prompted.

      Rita pressed her lips into a white line and shook her head.

      He levered himself off the chair and went to fish a card from his bag, leaving his finished coffee where it stood. There was little left for him to do if she wasn’t talking, and West could use his help back at the docks.

      She followed Cole to the door and opened it for him. Soft scents of vanilla and honey lifted from her skin and hair.

      Cole scribbled his cell number across the back of his card. “If you need anything else or think of something you want to tell me, give me a call. I always answer, and I can be here quick. Meanwhile, I’ll add your street to the other deputies’ patrol routes.”

      “No. Don’t.” Rita’s hand flashed up from her side, and curled around his wrist.

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