Frankie's Back in Town. Jeanie London

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СКАЧАТЬ had been all those years ago.

      Jack Sloan.

      He swept a gaze over her, one of those classic law-enforcement looks that summed her up in a glance. He didn’t register any recognition, but that didn’t surprise her. She hadn’t exactly been part of his crowd back then.

      When her brain finally kick-started into gear again, she connected the man in front of her with the introductions she’d overheard. Chief Sloan was a blast from a long ago past, a memory she hadn’t even realized had still been inside her brain until coming face-to-face with the grown-up version of a boy who’d been legendary in Ashokan High School.

      Jack Sloan—valedictorian, quarterback, prom king and voted most likely to succeed.

      And here he was, wearing an expensive suit that showcased shoulders even broader than they’d been in high school, padded as they’d usually been by football gear. He’d been gorgeous all those years ago and was no less gorgeous now. More so, if that was even possible.

      It was, she decided. Definitely. He towered over her, extending his hand…. She mentally shook herself and slipped her fingers against his. “Is there anything I can help with?”

      His grip was warm and strong. “We’re here to ask the Hickmans some questions.”

      Jack raked his dark gaze over her again, taking in everything from the top of her head to the hand she had to remind herself to release.

      She greeted the detective, relieved for the distraction, and glanced at his credentials before smiling through the open doorway. “How are you today, Mrs. Hickman? Captain?”

      “Just fine, dear. I’m so glad you’re here.” Maturity had honed Mrs. Hickman’s femininity to a soft patina, and when she met Francesca’s gaze with faded blue eyes, the worry eased. “You can explain to these police what happened to Joel’s wallet.”

      “We already did,” the captain said in nothing less than a dull roar as he offered the offending wallet to the detective.

      “Why don’t you invite us all in?” Francesca suggested. “We can find out exactly what these gentlemen need?”

      Captain Joel Hickman had once been a man who’d stood taller than six feet, evidenced by his photo in full military regalia that hung beside the door’s nameplate.

      Now extreme age had bowed him until he wasn’t much taller than his wife. He gave a nod, stepped back from the doorway with a shuffling gait and held the door for his guests.

      Mrs. Hickman led them into an apartment with windows that overlooked the mountain and a living room filled with family photos and mementos from love-filled lives.

      Francesca stepped inside and found herself so close to Jack that she could smell his aftershave. Just the barest hint of something fresh and masculine. She eased back on her heels a bit to put some space between them, but there was barely room to move in the small foyer.

      She wasn’t the only one who’d noticed their proximity. A quick glance brought her face-to-face with Jack’s dark gaze and the amusement softening the edges of his chiseled expression.

      Oh, he’d noticed their proximity, all right.

      And it looked as though Jack Sloan was the same charming rogue he’d always been. Not that he’d ever turned his charm her way. She hadn’t been worthy of his notice back in high school, but a girl would have had to be dead not to notice him. And everyone in Ashokan High, whether on top or bottom of the food chain, had known about Bluestone’s golden boy.

      “Please make yourselves comfortable.” Mrs. Hickman finally cleared the foyer and motioned toward the sofa.

      “No, thanks, ma’am.” Detective Tanner stood his ground on the edge of the living room. “Our questions won’t take long.”

      “What questions?” The captain’s raised voice rebounded off the walls in the apartment’s confines. “I already told your desk sergeant the report was a mistake. I only called the police because that television program…What’s the name of that program, Bonnie?”

      “Dateline, dear.”

      “Dateline. Those folks had a program on identity theft. They said the only protection a person has is to file a police report. My driver’s license was inside my wallet. My Social Security card, too. So I filed a report.”

      “Then your wallet turned up?” Jack asked.

      The captain nodded.

      Detective Tanner pulled a notepad from inside his jacket and jotted down a note. “How long was your wallet gone?”

      “Less than a day. I already told the desk sergeant.”

      Detective Tanner nodded. “Humor me, if you don’t mind, sir. You noticed your wallet missing right away then?”

      “Of course I did. Well…” The captain narrowed his eyes, clearly reconsidering. “I didn’t actually need it until we were at the mall in Kingston. But I’m sure it was in my pocket before then.” He raised a hand that trembled slightly and motioned to the coatrack behind the detective. “I keep it in my jacket pocket right there.”

      Mrs. Hickman didn’t look so sure, and both Jack and Detective Tanner appeared to notice.

      “Had you used anything in your wallet during the week prior to the mall trip?” Jack asked. “Your driver’s license or a credit card maybe? Is it possible your wallet had been missing before you noticed?”

      “No.” The captain shook his head emphatically.

      Mrs. Hickman backed him up. “I bought peach preserves at church on Sunday. He used his check card to pay.”

      Francesca knew what Jack was looking for—a time discrepancy. She’d reviewed the reports herself, but before she could think of a diplomatic way to mention that there had been one, Jack asked, “So you didn’t actually look for your wallet after you used your check card at church on Sunday until you were at the mall on Thursday?”

      “That’s right.”

      “The report stated you found your wallet here at the lodge on Friday, is that correct, sir?”

      Another nod.

      Detective Tanner scribbled a note on his pad. “Have you ever misplaced your wallet before, sir?”

      That was a loaded question. Sure enough, the captain sputtered his response, bristling, and Mrs. Hickman cast a worried gaze Francesca’s way.

      That was her cue. She needed to cut off this questioning before the captain got upset. He’d just completed a stint at the lodge’s nursing center, weeks of physical and occupational therapy to declare him fit enough to return to independent living after a flare-up of a heart condition. He’d been home only a few days before the wallet incident.

      Accidents happened. It wasn’t easy to make peace with the physical limitations of aging. Francesca hadn’t even crossed the hump to thirty-five, and she was getting a glimmer. Those extra five pounds she was suddenly unable to starve off had made her a target for her daughter’s comments about “muffin tops.”

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