Page 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

An early riser, Sloan started to roll out of bed before the sun tipped above the eastern peaks.

Nash reached out, pulled her back.

“Saturday morning follows Friday night.”

“You know, I’ve noticed that.”

“In life, barring emergencies, it’s a good rule to stay in bed on Saturday mornings until the sun’s up.”

“I see your point.” Especially since they were both naked. “But what if you lived in, say, Alaska, in an area where in the winter it’s dark for weeks? Or alternately,” she continued as his teeth scraped lightly over the side of her throat, “in the summer when it’s light for weeks.”

“Overthinking.”

He rolled on top of her, and in the dark, found her lips with his.

Still soft and loose with sleep, she wanted that weight on her, wanted the pressure of those hard hands stirring the blood under her skin until warmth became heat. She wanted those lips, strong and sure, to seek and find all the ways to thicken her pulse and make her yearn.

Moment by moment, a touch, a taste woke her to a world of sensation. Rough stubble against her skin, firm muscles under the press of her fingers.

As those hard, calloused hands glided over her, they kindled little fires. Not to blaze, not now, not yet, but to spark and to spread as his mouth found hers.

The slow, lazy rhythm they made between them suited the quiet approach of dawn. No rush, no hurry, but time to savor, time to let arousal build like layers of thin, soft tissue.

He felt her give and give beneath him. Not a surrender, but more a meeting of minds and bodies he found impossibly sensual. In a welcoming, she gave because she wanted, and offered all he needed.

So what built between them in the quiet morning as dark lifted, as light quietly bloomed, spread into more than the physical.

As he slipped inside her, as they rose and fell together, he felt more than pleasure, more than the elemental need for release.

He felt his heart stumble. And joined with her, lost in her, didn’t try to catch it.

When she lay curled against him, her head on his shoulder, her hand over his heart, he wondered what the hell he could do about it.

He’d had a plan, a carefully made plan for the life he intended to make for himself. Build a business doing work that brought him pleasure and satisfaction. Bring an old neglected house back to life, his way. He’d estimated a couple of years to fully establish the business, about a year on the house. If either or both took longer, he’d still do the work and have the place he wanted.

She hadn’t been part of the plan.

So what the hell was he going to do now?

She shifted a little, let out one of those sexy purrs.

“What are you going to do now?”

For one shocked instant, he thought she’d crawled straight into his head.

“What? What?”

“What’s the rest of your Saturday look like?”

“Oh.” Jesus, whatever was going on inside him made him stupid. “We’ve got to install a new railing for a client, then take a look at another kitchen job. After that, we’re going to start on the office. Needs some built-ins, but otherwise it’s just paint, new lighting, cleaning up the existing trim.”

“Busy.” She sat up, stretched. “Me, too.” Tic got up, came wagging over to her side of the bed, and got some rubs. “I want to get a work out in, then it’s clean the house, do laundry before I can get into my office and do what I meant to do last night.”

“What was that?”

“Write up those interviews, think about them, pick through the case files again. Then think about that, which I’ll do on a hike. Maybe on Fox Tail.”

“Isn’t there still snow on the trails?”

“I have boots. Your dog wants to go out.”

“He’s Theo’s dog.”

“I believe he’s the Littlefields’ dog, of which you are one. You do that, I’ll get on my workout gear and make coffee.”

Since the dog continued to wag, but added some whines and a little dance, Nash got up to take care of it.

When he came back in and Tic rushed the bowls she’d already filled with food and fresh water, she stood pouring coffee.

And she wore a sleeveless black tank that showed hints of a red sports bra and tight, tiny black shorts.

“Well, okay, that might be even better than the cheerleader outfit.”

“Still no pom-poms,” she said, and handed him coffee. “Even a month ago, I could barely manage three burpees.”

“I hate burpees.”

“Everyone sane hates burpees. But I can do my twenty now.”

“I’d do twenty with you, then add another five to prove my superior manliness.”

She sent him a sour look over her coffee. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really. But there’s not enough space for two in that room you’ve got.”

“Barely space for me, but it works. You can grab something to eat if you want, and your sub’s in the fridge. I know you and Theo are coming to Sunday dinner, but—”

She broke off as Tic yipped and scrambled seconds before someone knocked on the door.

“Expecting anybody?”

“No.”

“Want me to hide in a closet?”

“No.” She eye-rolled and laughed. “We’re adults. Besides, your truck’s right out there.”

She crossed to the door, pointed at Tic.

“Sit.”

Then she opened the door, and before the dog could leap, she did.

“Oh my God, Joel!” Laughing she wrapped around him. “Sari, look at you!”

She opened one arm to draw the female—and pregnant, Nash noted—half of the couple into the hug.

“Surprise!” Sari laughed with it. “I know it’s early, but Joel wouldn’t wait. She’s up , he says. She’ll be up .”

“And I was right. Sis, you look good. You got a dog?” He bent to scrub his hands over Tic, who all but collapsed in worship.

“He’s not mine. Come in, come in out of the cold. When did you get here? You couldn’t have driven up from Annapolis this morning.”

“Last night,” Sari told her while Joel and Tic fell in love. “I was just too tired to go a step more. It’s a babymoon,” she added, rubbing circles on her baby bump. “We’re taking a long weekend, so—”

She broke off when she finally looked around enough to see Nash.

She had full, shapely lips, and they curved into a slow smile. “Oh, well, hi there.”

“Hi.”

“Oh, sorry, Joel and Sari Warren, Nash Littlefield.”

“Theo’s brother.” Joel straightened, but didn’t smile. “He’s marrying Drea.”

“We’re going to celebrate that when we have Sunday dinner at the Coopers’.” As she spoke, Sari walked over, extended a hand. “It’s great meeting you.”

“Nice meeting you.”

“Let me take your coats. Sit down! I’ve got coffee. You probably can’t have the coffee,” Sloan added as she took Sari’s coat.

“I had my one sad cup already. And I have to pee again anyway.”

“Right down here.”

Seconds later, as Joel measured Nash, Sari clapped her hands together. “Now, this is a bathroom. And it goes with your pretty living room. Honey, that kitchen’s just sad.”

“I know it.”

Nash stayed where he was. “You saved her life.”

“She had more to do with that than me.”

“You gave her the chance. I’m glad to meet you.”

“All right then.” Joel held out a hand, and finally smiled. “Same.”

Sloan came bustling back. “For a woman who had to pee, she demanded a tour of the bathroom first. Give me your coat, Joel.”

“Rules is rules. The woman won’t have you tossing your coat over a chair. Has to go in a closet.”

“I’ve noticed. I need to get mine out. I have to get going.”

“Don’t go off on our account.”

“I’ve got work.”

“Build stuff, right? You and your brother.”

“Build, repair, tear out, whatever the client wants.” He took his coat from Sloan. “We got all of that on today’s schedule. Enjoy your visit.” He looked at Sloan. “I’ll see you Sunday. Let’s go, Tic.”

Then realizing his instinct to just leave reached idiotic, he turned back, kissed her.

“Sunday,” he repeated, and took the dog out the door.

Joel waited a beat. “Girl, you got some ’splaining to do.”

She gave him her sweetest smile. “What? That I’m a grown woman, a single woman in an adult relationship with a single man?”

Sari came out of the bathroom, looked at the two of them, glanced around. “Did Mr. Smokin’ Hot leave?”

“He had work,” Sloan told her.

“Well, that’s a shame. That man is fine . You’ve been holding out on us, and I need details.” With a wicked look to Sloan, Sari jerked her head toward Joel. “When he’s not around trying to go big brother on you.”

“We don’t know anything about him.”

“I bet Sloan does. I’m going to sit here by this beautiful fire, with my back to that ugly kitchen. Didn’t you tell us that fine-looking man did some work in here?”

“That’s right. The bathroom—and when I show you the second one, which is in better shape than the other was, you’ll see he and Theo do good work. My father redid the fireplace, and Nash, Theo, and their helper did the rest of the living room.”

She took some pity on Joel. “He’s a good man, works hard and well, has a strong bond with his brother. He respects my work and me, and we enjoy each other’s company.”

“Does he listen when you talk?”

She smiled over at Sari. “Yes, he does.”

“And in that other area we’ll talk about later, does he work hard and well?”

As Joel winced, Sloan laughed. “Yes, he does.”

“All right then. Joel, sit your big brother ass down for a minute. We’ve got some news of our own.”

“What news?”

Sari clasped her hands together. “We bought a house!”

“What? When? I know you were looking, but—”

“We just couldn’t find the right one. When we’d find one, it’d be just out of our range, or we’d look at one in our range and it wasn’t in the right place, or needed too much work for us to take on.”

Joel finally sat. “We fell for this one. In just the right place, three bedrooms like we wanted, and two and a half baths, nice kitchen, sweet backyard. Have to finish the basement sometime. But the asking? Too much of a stretch.”

“We sent you a link to it a while back. Two-story colonial with a pretty front porch. I could just see myself sitting on that porch in the summer, drinking some lemonade.”

“You bought it!”

“Mama Dee and my mama put their heads together, and they—”

Sari waved a hand in front of her face as tears sprang. “I get weepy just thinking about it.”

“Honey, you get weepy these days if the batteries die in the remote.”

“I do. I just do. They helped us with the down payment. Enough we can afford the mortgage payments. We’re so grateful!” Sari pulled a tissue from the pocket of her maternity jeans.

“We’ll move in next month,” Joel added. “We’ll be all settled when the baby comes.”

“We’re doing up the nursery first thing, and we’ll bring our baby girl home to her own sweet room.” Another tear spilled before Sari levered herself out of the chair. “Show us the rest of your house before I flood the place.”

“There isn’t a lot more. Second bath.” With a gesture, Sloan led the way. “Second bedroom I’m using for workouts.”

Sari took one look at the second bathroom. “You say the other was worse than this?”

“Considerably.”

“Well then, that man doesn’t just do good work. He’s a remodeling genius. Tell me you’re going to set him loose on that pitiful kitchen.”

“In time. Exterior next, and I’m adding on a mudroom and front porch. The kitchen…” She shook her head as they walked back and into it. “I haven’t decided exactly what I want.”

“You got this little room off it. Office space.” Sari gave a nod. “Good use of it. I can see why you picked it, Sloan. It’s like a cozy cottage in the woods. And you know how to fix it up just right.”

Joel, his eyes on the wall, moved into the room. “What’s all this?”

“Something I’m working on. On my own time,” she added.

“Missing persons. Three of them, in just over three months.”

“Uh-oh, I see where this is going.” Sari held up both hands. “I’m fine with it. Give me a drink without caffeine and I’ll sit by that fire, look at baby furniture on my phone.

“I’m a police wife,” she said before Sloan could apologize. “When you pick out a husband, make sure he knows he’s marrying a cop.”

“I’ve got the best police wife, or any kind of wife, there is.”

Sari settled down with a ginger ale, her phone, and a trio of Oreo’s.

Joel stood in Sloan’s office, his hands in the pockets of his ancient jeans.

“Talk to me, sis.”

She did, giving him the details while he studied the board, looked through the files. They fell easily into their old rhythm as he swigged from a Coke.

“Crazy-ass motive, so you’ve got crazy-ass people.”

“I considered a group, like a cult, but—”

“Too many people means too many mouths that might talk, too much potential for screwups,” he finished. “Could be three, but more likely two, right? Have to have two.”

“One to drive, one to deal with the victim.”

He’d picked up one of the kitchen chairs, squeezed it into the room. He sat, foot tapping.

“They missed some weeks in there. Has to be a reason. No reports of attempted abductions?”

“No. It could be the target wasn’t available—broke pattern for some reason. Or the abductors ran into some issue. We had a bug going around, from up here, over into West Virginia, and down to Frederick County. A lot of people down with it through February.”

“Yeah, yeah, we had a couple out, caught it up this way. Hard to grab up people when you’ve got a head full of snot. Could be it.”

“Either way, they broke pattern. If they’re not finished, and why would they be, they’ll try again soon.”

“How about before Anderson?”

Yeah, she thought, she’d missed Joel.

“I haven’t found any that fit the exact pattern, but I have a couple I’m looking at. Listen, this is cutting into that babymoon. Why don’t I send you what I’ve got on potentials before Anderson? When you’ve got time—and not this weekend—you can see what you think.”

“You do that, and I’ll do that. I promised to take my lady shopping and for a nice lunch. I’m making us a romantic dinner tonight, then we’ll cuddle up with a romantic movie she can cry buckets over.”

“You’re a good man, Joel.”

“I love that woman,” he said as he rose. “And she’s making me a baby girl. What do you think about Josari?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, she doesn’t like it either. Plus, she said our girl should have a name of her own.”

“I think you married a wise woman.”

“Sis, I know how to pick ’em.”

Alone again, Sloan stripped the bed, gathered towels and other laundry, and made the trip to the basement. While that first Saturday chore began, she got in her delayed workout.

And wondered when she’d stop automatically assessing her system for problems.

Maybe never, she decided. And what did it matter? She had her strength and endurance back—or close to it. She felt like herself again.

As she showered off the workout, she admitted the scars bothered her. Part of that? Vanity. She accepted that. Beyond vanity lurked the memory. The moment. The shock, pain, blood, and all that followed.

If she dwelled on it, she went right back to the moment.

She’d pushed herself hip deep in cases that pulled her back into that moment. Or the moments, she thought as she dressed, where she floated above the operating table while the surgical team fought to bring her back from the dead.

Not only wouldn’t that stop her, it only made her more determined.

Someone used that victory as a reason or an excuse to turn it into a tragedy. She wanted to be a part of finding them, stopping them.

As she worked on her Saturday chores, her mind shifted back and forth between the case and home renovation. The fact she kept changing her mind on details—small and large—of her kitchen design cemented her decision to put that off.

Once she’d finished her chores, she settled back into her office to take another pass through missing persons prior to Janet Anderson.

She kept coming back to the woman with the dog.

“Doesn’t really fit,” she muttered. “Why does it keep pulling at me?”

All the others were white; Celia Russell was Black. No parking lot involved. Add the dog. Still, an abandoned car, vanished, no trace.

She dug a little more and found an article with a statement from a neighbor.

“What the hell, get it off your brain.”

She ran a search, found the neighbor’s number.

Got a cheery hello when she called.

“Ms. Foster?”

“That’s me!”

“Ms. Foster, I’m Sergeant Cooper with the Natural Resources Police.”

“Don’t that beat all! My nephew Mikey’s with the NRP up in Washington State. He just loves it. We went up for his wedding two years ago in June, and it’s easy to see why. Beautiful country.”

Sloan smiled to herself. This made it easy.

“I’m in Western Maryland, and I love it, too. Ms. Foster, I’m investigating some missing persons cases, and your neighbor Celia Russell’s name came up. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions.”

“Oh, Celia. I just don’t know what to think. I swear I don’t. We were friendly. Out here in the country, it’s smart to be friendly with neighbors. Her husband up and left her some years back, so me and mine checked in on her now and then.

“I told the police right off there’s no way Celia would’ve walked off like that. I think, I swear I think, somebody must’ve run her down when she was walking Misty—her dog? Somebody driving too fast killed her, then buried her body somewhere. I worried about her walking that sweet little dog, but Celia, she did love her walks.”

“She took them every day.”

“Sure did. Got herself a treadmill to use if the weather was just too bad, but she didn’t care for it. ‘Who wants to walk nowhere?’ she’d say to me. And she wanted the fresh air, even in the dead of winter.”

Sloan knew just how Celia Russell felt.

“I know y’all are calling it an abduction, but what sense is that? She wasn’t rich, nobody had a thing against her.”

“Could you tell me if Ms. Russell had any medical issues?”

“Like maybe she had a heart attack or stroke or something and stumbled off into the woods? No sense there either, as they searched all over and I expect that little dog would’ve run right back home.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. But—”

“But since you asked, she had that heart surgery back… when was that? I think back last February. Yes, that’s right. We kept Misty with us while she was in the hospital. Her daughter—she’s a good girl—came and stayed with her at the house for a week or so after.”

“She had heart surgery?”

“Had a bad valve in there, it turns out. She was looking poorly before, but they fixed her right up. To think she went through all that only to get run over by some speed demon!”

Sloan made notes, circled surgery , circled February .

“Were there any complications?”

“She was right as rain. Not that it was all easy-peasy. Took hours to fix her up, and she told me that her heart stopped while they were fixing her so they had to jolt her back.”

Even as she spoke, Sloan took the photo of Celia Russell she’d printed out and tacked it to the wall. “Her heart stopped during the surgery?”

“For a minute or two. It’s a miracle of God and man what doctors can do, isn’t it? I take some comfort she had those good months between.”

“I wonder what hospital she was in.”

“WVU, in Morgantown. She said it’s the best there is, and they sure took care of her. I don’t suppose they’ll ever find who ran her down that way.”

“I know the investigators continue to look. I appreciate your time, Ms. Foster.”

“She was a good woman and a good neighbor. I’m glad to help.”

“And you did,” Sloan murmured when she hung up. “Celia Russell, end of September. Were you the first? Maybe, maybe not. But this makes four.”

She shoved at her hair, and her hand passed over the scar on her forehead before she got up to add notes to her wall.

Then she sat and began to look into October.

An hour later, she contacted O’Hara.

“I think I found two more.”

When she hung up this time, she rubbed at her stiff neck. She needed to get up, get outside. Too late in the day for that hike, she decided, but a long walk would do the job.

Clear her head, let it simmer.

But first she turned back to her board. Five on there now, she thought. Young, old, Black, white, male, female.

With one thing connecting them.

Each had been given life after death.

With Theo and Robo, Nash studied the empty space of the home office, and the paint samples stuck to the wall.

“I like the gray, the middle one. It’s kind of smoky.”

Nodding at Theo’s opinion, Nash continued to study.

“It’d look good,” Robo agreed. “So would that brown. Like a Hershey bar. It’s manly. Nothing wrong with that blue either. It’s—what’s the word?—muted like.”

Nash propped the walnut wood strip beside each choice.

“No wrong choice. The built-ins we’re doing work with all of these. I want to see how they all look tomorrow, morning light, early afternoon.”

His desk from his home office in New York remained in storage, but it would work, too.

“Boss?”

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering. I like painting just fine, and the other work you give me. The fact is, I’ve never liked a job like this one. I was wondering if maybe you could teach me some more. Like how you and Theo do the built-ins you got started in your shop, and how you figure how to lay tile so it works out perfect.”

“Angling for my job?” Theo gave him an elbow jab.

“Aw, come on.” Smiling, Robo hunched his shoulders. “If you don’t have time for it, that’s okay. I just wondered.”

“You come over at nine tomorrow,” Nash told him. “We’re finishing the first built-in. We’ll show you how it’s done.”

“For real?” He lit up like Christmas. “I’ll be here for sure.”

Someone knocked on the front door. Tic raced out to welcome them.

“That can’t be Drea yet. She said closer to six.”

He trooped out and opened the door to Sloan.

“Hey! Come on in.”

Tic blocked her entrance with wags and happy whines before he sat and held up a paw.

“Look at that. You taught him to shake.” Sloan obliged him.

“You got him to sit, and once he had that—we’re still working on down—shake was easy. Come on back. We’re looking for opinions.”

“I always have one.”

He led her to the home office.

Nash turned, studied her. “How was your hike?”

“I finished too late in the day for a good one, so opted for a nice walk. This is a wonderful space. Plenty of natural light.”

“It’s gonna be the office,” Robo told her.

“Mmm. So, built-ins flanking the big window.”

“That’s the plan,” Nash said.

“Walnut.” She gestured toward the lumber. “Nice.”

“Choosing paint colors.” Theo hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. “Weigh in.”

“They’re all good, all say something different. That chocolate brown needs to go somewhere. It’s so rich. But in here, with all that walnut, I’d probably go for that middle gray.”

“Score.” Theo pumped his fist.

“But. I’d want to see it in different lights.”

“That’s what the boss said,” Robo told her. “If we’re finished for the day, I’ll get going. I’ve got a date and want to clean up.”

“Bowling girl?”

With a glance at Theo, Robo flushed a little. “We’re getting a pizza, then going to the arcade. Skee-Ball, pinball, and all that.”

“Have fun. Nine tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here. See you around, Sloan.”

“Let’s have your coat.” Theo moved to help her off with it as the dog raced out to say goodbye to Robo. “How about a drink? It’s five o’clock on Saturday, and we’re not picking up any power tools.”

“I can’t stay long, but thanks. Just wanted a good walk.”

“You should stay for dinner.”

“Oh, I—”

“Drea’s making your mom’s beef stew and bringing it over about six. She had some paperwork, and we were demoing, or she’d have made it here in our high-class kitchen.”

Tic pranced in with a ball, dropped it at Theo’s feet.

“He wants out. Stay,” he repeated. “It’ll be like our little Saturday family dinner.”

He tossed the ball so Tic gave wild chase, then walked out with Sloan’s coat to get his own.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.” Not the time to tell him she’d found two more.

“I take it babymoon means you’re not hanging out with your friends tonight.”

“No. I’ll see them tomorrow. Tonight, they’ve got a romantic dinner and movie planned.”

“Then stay. Theo knows we’re sleeping together. He beat me home, and he asked. I don’t lie to him.”

“No, I wouldn’t want you to. It’s not some secret assignation, Nash.”

“Good. So stay. I’ll drive you home in the morning, or you can walk, since you like walking.”

“I’m so good at it now. It’s a perfect night for beef stew. Got a spare toothbrush?”

“As a matter of fact.”

He crossed over, pulled her in.

“This is the right time,” Clara said. “And the right way. You okay back there, doll?”

“All good, babe.”

“She’s getting ready to close. I can see her through the window. Nine o’clock. And I’m going to time it just right. Just like we planned. You be ready.”

“Always am.”

“All right then. Here goes.”

As Lori Preston stepped out of her empty shop, checked the door to make sure it was locked, Clara pulled the van next to her car.

And jumped out.

“Oh no! I couldn’t get here sooner. Don’t tell me you’re closed. I need a birthday gift for tomorrow. You’ve got those pink crystal holders for the tea lights? I saw on your Facebook page.”

“I sure do.” Lori shot out a welcoming smile. “I’m happy to open up for you,” she said, and turned away from her car.

Seconds later, without a peep, she was in the back of the van.

Clara pulled out, gave the tattoo parlor a quick glance, and drove out carefully.

“She doesn’t open until noon tomorrow. Nobody’ll even know she’s gone till then. And maybe even later. How’s she doing?”

“Out like a light.”

“Let’s keep her that way. I’m looking forward to hearing her story in the morning.”

“Me, too, babe.”

He’d started to look forward more to the after, but he liked the stories, too.