Free Indelible by Kristen Heitzmann Page A

Hotel in the heart of Old Town hearkened back to genteel times with spoked gingerbread trim in the archways; sheer-draped, leaded-glass windows; and beveled mirrors in carved frames. Sitting at the table with Fleur and her friends, Natalie felt the pressure inside her easing. These people were genuine and funny.
    She listened with dismay and amusement as Fleur’s roommate, Piper, told about her first experience in the grand old dining room. “My date drugged my wine and it turned blue, but did I notice? I’d have chugged squid ink to kill Bob Betters’s droning on and on and on.”
    “Some men have that effect,” Fleur agreed.
    “Bob should drink squid ink,” Miles mumbled. “Every day. A complete diet of squid ink.”
    “What happened?” Natalie leaned in.
    “Chief Westfall saw the whole thing and arrested him on the spot. I wish I could remember Bob Betters getting perp-walked through the restaurant he thought would impress my socks off.”
    “You’re better off with socks on,” Miles quipped. “And Bob can’t eat here anymore. He has to eat squid ink.”
    Piper giggled. “Well, it’s true he can’t eat here. The owner banned him.”
    Fleur said, “Why did you even go out with him?”
    “Coercion.”
    Miles looked grieved. “I should drink squid ink. Squid ink for me.”
    “Stop it, Miles. Don’t even say it.”
    A towering, slope-shouldered man with a mild face and goofy haircut, Miles looked less like the genius geek Piper claimed he was, than a melancholy circus clown who might slip into a slow soft-shoe. His sizeable frame was not athletic like Trevor’s, but ungainly, as though it still took him by surprise.
    “Bob’s a bully,” Piper said. “Feeling bad lets him win.”
    “We’ll drop the squid ink.” Miles squirted his hands with disinfectant as though washing the slate clean. “Squid ink’s run its course.”
    “Sure has.” She laughed. “Remind me not to fuel your fire.”
    “Squid ink. Fuel of the future.”
    “Oh my gosh.” Piper clapped her hands to her head. “If anyone could do that, it’s you. But if you say it once more, I will tickle you.”
    Miles drew a straight face and refrained from speaking.
    Piper crumpled. “You know I won’t, right?”
    He gave a solemn nod, but still looked peaked.
    “Well, okay then.”
    Barbie-doll tall and blond, Piper seemed truly fond of the big guy, whose idiosyncrasies didn’t hide his keen intelligence and dry wit. Natalie warmed. They might be the only misfits in town, but with them she wasn’t a pariah. She just had to avoid people who thought she was. She excused herself when her phone vibrated, hoping fiercely it was Aaron, but she didn’t recognize the number and let it go.
    “Bob Betters wasn’t your worst nightmare,” Fleur told Piper.
    “Isn’t that the truth?” Sobering, Piper took a swallow of her lemonade, and then told her what happened last fall in their sweet mountain community.
    Natalie shook her head. “The woman kidnapped you to save her sister?”
    “In her own special world.”
    Miles muttered something low.
    “As awful as it was for you”—Fleur touched Piper’s hand—“I’ve never heard of anything so sad as that poor woman.”
    Piper shuddered. “Good thing lightning never strikes twice. Redford’s had its monster.”

    “You’re staring.” Sue elbowed him.
    At a table near Piper’s, Jonah grunted. He had gathered his off-duty officers at Redford’s nicest restaurant to celebrate Sue’s birthday, since her husband had been killed last year and between the job and two little ones, she hardly ever got out. That elbow might be a contributing factor. “I was remembering.”
    She leaned her chin on her fist. “Collaring Bob Betters for drugging Piper? Or how wrong you were about Miles?”
    “You’re feeling it tonight, aren’t you, Officer Donnelly?”
    Her dimples peeked out. “Or did you enjoy Piper’s recounting your rescuing her from a strange and gruesome fate?”
    “As you