Free In Dark Waters by Mary Burton Page A

soon." She stepped back and held out her arm. "Come on in."
    He was struck by two things. First, the hallway was completely clean. Not only had the papers been cleaned out, but the floor had been swept. Without the clutter, the entryway was brighter, more inviting. Second was the smell of tomatoes, basil and garlic drifting from the kitchen. He remembered then that he hadn't eaten since lunch.
    "You've been busy."
    "Your nephews were a big help. Thanks for sending them." She closed the door behind him.
    Standing next to him in her bare feet, she barely reached his shoulder. Once she'd fit nicely in the crook of his arm. "They didn't give you any trouble, did they?"
    "They were perfect gentlemen." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A small gold hoop earring glistened from her small earlobe. "Rick told me he was on probation."
    Mitch grunted. "He'll be lucky if he works off his indenture before he hits thirty."
    She chuckled. "Give the kid a break. Weren't you young and stupid once?"
    He didn't dare touch that one. "Look, I don't want to take up a lot of your time. I came to give you the preliminary results."
    She moistened her lips. "Are you hungry?"
    The question caught him off guard, but he recovered. She wasn't ready to hear what he had to say yet. "Starving."
    "Come on back to the kitchen. My marinara is already and the pasta is cooked."
    He followed her down the wide hallway to the kitchen. The room was large with an overhead fluorescent light that shone down on a pink and gray Formica floor. Along the north wall was an old white stove, a wide porcelain sink with a drying rack next to it, and a narrow counter. To his right was a refrigerator that had to be fifty years old.
    A gray table trimmed in dull chrome and surrounded by four matching chairs was piled high with boxes of papers, as were the far corners of the kitchen.
    "Smells good." He never figured her for a cook.
    There were two pots on the stove—one for sauce and one with cooked pasta glistening with butter. "I learned to cook a few dishes when I was in Italy. I got tired of eating in restaurants."
    She found two bowls from the cupboard, washed them and then placed a healthy serving of pasta in each. She ladled marinara on each and grated fresh cheese and pepper on top. She handed him the bowl. "Wine?"
    "Water's good."
    "Sure." She poured one glass of ice water and one red wine. "Let's go sit on the back porch and eat. Then we can talk. I haven't had a chance to clean this room yet and I get antsy around the clutter."
    "Lead the way." He followed her outside and they both sat on the back step. The night was cool and the air clean. Suddenly, he could feel the tension draining from his back. He took a bite of pasta and, to his surprise, discovered it was good.
    They ate in silence for several minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. Mitch liked sitting beside her. He liked having her close. The realization nearly made him laugh. What was it about him and difficult women? After he and his ex had broken up for good, he'd sworn no more complications. And here he was. But it really wasn't fair to compare Kelsey and Alexa. Alexa was a clinger. Whether it was city life, her friends or him, she always needed someone. Kelsey had her quirks, but she could stand on her own two feet.
    Kelsey set her fork down. She held the earthenware bowl in her hands, staring ahead into the dark. "The body was Donna, wasn't it?" He set his bowl down. "Yes." She shoved out a sigh. "It's not like I didn't know it anyway."
    It was one thing to have a gut feeling. Another to have facts. "Right."
    "How did she die?"
    He hesitated. "We don't have the full report yet."
    "But you have a theory." He sighed. "She was shot in the chest." She squeezed her eyes closed. "She was murdered?"
    "Yes." He wanted to take her in his arms. She looked so alone and fragile at this moment. "Is there anyone I can call for you—someone you can stay with?" She straightened her shoulders. "No, I'm