Free Undeniably Yours by Heather Webber Page B

of barks echoed back. It reminded me of a scene in 101 Dalmatians , which made me smile, and just like that, my nerves calmed. Good . I hoped that within the hour Aiden and I would have a much better idea of what we were up against with Kira’s disappearance.
    “Hey!” someone shouted from nearby. “It’s about time you showed up.”
    I turned and found an angry man scowling from the other side of a short picket fence that separated his yard from Kira’s.
    Aiden took off his sunglasses and said, “Pardon?”
    “You’re the cops, right?” the guy asked, jerking his chin toward Aiden’s car where the lights still flashed. “I’ve been calling for days, and it’s about time they sent someone out.”
    Aiden pushed open a gate and crossed the small patch of lawn, toward the fence. I followed along, hoping my crutches wouldn’t sink into the ground.
    “And you are?” Aiden asked, giving the man an intense stare down.
    “Morgan Creighton,” he said, straightening to try and match Aiden’s height.
    I pegged him to be five feet eight or so. Matching Aiden’s height was impossible.
    I’d assumed Morgan had been a woman. Color me embarrassed. Instead, he was a good-looking guy. Mid-to-late-thirties. Light skin with a sprinkle of freckles and light brown beard stubble. Brown hair, loosely styled. He wore khaki shorts, a wrinkled short-sleeve shirt, and Nike sandals. No wedding ring.
    Aiden held out his hand. “Detective Lieutenant Aiden Holliday.”
    Morgan’s face flushed red as a maraschino cherry and his hand stalled on the way to meet the handshake. His brown eyes widened. It was quite evident from his reaction that he knew exactly who Aiden was.
    Morgan’s house was a traditional colonial, its clapboard freshly stained a slate blue. White trim popped against the color, and fieldstone accents cemented its New England charm. A beautiful collie that looked exactly like Lassie stood behind a closed screen door, letting out random barks at our interaction.
    “This is a colleague of mine, Lucy Valentine,” Aiden said, introducing me.
    “Hi,” I said, gripping the handles of my crutches so I wouldn’t have to shake hands.
    “I don’t understand.” Morgan set his hands on his hips. “Are you here because I called? Or here because…” He seemed to struggle to finish the statement without coming right out and calling Aiden on his former relationship with Kira.
    Aiden barely mollified the man by saying, “I know nothing of your calls to the local police.”
    “Then why…?” Morgan asked.
    “I suspect,” I said, “we’re here for the same reason you called the police in the first place. Kira’s missing.”
    The man seemed to slump in relief. “Yes. Kira and Ava. I got home late Thursday night to find Kira’s dog in my backyard with a half a bag of food and some toys but no note, no explanation. Kira’s not answering calls, and I’ve been collecting her papers and mail. This isn’t like her,” he said. “And I’m worried.”
    “You’re close friends?” Aiden asked, a lift to his brow.
    Morgan said, “We’re close friends, yes, but not dating if that’s what you’re getting at.” He added, pointedly, “Her type is apparently six-feet, blond hair, blue eyes.”
    I bit back a laugh. It appeared he was right. The description fit both Aiden and Trey Fisher.
    “I waited a day,” he continued, “for her to come back then called the police to report her missing, but you wouldn’t believe the hoops you have to jump through to prove someone is actually missing and not missing because they want to be missing.” He tipped his head. “Did that make sense? I filed a report yesterday, but can’t help but feel like no one took me seriously.”
    I knew all about the hoops. It bordered on ridiculous.
    “No one wants to believe something’s wrong. But something is. Kira wouldn’t leave Scout with me all this time otherwise—she knows I’m allergic.”
    “Scout?” I echoed.
    “The