Free Sheltering Dunes by Radclyffe

settled. “So she’s either off the grid, or she’s not who she wants us to think she is.”
    “That’s my take on it.”
    “There’s no law against flying under the radar. Of course, if she’s working, she ought to be paying taxes.”
    “She’s working, all right. I just saw her in the Piper.” Allie drew in a deep breath that made Reese think she wasn’t happy about what she was going to say. “You think we should bring her in?”
    “We don’t have any real reason to do that.” Reese walked into the guest room where she kept extra clothes so she could dress in the middle of the night without waking Tory. She opened the closet door and pulled a khaki uniform shirt off the hanger. “I can meet you at the station and we can talk about it.”
    “Oh hell, no. I don’t want to drag you out tonight. I just have this feeling—”
    “Tremont,” Reese said, “if you’ve got a feeling, don’t ignore it. You’ve got good instincts.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.”
    Reese smiled. “We need to do a lot more digging before we draw any conclusions.”
    “I can widen the computer searches.”
    “Absolutely, that’s a place to start. We ought to send her picture around and see if that pops anything for us.” Reese shrugged into the shirt but left it unbuttoned. “I’ll come in early tomorrow morning and we can get started. Good enough?”
    “I, uh, thought maybe I’d just keep an eye on her tonight.”
    “A stakeout? What else is going on that makes you think there’s something there?”
    “I talked to her tonight. She looked like she was a second away from running.”
    “Again,” Reese said softly. The girl was clearly afraid of the authorities. That could mean anything—she could be a victim just as easily as she could be a problem. “If she goes straight home, I want you to do the same. I don’t want you running any kind of surveillance by yourself. If you have the slightest suspicion of anything off, I want you to call me. I’ll be your backup.”
    “Yes ma’am,” Allie snapped, and Reese could almost see the salute.
    “Well done, Tremont.” Reese started back to the bedroom. “Remember, you even get a twinge that something is off, I want a call.”
    “You got it, Sheriff.”
    Reese disconnected and slipped back into the bedroom, making her way to the bed in the dark.
    “You have to go?” Tory asked.
    Reese sat on the side of the bed and set the phone on the bedside table. “No. That was Allie, calling about the girl you had in your clinic this morning. She doesn’t seem to have any verifiable identity.”
    Tory slid her hand under Reese’s shirt and rubbed her back. “What do you think that means?”
    “Almost anything.” Reese shrugged out of the shirt, tossed it onto a nearby chair, and got back under the covers. She pulled Tory into her arms and kissed her. “Sorry I woke you.”
    “That’s okay. I think just to be extra sure, we should try that helping-hand thing again.”
    Reese chuckled. “Does just thinking about getting pregnant make you horny?”
    “Darling, you make me horny.” Tory pulled Reese on top of her. “You’re not tired, are you?”
    “Not even a little. I’m all yours.”
    “Of course you are. And right now, I have work for you.”
    Reese kissed her. Allie would call if she needed her. Right now, Tory was all that mattered.

Chapter Eight
     
    Flynn finished her Diet Coke and turned the empty glass between her hands, watching the last of the ice melt. Mica had signaled she was finishing up and would be ready to leave soon. Mica worked quickly and efficiently, clearing glasses and empty bottles from tables around the room, emptying ashtrays on the open deck that extended over the beach, restocking the bar. She didn’t seem to notice the appreciative glances from the women, mostly singles now, occupying stools at the bar or leaning on the deck in casual poses, appraising their chances of company for the night. Flynn didn’t want to be one of the women