Free Hot by Julia Harper

would you keep them? Not at his bank desk, surely. Even Calvin
     wasn’t that confident. Besides, she’d searched there more than once and had never found anything besides the safe deposit
     key. That left this house. Another drawer held a file of brochures for fishing boats and motors, maintenance records for the
     Caddy, and the mortgage information for a lake cabin.
    Surely he wouldn’t keep it in the car. Shannon could run across it at any time, and Turner didn’t think Shannon knew about
     her husband’s illegal activities. At least she couldn’t see Shannon—the biggest gossip in town—keeping silent about them if
     she did.
    She pulled out the center drawer again, and her eyes hit the key ring. A cabin. Would Calvin hide the evidence there? It wouldn’t
     be as accessible as the house, but it wouldn’t be hard to get at, either. Who questioned a man visiting his own cabin? And
     in Calvin’s case, a cabin would have the added bonus of not being under Shannon’s daily control. He wouldn’t have to worry
     about her finding suspicious books while he was away at work.
    Turner picked up the key ring and examined it. Two of the keys were identical and looked like they fit an ordinary door lock.
     The remaining two were different. One was for an ignition, the other a small, narrow key.
    She pocketed them all. She glanced at the wall clock, which took the form of a walleye circling a fishing lure. 6:45 p.m.
     The Hymans shouldn’t be back for another hour or more, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
    She took a piece of printer paper and wrote down the address of the cabin listed on the mortgage papers. Then she stood and
     looked around the room. She had a strong urge to smash the computer and all the pretty sailing instruments. The Lord knew
     Calvin deserved it. But that wouldn’t help her cause. Instead, she switched off the computer and replaced everything neatly,
     just to mess with his mind.
    She backtracked to the master bedroom. Ew. The bedspread was quilted pink satin and had flying pigs on it. She upended the
     paper sack onto the middle of the tacky bedspread. Gold coins, jewelry, stocks, and a couple of certificates of deposit slithered
     around the spread. All from Calvin’s safe deposit box.
    Turner suddenly thought about the FBI agent who’d called her. What would he think when he saw what she’d done? Would he understand
     the message to Calvin? It gave her an odd feeling, knowing that MacKinnon was following in her footsteps, analyzing her every
     move. Not that it mattered. Her message was for Calvin, and he’d surely understand what it meant:
I’m not after your money. I’m after you.
    Turner smiled. She did a quick check of the rest of the house, just in case she was wrong about where Calvin would hide the
     evidence, but didn’t find anything more incriminating than bad decorating taste. Half an hour later, she gave up and went
     back downstairs.
    Outside, the dog must’ve lost interest waiting for her to return, because he’d laid back down on the concrete floor of his
     kennel, mailbox head on his crossed paws. He came to his feet as she exited the broken patio doors, and then he gave a tentative
     tail wag. Turner ignored him and began walking around the house.
    Behind her, a low moan started.
    She kept going.
    The moan turned to a mournful howling.
Roooow. Rooroooow. Rorororwoooooow. Eek!
The howl ended on a strange high squeak.
    Turner swung around. “Hush!” she hissed at the animal sternly. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, a great big dog crying like
     a puppy?”
    His jaw dropped open, huge tongue lolling as he wagged his tail at her.
    Turner frowned at him and noticed an overturned red bowl by the door of the kennel. “What did you do? Flip your water bowl?”
    At her words, the dog’s entire rear end started wiggling. She sighed, unlocked the kennel, and reached in carefully for the
     bowl. The dog watched her, tail slowly wagging. She found the outside