Free The Honeymoon Cottage (A Pajaro Bay Romance) by Barbara Cool Lee Page A

March the 9th. So Oliver had lived with his mother until two years ago?
    The woman in the picture was darkly beautiful, with a warm smile. She had left behind Dennis, her "loving husband," and her beloved six-year-old son, Oliver.
    Poor kid. And now his father was gone, too. At least Oliver was in good hands with Camilla.
    He read the article over again, more slowly. Something was off, but he couldn't pin it down.
    He picked up the phone.
    "Sacramento Investigations," the voice on the phone said.
    "Paul?"
    Detective Paul Graham dropped the official neutrality from his voice. "Hey! Ryan. You really going through with your plan?"
    "Yup."
    The answer was clipped, but Paul kept pushing. "If you're sick of living at the beach, you could come back to work with us. You know how much it would mean to the squad. I owe you my own life twice over, Ryan—"
    "—Listen, partner," Ryan cut in before Paul started making a big deal about their old times together. "I'm actually calling you for a favor."
    "Anything, man. Say the word."
    "I'm working a case here." That sounded more professional than saying he was playing a hunch, so he went with it. "I've got a fugitive I'm trying to trace, wanted for larceny."
    "Ooh, a big case out there at the beach," Paul said. "What did he steal? A pair of flip-flops?"
    "Fairly big," Ryan said calmly. "Payroll worth more than a mil."
    Paul whistled. "Oh. That big."
    "Yeah. He has family in my jurisdiction. I'm doing some background on him, see if I can get a lead."
    "Anything I can help with, just ask."
    "A car accident, two years ago. March the 9th. Joyce Ashford Henning."
    Ryan heard the computer keys clicking. "How's this related to your perp?"
    "He was husband of the dead woman."
    "Think it's a homicide?"
    As soon as Paul said it, Ryan knew that was exactly what he was thinking. But he had no logical reason for believing that. Just something that didn't add up about Camilla, and little Oliver, and the missing Dennis. "Not necessarily. Just checking."
    "No murder here. Single car accident. Late at night on a wet road. She hit a guardrail and gas tank punctured. Explosion rocked two city blocks."
    "Autopsy?"
    "Let me check." A pause, then he was back on the line. "What was left of her. Identified through dental records. No sign of drugs or alcohol. No suspicion of foul play in the report. Just one of those things."
    "Thanks. Gotta go."
    "Ryan—wait." Ryan waited for it, knowing what was coming. "You know you're welcome to come for a visit anytime—or, hey. I can take a couple of days off and drive over to the coast. We can go fishing or something."
    Right. And he could spend a couple of days being told what a "hero" he was and how he was such a "good cop," and how he shouldn't give up his "life's work." No, thanks. "That's a great idea, Paul. But not right now. I've got some stuff to take care of. I'll call you soon. Bye."
    He hung up before Paul could start in again. He didn't need anyone trying to get him to talk about it. He was so sick of that phrase. There was nothing to talk about.
    Joyce Henning's funeral notice was still up on his computer screen. Ryan almost hit the button to close the screen, but hesitated. The smiling woman with short dark hair and Oliver's eyes stared back at him from the computer. His gut was telling him something and he couldn't let it go, not quite yet.
    He picked up the phone again. "Hector?" There were sounds of a car revving in the background.
    "Hey, Dude," came Hector's voice over the phone. "Your car's almost ready. The new muffler came in yesterday, and I got the pony seats installed and—"
    "I'm calling about the car from this morning."
    "Oh, yeah. I was just going to call the lady. Manuel, knock off the noise—I'm on the phone with the fuzz." The engine sound died off in the background.
    "Hector?"
    "Yeah, I'm here, sheriff dude."
    "You found out what's wrong with Ms. Stewart's car?"
    "The pretty lady's car? Did I ever."
    "Yeah?" Ryan prompted patiently. Hector