Free Dark Whispers by Debra Webb Page A

but it was from the air bag and not from the loneliness. A frown furrowed her forehead. When had she become so obsessed with being alone?
    For the first time she wondered if she would ever have a sex life again. She’d wondered plenty of times if her life would ever be normal but she hadn’t afforded any time on the subject of sex. Sadly, it took only one handsome man under the same roof with her to remind her of all that she was missing. Most women her age were married and had a child already.
    Before she climbed back into bed she downed the remainder of the wine. Curling up beneath the covers, she sighed and closed her eyes. She sifted through the day’s events. She replayed the moments in the car before the air bag hit her in the face and then the hours at the ER. The unpleasant scene in the driveway with her sister and the examination of the garage for signs of foul play. But the last thought tugging at her before she slipped into the darkness was of the man downstairs and how grateful she was to have him here.
    She didn’t want to be alone.

Chapter Seven
    Birmingham Regional Lab Thursday, September 22, 10:15 a.m.
    Ricky Vernon passed the report he held to Clint. “Whoever did this knew what he was doing. This was no amateur job. The new sensor was set to engage the air bag as soon as she reached a speed of sixty miles per hour.”
    Clint glanced at Natalie’s BMW. The vehicle would have to be towed to the dealer for repair. All sensors would need to be checked. They couldn’t be sure of the true extent of the damage to the electronic systems.
    Vernon brushed his brown hair back from his face and adjusted his glasses. His button-down shirt was wrinkled with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The trousers bore the same telltale signs of a long day in the lab that had extended through the night and into the next day. Some women considered the rumpled geeky look sexy. Clint wondered if Natalie would prefer Vernon’s type.
    She’d seemed nervous last night when he interrupted her return to her room with a glass of wine. Had she forgotten he was in the house? Or had she wandered down the stairs wearing a nightgown and no robe on purpose? One narrow strap of the gown had fallen off her shoulder, but the way the hem hit midthigh was the most surprising. She spent her days in those fashionably conservative suits that hardly showed her great body. Last night she’d looked young and innocent, vulnerable. Not the kind of woman who would want a man like him.
    Vernon spoke again, drawing Clint’s wayward attention. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
    “This isn’t the first time this vehicle has been tampered with,” the forensic expert repeated. “The main brake line has been repaired. It appears to have been damaged at one time, but the damage was a straight cut, which I find indicative of tampering versus some sort of normal wear and tear. At some point later it was repaired.”
    “Would this have been recent?” A new kind of tension rippled through Clint.
    Vernon shook his head. “Since the vehicle has been garaged for the better part of two years, it would be difficult to guess based solely on the road film and breakdown from routine exposure to the elements. But according to the maintenance log in the glove box, the brakes were repaired twenty-six months ago.”
    Two months before her fall down the stairs.
    “Thanks, Vernon. I owe you one.”
    “Anytime. Lieutenant Harper said someone’s life depended on the findings.” Vernon glanced beyond the glass wall that divided the lab from his office on the other side where Natalie waited. Harper and Cook had arrived and were talking to her. “It’s nice for a change to be able to help someone before the worst happens.”
    Far too often by the time evidence like this made it to the lab someone was dead.
    Clint was very glad Natalie was unharmed for the most part. He intended to do whatever necessary to see that she stayed that way.
    Clint assured Vernon he