Free The Hero’s Sin by Darlene Gardner Page B

“What is it?”
    “The phone…” Her voice trailed off again.
    “What about the phone?” Michael prodded as gently as he could, hiding his frustration. Not so much at the interruption as his own inability to put a halt to the kiss. “Who was it?”
    “He didn’t say.” She seemed reluctant to continue. “He said…he said I should tell you that you should never have come back.”
    “Well, of all the nerve.” Sara fumed, the first thing she’d said since the kiss. “Did you check caller ID?”
    “I don’t have caller ID,” Aunt Felicia said. “And I didn’t recognize the voice.”
    “Anybody cowardly enough not to identify himself doesn’t deserve to be listened to.” Sara sounded like the lawyer she was, confident and sure of herself. “Just forget he ever called.”
    “That’s not all,” Aunt Felicia ventured. “He said Michael should check his car.”
    Michael was out of the swing almost before she finished the sentence, striding down the steps and to the curb where he’d parked the PT Cruiser. The rental was between street lamps, more in shadow than in light. Something about the car seemed off-kilter. As he neared, he realized the reason. The body of the car sat much lower to the street than it should.
    “Somebody slashed your tires!” Sara ran ahead ofhim to the car. “Can you believe it? Who would do something like this?”
    Michael could come up with a dozen candidates, with Kenny Grieb topping the list. There weren’t many people in town who wouldn’t think he had worse things coming to him than slashed tires.
    “Well, they’re not getting away with it.” Sara pulled a razor-thin cell phone from the deep pocket of her dress and flipped up the cover.
    Michael closed his hands over hers. “What are you doing?”
    “Calling the police.”
    “No.”
    “No?” Even though it was dark, he could see white all around her pupils. “Why not?”
    “Because I’ll take care of it. My rental insurance should cover the damage.”
    “Somebody deliberately slashed your tires!” She said the words slowly as though he didn’t grasp the full import of what had happened.
    He had a much better idea than she did.
    “It’s not worth making a big deal over,” he said.
    “It is if the vandal’s still out there slashing somebody else’s tires!”
    Michael walked to the Volkswagen parked behind the PT Cruiser, verifying its tires were fine. So, too, were the tires on the Chevy across the street. “It’s only my car.”
    “You can’t possibly know that!”
    But he did. He’d have known it without the anonymous call. “Drop it, Sara.”
    “This is something that should be reported, notdropped. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only one who had his tires slashed. It’s a crime, and criminals should suffer consequences.”
    She sounded like a lawyer in a courtroom fighting for truth, justice and the American way. A lawyer without all the facts. She got her phone in position to dial again.
    “I said butt out, Sara,” he said tightly. “It’s not your problem. Not your business.”
    His harsh words sliced through the night. She recoiled. A weaker woman might have surrendered to tears, but a blankness descended over Sara’s face.
    “I need to be going.” The warmth was gone from her voice, something that Michael could only blame on himself. “Please thank your aunt again for dinner.”
    “I’ll walk you to your car,” Michael offered.
    “No need for that. Good-night.” She walked stiffly away, obviously angry.
    He smothered the urge to chase her and explain, but it was best she didn’t get involved with his problems. And she wouldn’t, if he could stay away from her for four more days. With any luck, his aunt’s trouble would be over after that meeting at the bank on Friday.
    Now all he had to figure out was how to keep his distance from a woman he desperately wanted while working downstairs from where she lived.
     
    T HE SOLES of Sara’s running shoes squeaked as she