Free A Haunting Dream (A Missing Pieces Mystery) by Joyce Lavene, Jim Page A

door open or an easily accessible window. I didn’t relish the idea of climbing up a trellis in my suit and heels to access a window, but I was going to get into Chuck’s house no matter what.
    The back door was locked too. No matter how much I shook the handle and threw myself against it, the portal wouldn’t budge. I was fairly sure I’d injured my shoulder, though, from the way it hurt. Who knew they made doors so solid?
    There were also no windows conveniently left open to catch the sweet morning breeze from the ocean. It took me about ten seconds to decide if I should break one of the windows. It seemed like it was the only way I was getting inside.
    I picked up a decorative rock from the garden and wrapped it in my scarf, preparing to pitch the whole thing through the glass. As I put my arm back in throwing position, a hand stopped me.
    “You know, this is how we first met—with you breaking into someone’s house.”
    Kevin’s voice and his hand on mine made me drop the rock. My heart zoomed up into my throat. “I wasn’t planning on breaking into Miss Elizabeth’s house that day. We didn’t know for sure what had happened to her. I was going to call the chief for help, which I did.”
    “So what makes this different?”
    I didn’t have an answer. I was very glad to see him. He looked so tall and handsome standing there. Still this was an investigation. “Why are
you
here?” I asked, falling back on that time-honored tradition of answering a question with a question—even though Gramps had once told me that was a surefire way to tell if someone was guilty of something.
    “I saw your golf cart in the driveway as I was going by. I thought you or Horace might need some help. But you haven’t answered my question. What brings the mayor of Duck out on a nice day like this to engage in breaking and entering?”
    I knew he wasn’t going to go away until I explained, so I gave him the basic information I had. “That’s why this is different. We know Chuck is dead, and I’m pretty sure his daughter is missing. I need some proof.”
    “I guess that makes sense.” He shrugged and looked at the window I was going to break. “Let’s see if we can find a way inside without breaking anything.”
    I tried not to look at him or admire his dark hair and ocean blue eyes. I tried not to remember that he tanned easily and he’d had sunburn only once while he was replacing the roof on the Blue Whale Inn.
    “This door doesn’t look too sturdy,” he decided. With a quick jab of his shoulder against the wood, it swung open. I massaged my shoulder, which had obviously loosened it up for him.
    I started to go in, but he held me back. “Are you armed?” he asked.
    “No. I’m just looking around. You know I don’t carry a gun.”
    He pulled a pistol out from beneath his blue hoodie. “We don’t know if anyone is in there. Chuck is dead. His killer could be living in here, for all we know. I’ll go in first.”
    “Won’t that just scare them back at me?”
    “If it does, I’ll turn around and shoot them. But usually people run the other way when they see a gun.”
    As soon as we entered the house, it was easy to tell something was up. Everything inside had been trashed. Dishes, forks and glasses were thrown everywhere. Tables and chairs were overturned.
    “Someone was looking for something,” Kevin whispered. “Keep your eyes open, Dae.”
    He didn’t have to tell me. I picked up a broken chair leg and brandished it before me like a club.
    “No blood. No signs of a struggle. What are we looking for?” Kevin stood in the middle of the room.
    “I don’t know. Something that proves Betsy Sparks was here and that something happened to her when her father was killed.”
    “Okay. That’s a tall order.”
    “I know.”
    We went slowly from room to room. Every room was demolished, like a hurricane had blown through. We went carefully across the living room and into Chuck’s bedroom. Kevin paused and