Free The Homecoming by JoAnn Ross Page A

morning—”
    “You called a civilian?” Kara fought for patience. Cops who allowed themselves to lose their cool were cops who lost control. Which was never a good thing. “About a possible crime my department hasn’t gone public with yet?”
    “I called someone with contacts to just about everyone—at all levels—in law enforcement,” he corrected mildly, seeming to ignore her uncharacteristic flash of temper. “Who also can get her hands on way more resources than Shelter Bay’s sheriff’s department could ever dream of having.”
    She sensed that work had stopped while everyone began watching them with interest, but kept her gaze on his. “And she would be willing to help me why?”
    “Because she likes puzzles, which this is. Also, she likes me.”
    Was there a female on the planet who wouldn’t? Years ago Sax Douchett had been a walking, talking testosterone temptation. The years since had only upped his babe-magnet quotient.
    Not that she was personally interested.
    But that hadn’t kept her from noticing.
    “And,” he continued, “as it happens, I’m interested in you. Which makes her interested in your possible crime treasure hunt.”
    There was the angle she’d been expecting. Kara folded her arms. “That’s emotional blackmail. Using my need to solve a crime as a way to get closer to me.”
    “It’s being a good citizen,” he countered in that frustratingly reasonable male tone that triggered a headache. “The way I see it, assisting our local police force is along the same lines as not littering and pickin’ up after Velcro when I take her onto the beach. A civic responsibility.
    “As for your implying I have an ulterior motive, for the record, Sheriff, I’ve never had to use coercion to get a woman into bed. And I’m sure as hell not going to begin with you.”
    “We’re not going there,” she insisted, wondering which of them she was trying to convince. Sax? Or herself?
    She rubbed her throbbing temple as she looked down at the box. Thought about some family out there waiting for a lost loved one. Some family who deserved the right to a proper burial. As this man’s brother had helped her do for Jared.
    “Call your friend,” she said. It wasn’t her only choice. But it was the right one. When her tone sounded too sharp and brisk even to her own ears, as if she were channeling her mother, she added more contritely, “And thanks, Douchett. I really do appreciate it.”
    He shrugged. “No problem.”
    Was it only yesterday that she’d been finding life boring? Kara asked herself as she walked back to her cruiser.
    Which just went to show how much could change in twenty-four hours.

9
    The light was fading from a sky crisscrossed with birds when Sax finally pulled up in front of his parents’ house, parking in the drive between a stand of fir trees and his brother’s new vehicle.
    As yet more proof Cole had succumbed to estrogen poisoning from all the girlie wedding preparations, he’d traded in his fire-engine red dually diesel pickup truck. And the Escape wasn’t just green in color; it was a tree hugger’s dream hybrid. Not that Sax had anything against saving the planet, but this shiny new SUV was just screaming for a couple of booster seats.
    Sax liked kids. Which was why he’d suggested Kara bring her son over to play around with Velcro. But the idea of his big, tough jarhead bro becoming all domesticated was more than a little scary. Because if Cole could fall, what hope was there for the rest of the single guys out there?
    At least it was a Ford. Shelter Bay, like many small towns, tended to be traditional. Which meant that if you didn’t want to be ragged until doomsday and beyond, you’d best be buying American. Especially when it came to cars.
    Sax’s own vehicle was the same ’97 anniversary Camaro he’d had in high school. White, with hugger orange SS hood stripes, it had been a Mustang killer in local (and illegal) drag races. His dad had kept it in