Free She Can Tell by Melinda Leigh

impenetrable with early evening shadows. “We should get back to the house.”
    And lock the door.
    Rachel’s foot slipped on a patch of wet grass. Mrs. Holloway righted her with a hand on her forearm. In her other hand, she still held the crowbar. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine.” Rachel pasted a smile on her face. But from her neighbor’s suspicious frown, Rachel doubted she was fooling Mrs. Holloway any more than she was kidding herself. Sweat was pooling at her lower back, and her heart was hammering like it’d been cast as a lead in
Stomp
. She had no idea who was behind today’s prank. Troy she could predict to a certain extent, but this…
    How could she rate a danger she couldn’t identify?
    Mrs. Holloway tugged on Rachel’s arm. “Don’t touch anything. He may have left fingerprints or DNA evidence.”
    Her sweet neighbor was a rabid crime show fan. The bloodier the better. Rachel followed obediently as she was led toward the house.
    “And we’ll call Michael,” Mrs. Holloway said.
    “Michael?”
    “The chief of police.”
    Oh. Right.
Him
. Rachel’s pulse did a quick rat-a-tat-tat. Cripes. She needed to get a grip.
    “That’s not necessary. I’ll just call the station,” Rachel protested. The chief of police already had way too much interest in her. The last thing she needed right now was the laser focus of his blue eyes slicing through her I-can-handle-it charade.
    “Nonsense. I have his cell number. I’ve known him since he was in my fourth grade class. I’m positive he’ll want to handle this personally.” Mrs. Holloway guided Rachel across the grass to the back stoop. The grip of her crooked fingerswas surprisingly strong. “You should write the details down before you forget anything.”
    Rachel suppressed a shudder. No matter how hard she tried, there were some things she would never forget.

Chapter Six

    Steeling himself for the inevitable third degree, Mike pulled up to Sean’s house, a modern cedar-sided two-story built on five acres of wooded mountainside. A bright gold and red collage of turning foliage framed the structure. Quinn’s minivan was parked out front. Not in the mood for the doctor’s scrutiny, Mike bypassed the front door. The faint whir of discreet security cameras shadowed him as he followed the smell of grilling meat around to the back deck.
    “There you are.” Sean lifted the lid on a cooler and pulled out a dripping bottle. “Beer?”
    “No thanks.”
    Twisting the cap off his beer, Sean gave Mike the fish eye. “Don’t tell me you’re still working.”
    “I’m not.” Not officially anyway. He helped himself to an iced tea from a glass pitcher on the table.
    “Bullshit. You’re dressed in police chief casual.” His friend frowned as he lifted the lid of his enormous grill to baste three racks of ribs. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”
    The smoky scent of meat and barbecue sauce wafted across the deck. Mike’s stomach growled. “I have no idea.”
    “You look like you’ve been mostly dead all day. You’d better take some time off soon, or I’m siccing Quinn on you.” Sean emphasized his point with giant tongs.
    “My ears are ringing over here.” Quinn stepped through the slider onto the deck. The door closed, muffling the sounds of kids and commotion inside. He handed his brother a plate of raw hamburgers and headed for the cooler.
    Both brothers were tall and blond, but Quinn was merely runner fit, while Sean looked like he could still fastrope off a helicopter with a hundred pounds of gear on his back.
    “Just commenting on Mike’s overall crappy appearance.” Sean moved food around on the grill.
    Twisting the cap off a Bud Light, Quinn gave Mike the once-over. “You do look like shit.”
    “Gee, thanks.” Mike grabbed a pretzel.
    “I mean it. You are dead-fish pasty. I know I’m usually ragging on you to ease up on the weightlifting, but not today. You’ve lost weight. On the bright side, it’s