Honor Bound

“Uh-huh.”

Ben took plastic evidence bags and latex gloves from his pocket—tools of the trade that he still carried from force of habit. He didn’t know if the techs could lift a fingerprint from a leaf, but he was willing to give it a try.

“You can’t be serious,” Kelly exclaimed.

The glove snapped against Ben’s wrist. “I’m always serious about police work.”

“This isn’t police work. It’s absurd.”

“Hey, you’re the one who was bothered enough to call Henry.”

KELLY SCOWLED.

She couldn’t believe Ben was collecting a stupid leaf as if it was evidence and taking pictures of sand on her driveway.

“Yes, and when Henry wasn’t home, I’m the one who decided the whole thing was silly and didn’t pursue it further. And I was right—it’s nothing.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because nobody broke into the house or stole my car,” she said matter-of-factly. “See? Nothing.”

“Maybe, but Sand Point has one or more killers on the loose.”

“Sand Point had one or more killers, who’ve probably already left on a cargo ship. We have an unending supply of transient seamen with our deepwater port. At any rate, I’m not the one who’s overreacting now.”

Ben ignored her, dropping the leaf in his plastic envelope and scooping some soil into another. He smelled the contents. “Did you dump some flavored coffee here? At the end of day, when you got out of the car?”

She threw up her hands. “Would it matter if I said yes?”

“I wouldn’t send it to the lab, for one thing. Those tests cost money.”

“The answer is no, but you don’t need to send anything to the lab.” The mayor was already fuming about the cost of the murder investigation; the last thing she needed was the city paying for unnecessary tests.

“It doesn’t hurt to check things out. I’d like to know why someone was hanging around here.”

“If anyone was hanging around, it was most likely totally innocent.”

Ben rocked back on his heels, cool and professional, his expression as unreadable as if he’d been wearing mirrored sunglasses. “Last night Aunt Gina suggested I come over when Henry wasn’t available. Why didn’t you agree?”

“I changed my mind. There wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“Why didn’t you call me in the first place?”

Kelly blew out a frustrated breath. “I just didn’t, that’s why.”

“That isn’t an explanation.”

“Okay, it didn’t occur to me.”

“I’m the police chief. You see me at City Hall and receive my status reports every morning and evening. I’m Henry’s nephew, and the two of us used to date. Why didn’t it ‘occur’ to you that I might be someone to contact when you’re having a problem? I should have been at the top of the list.”

“Because the one time I did call you for something, you were too busy,” she said coolly.

He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“It isn’t important any longer.” Kelly shrugged. “I’m not sure it ever was.”

She climbed back into the Jeep, more annoyed than she was justified. It was because of those cracks he’d made about fake pelicans in the yard and the other stuff her mother had loved. How dare he? Nobody, including Shanna, would have claimed she was perfect. But she’d done her best, and that was a far cry from what Ben had ever done.

Kelly learned from her mistakes.

She had loved Ben, and then he hadn’t come when her mother died. He hadn’t even cared. It was the sort of lesson that stuck. She’d just returned from the mortuary and the florist, making decisions about a casket and burial plot, and flowers and feeling desperately alone. The house was deathly quiet. She’d broken down and called Ben, but he’d blown her off as fast as possible.

She didn’t know what kind of man Ben was now, but it didn’t matter. He had no right to criticize Shanna or make snide comments about someone who couldn’t defend herself.

Ben opened the door and flipped his thumb in command. “We need to talk.”

“We can talk at City Hall.”

“No, here.” He stood with his legs apart, a looming figure of authority until Kelly slid from the Jeep again.

“What is so vital it can’t wait?” Honestly, if he had the nerve to say anything more about her mother, she’d scream. Let him explain that to the neighbors when they came running.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re the author of the Deep mystery-novels?”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “How do you know?”

“Give me some credit. I remember from when we dated that you wanted to be a writer. Then there’s the way you acted when I questioned you about the books. Not to mention the steno pad I borrowed from your desk yesterday…with an outline of the next two books in the series.”

Now he knew and it was a relief. At least she wouldn’t have to screw up her courage, looking for the right moment to tell him.

“Fine, I’m the author. What difference does it make?”

“To start, why keep it a secret?”

“I like my privacy. Is that so bad?”

“That depends on what you’re hiding.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“I’M NOT HIDING ANYTHING,” Kelly said hotly.

“Except your identity.”

“There’s a difference between wanting my privacy and having something to hide. You don’t know what it was like when I was growing up…how…” She stopped, her cheeks pale.

“How what?”