Home to Sparrow Lake

She ignored it and got herself down, planting both stockinged feet in the alley. She started to put on her shoes, then stopped and straightened. She was a few inches shorter than he, but if she was wearing those stilts, she could meet him eye-to-eye.

“You’re not going to put those on?”

“After planting my feet in muck?”

Her way of saying “are you crazy?” Her voice went up so high that it, along with the alarm, scraped down his spine.

“C’mon.” He took her arm and led her to the edge of the alley where he’d left the patrol car.

“You’re not even going to ask me to explain first?”

“Explain all you want at the station.”

“But Margaret Becker is my aunt!”

“That remains to be seen.”

He really should handcuff her, but she looked close to tears, and he thought things might not be exactly as they’d first seemed. He’d never seen her around town before, but if Margaret truly was her aunt...

The raucous alarm was driving him crazy.

Nope. This wasn’t the place to have any kind of conversation. And he did want to talk to her. A woman wearing designer everything breaking into the back of a store was the most intriguing thing that had happened around here in the two years since he’d moved to Wisconsin from Chicago.

Opening the rear door of the squad, he said, “Get in and watch your head.”

CHAPTER TWO

KRISTEN HAD EXPECTED a small-town police station would be deserted at night. She was surprised to see a couple of uniformed officers talking to the woman at the desk. Their conversation ended immediately and the woman said, “I called Mrs. Becker, Chief. She said she would get over to the store and shut off the alarm right away.”

“Thanks, Janet.”

Kristen tightened her jaw. “My aunt has been sick. You shouldn’t be bothering her, Chief.”

“Not here.”

She felt the gazes of the two officers follow her and the cretin as he led her toward the rear of the station. He escorted her into an office. The brass plate on his desk read Police Chief Alex Novak.

“Sit,” he said. “Please.”

Too exhausted to protest, Kristen dropped into a chair.

How had her life gone so wrong?

She’d lost her job, her savings, her home.

And now this new humiliation.

“If you’re going to arrest me, just get it over with.” At least that way, he would throw her in a cell with a cot and she could get some sleep. Undoubtedly he would take unflattering photos of her and then fingerprint her.

“First things first,” he said. “How about you give me that explanation now.”

Great. She could have cleared this up at the store if only he would have listened. “As I said, Margaret Becker is my aunt. I’m working at Sew Fine now—”

“I’ve never seen you around town.”

“Because I just moved here from Chicago a few days ago.”

“Chicago, huh?” His thick eyebrows shot up. “Do you have some kind of identification?”

She glared at him. “I do, actually. In my purse! Which I accidentally locked in the blasted store!”

“No need to shout...what did you say your name was?”

“Kristen Lange.”

“Lange.” His expression shifted slightly. “Hmm.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have the same name as Aunt Margaret. She’s been married a few times.” Three times, actually. Divorced twice, and then widowed three years ago.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you were related to Brian Lange.”

“He’s my kid brother.” The police chief knew Brian? Why? Brian had only returned to Sparrow Lake from California a month before she’d come home. “And Heather Clarke is my younger sister.”

Heather was the only sibling who had lived in Sparrow Lake all her life. Kristen had left for school at eighteen and had gone on to a job in Chicago. She’d come back to Sparrow Lake for visits, of course, but she’d never intended to live here again. She’d had big plans for her future and had never wanted to feel like the failure she obviously was.

“Funny,” the police chief said. “You don’t look like Heather or Brian.”

“They resemble Mom. I’ve been told I look like our father.”

His gaze narrowed as he gave her face an intent once-over. “I don’t remember another Lange.”

“Because he hasn’t lived here for more than a decade.”

She wasn’t about to explain that their irresponsible father had walked out on his family, leaving his wife to fend for herself and three children. Two years ago, Mom had remarried and her husband’s new job had prompted a move to California for them and Brian, who’d been in high school.

“So you’re living with Margaret.”

“Temporarily.”

“Working for her.”

“Temporarily.”

“Not married?”

Resenting being grilled, Kristen frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His eyebrows flicked and he seemed to be smothering a smile.