“I can take care of myself.”

Kelly met his gaze. “Your uncle taught me self-defense when I was a kid.”

That hadn’t occurred to Ben. On the other hand, it wouldn’t save her from a bullet.

“Show me.”

Kelly stood reluctantly. “I don’t think this is the best idea.”

He grabbed her arm.

The next thing he knew, she’d kneed him in the groin and her hand was flying toward his nose. Ben jerked backward and caught her wrist.

He stared into her determined blue eyes and wondered how many people underestimated Kelly…and if he was one of them.

He broke eye contact, glancing down at her body. Her breasts stood out against her sweater, and the way he held her arms accentuated each curve. The discomfort in his groin turned into a different kind of ache.

Damn.

Dear Reader,

I know a couple who met in high school and have been happily married for thirty-five years. They have three great kids and two beautiful grandchildren. While my friends have grown and changed over the years, they’ve also promised to grow and change together, instead of separately. Imagine being a romantic inspiration to your own family, and you’ll have a good idea of this marriage.

I also know couples who went their separate ways because they were wrong for each other, or because they weren’t ready to make a real commitment. I’ve often wondered what would happen if they met again after the years had changed them. Would they fall in love a second time and be able to make things work out? And how would they make things work? That’s the story I wanted to tell in Honor Bound, though sometimes my characters were reluctant to admit what their hearts were telling them.

Because I love both romance and puzzles, I challenged myself to set Ben and Kelly’s reunion against the backdrop of a mystery. They’ve each experienced some of the worst life has to offer, but maybe they can rediscover the magic that brought them together in the first place.

I hope you enjoy reading about Ben and Kelly as much as I enjoyed telling their story. May you find the magic that’s right for you!

Sincerely,

Julianna Morris

P.S. I enjoy hearing from readers! Please contact me

c/o Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road,

Don Mills, ON, M3B 3K9, Canada.

Honor Bound
Julianna Morris

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Julianna Morris has an offbeat sense of humor that frequently gets her in trouble. She has also been accused of being interested in everything. Her interests range from oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, painting, walking on the beach and reading (mysteries and most other fiction and nonfiction).

Julianna loves cats of all shapes and sizes. Her family’s feline companion is named Merlin, and like his namesake, Merlin is an alchemist—he can transform the house into a disaster in nothing flat. And since he shares the premises with a writer, it’s interesting to note that he is particularly fond of knocking books onto the floor.

For Mom.

You’re always in my heart.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

PROLOGUE

Sand Point, Oregon

“LISTEN TO ME, BABY. You gotta quit that job,” Shanna James said, snapping her gum as she navigated the curves of the coastal road. “It’s crappy pay, anyhow. You’ll do better once you get some of that college learning.”

Kelly sighed and stared ahead. “I want to help with the expenses.” That was part of the reason; the other part was that she needed the distraction to keep her mind off Ben and wondering what she’d done wrong.

“I’m making good money. I can handle things.” Her mother took one hand from the wheel and fluffed her hair. Still in her mid-thirties, Shanna was an attractive woman, though Kelly thought she’d be prettier if she wore less makeup. “You know, I’m sure Nate is the one. We’ll probably get married real soon.”

“That’s…nice.” Kelly didn’t say anything else. Her mom was always sure her latest boyfriend was “the one” and that they would get married “real soon.”

But it never lasted.

Shanna’s first broken heart had come courtesy of Kelly’s father. He’d gotten her pregnant at eighteen—the same age Kelly was now—before disappearing from the picture. Kelly didn’t even know his name, though she’d sometimes seen her mother crying over an old high-school yearbook. Shanna claimed they were supposed to get married after he finished his Marine basic training, but she never heard from him again.

Kelly had been so sure it would be different with her, that her first love was real and true and would last forever. But now it seemed the only difference was that she hadn’t ended up pregnant.

“You do good at your classes and don’t worry about working right now. Take that computer stuff,” Shanna continued. “Hell, I don’t frigging care, as long as it ain’t schleppin’ drinks. You got the ass for it, sweetie, but I don’t want you working at a roadhouse the rest of your life. It’s fine for me,” she added quickly, “but not for my baby.”

“Mom, you don’t need to worry, I’m not going to—”

The tires suddenly squealed as Shanna slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid a deer running across the road. Time seemed to slow as the car spun out of control, flipping as it plowed into the guardrail.

Kelly screamed—she thought it was Ben’s name but it could have been just an echo of the tears she’d shed for him over the past few months. She heard her mom scream, too. Then all at once there was silence.

“Momma?” Kelly whispered.

The car was upright again, but it lay at an extreme angle on the steep slope. An overwhelming scent of crushed evergreen filled the air and she gagged.

“Momma?”

Shanna didn’t say anything and Kelly tried to reach out, but her arms wouldn’t stretch that far.

Oh, God.

She tried to squirm free of the seat belt and debris holding her in place. Pain shot through her shoulder and chest, making her head swim. She struggled again and realized her legs were trapped beneath the dashboard.

“Momma, are you okay? Please say something, Momma.”

She was still pleading when a fire engine came shrieking up the road. Other sirens sounded in the distance, and then voices could be heard through the trees and over the crash of ocean waves thundering at the bottom of the hill. The voices shouted back and forth, but the words were indistinct.

“Help is coming, Momma. We’re going to be all right, you’ll see. Oh, please say something.”

“Is someone in there?” She heard a man’s voice call out. A minute later his face appeared through the driver’s window.

“We’re here,” Kelly gasped.

“Take it easy. We’ll get you out.”

“My mother…get my mother first. She’s not saying anything.”

The fireman pressed his fingers against Shanna’s neck. His face went still and Kelly knew he hadn’t found a pulse.

She couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“Er…yes…we’ll get her out, too.” He disappeared and a few moments later had forced Kelly’s door open. “Hey, there. My name is Mitch Lawson. What’s yours?”

Mitch seemed kind, but he wasn’t Ben, and it was Ben she needed. “Miss?” he prompted gently.

“It’s…Kelly,” she said, tears streaming silently from her eyes.

“You’re going to be okay, Kelly. I promise.”

She wanted to believe him, but Ben had left and her mother was dead.

How could she ever be okay again?

CHAPTER ONE

Sand Point, fifteen years later…

BEN SANTONI SCOWLED AT THE television van parked outside the police station. The local media had arrived early for an afternoon press conference, the recent murders being the most excitement Sand Point had seen in years. Of course, the threatening letters sent to Mayor Stone were partly to blame.

Ben’s frown deepened.

Somebody had leaked information about the death threats to the newspaper. If the Gazette reporter suggested “conspiracy” one more time…

“Hon, your fierce stare might put the fear of God in little ole criminals, but those two reporters out there don’t care,” said Vivian Cox, her voice like a rusty saw as she walked into his office.

Ben relaxed. “Which movie hero sidekick are you channeling today?”

“Hey, I’m an original, babycakes.”

That was an understatement—Vivian was five-foot-nothing, her face wrinkled beneath thick makeup, and her hair dyed a brilliant red. According to longtime residents of Sand Point, she’d worked at the mayor’s office since she was eighteen, way back when her hair was naturally that color. Mayors came and went, but Viv stayed. After just a month on duty as the town’s police chief, Ben had already learned it was wise to stay on her good side.

“What’s up, Viv?”

“Hizonor wants to know if you’ve found the author of those, and I quote, ‘smutty mystery novels.’”

“You mean the mayor actually bothered to read them?” Another voice queried wryly, this one low and very feminine.

Ben’s nerves tightened. It was the town’s public affairs officer. Kelly James was the only person in City Hall who didn’t want to talk to the media, and it was her job.

“Hasn’t read them, doesn’t intend to,” Vivian said. “Mostly he’s upset that the library is carrying so many copies. Thinks it’s a waste of taxpayer money and will ‘rot our young people’s minds.’ You know how he is on this stuff.”

“That’s nonsense. Besides, they were donated by the publisher, not purchased,” Kelly protested. “The book-buying budget has been nonexistent the past couple of years.”

“He still thinks—”

“Is there a reason you’re having this discussion in my office?” Ben asked. Loudly.

“You wouldn’t expect us to have it in the squad room, would you, Police Chief Santoni?” Kelly didn’t add “Mr. Big Shot Special Detective,” but he knew that’s what she meant.

He closed his eyes for a long second. When he’d accepted the position in Sand Point, Oregon, he’d never expected to find Kelly James working for City Hall.

That is, Kelly James Lawson.

He kept forgetting the “Lawson” part, having known her as the skinny, thoroughly annoying, kid next door when he’d visited his aunt and uncle in Sand Point. Well, except when they were eighteen and ceased hostilities long enough for each of them to discover how the other tasted. By then she’d become a leggy blond armful…who’d gotten engaged to another man just months after their summer of hot-and-heavy dating.

Hell, he shouldn’t have gotten his teenage ego in a twist over the whole thing—it wasn’t as if he’d asked her to wait for him. Why wouldn’t she take the easy route and get married after her mother was gone? People were mostly out for themselves; the trick was guessing how far they would go to get what they wanted.

When Ben opened his eyes he saw Kelly and Viv watching him, so he plastered a noncommittal expression on his face. It was just his luck that Sand Point’s police station was in the same building complex as the mayor’s office, otherwise he wouldn’t have so many visitors.

“Kelly, our beloved mayor thinks those books are smutty because folks are so eager to read them, and because of the provocative shadows on the dust jackets,” Vivian said. “They couldn’t possibly be popular because they’re exciting and well written.”

Kelly sat on the corner of the desk with her back to Ben. “How can shadows be provocative?”

Viv winked. “A man and a woman? They’ve got to be about sex. That’s how Hizonor sees it.”

Feeling ignored, which undoubtedly was Kelly’s intention, Ben lifted his copy of Deep Water and examined the cover. Those weren’t shadows; they were human figures blurred by blue water. The art was suggestive, but not in bad taste. The cover of the second novel, Deep Sea, was slightly more explicit than the first, but after what he’d seen as a Los Angeles street cop and homicide detective, it was pretty tame.

“You’d think the mayor would be more worried about the murders and getting hate mail than some books,” Ben interjected.

“He’s worried,” Vivian admitted grudgingly. “Just covering it up. This is an election year. He wants to project the image of a strong moral leader.”

“Speaking of which,” Kelly said, “I think you should run for office, Viv. A lot of people would vote for you. I even heard someone discussing it at lunch the other day.”

Viv looked appalled. “I’m not an idiot. I like being a public servant—full benefits and I don’t have to reapply every four years.”

Ben hid a grin.

Viv was smart, the mayor self-righteous and Kelly the curvaceous pain-in-the-ass widow of a local hero. God, he’d heard enough about Mitchell Lawson’s heroism to last a lifetime. There was even a plaque honoring the man in front of City Hall, lauding him to the skies. Lawson may have been a nice enough guy and a brave fireman who died in the line of duty, but nobody was that pure of heart and mind. Ben tossed Deep Water onto a nearby shelf. Tonight he’d have to read more than the first chapter and flyleaf. The death threats against Mayor Stone had referenced the books—something the Sand Point Gazette had focused on the past few days. The paper was trying to connect the dots between the real murders and the fictional ones since the elusive, bestselling author claimed to be from the local area and there were some similarities to the crimes. Ben just wished that they’d stop making people paranoid by talking about it.

Unfortunately—he checked the scene outside his office—the mayor wasn’t the only one who couldn’t resist the lure of temporary fame. Even fame on a small scale. His squad room was filled with employees primping every ten minutes in case they were interviewed and made the nightly news.

The men were the worst.

He had never seen a sorrier group of starched and pressed officers. If the crease on Detective Lasko’s collar got any sharper he’d cut his throat.

“You’re taking the press conference, right?” he asked Kelly. “Press conference” sounded grander than it really was—a few reporters, a photographer and a cameraman—but the mayor loved making it seem important.

She sent a careless glance over her shoulder. “Sorry, I won’t be there. Mayor Stone wants his stalwart new police chief at his side, assuring the public that the guilty party or parties will be caught. Isn’t it lucky you have all of those big-city crime-solving skills?”

Big city?

Sheesh.

Kelly knew he preferred city life. Okay, so he’d been less than tactful about the town a few weeks ago when talking to his uncle, the former Sand Point police chief. How could he have known she was in the kitchen, visiting his aunt? You’d have thought he’d spit on the flag the way she’d blown up at him.

“Give it a rest,” Ben growled.

“Give what a rest? I was simply extolling your credentials as police chief,” she said, ice glinting in her eyes. Making peace was a smart idea under the circumstances, but it would clearly take a while.

“Fine. Whatever. Any special mayoral guidance for handling the press?” he asked.

“As usual, he doesn’t want you to bring up Deep Water or Deep Sea, but if they bring it up the mayor’s response will be ‘no comment,’” Kelly said. “He wants you to be as brief as possible and downplay any resemblance between the books and the dock murders.”

“Why? Because he thinks they’re smutty?”

Kelly shrugged. “He feels connecting the novels and the murders sensationalizes everything even more, which is bad for tourism. Tourist dollars are important to the Sand Point economy.”

“Especially in an election year,” Ben snapped. “Your mayor is being irresponsible. He doesn’t care about solving the murders, just about the publicity. For all I know, he’s the one who leaked the story about receiving death threats so he could get the attention.”

“Phillip Stone is your mayor, too, Police Chief Santoni. You’re either a member of our community, or you aren’t.”

Ben cursed silently.

When would he learn to be quiet?

Uncle Henry had said the same thing, in a different way. It blew Ben’s mind that Henry Jefferson could have gone from being a Europe-based CIA bureau chief to a police chief in a small coastal town in Oregon. Purely by choice, too—Uncle Henry and Aunt Gina had never had kids, so he hadn’t needed to worry about raising a son in the city as a single father, with the unpredictable hours of a homicide detective.

“You and Viv don’t like Mayor Stone any more than I do.”

“We may not have voted for him, but we did vote.”

“I voted.”

“In Los Angeles. How’s your mayor doing down there?”

He sighed. “I have a better question—how long will it be before I’m accepted in Sand Point? I have a job to do, and I want to do it well. Despite what you heard me saying, I’m willing to give the place a chance.”

Kelly put her hands on the desk and leaned forward, and Ben was reminded that her eyes had always done something to him. Big, blue, wistful…they’d confused the hell out of his younger self. Now they made him wary. What was going on behind the surface?

“You’ll be accepted when you decide to be,” she said softly. “That won’t happen until you realize Sand Point is more than a good environment to raise Toby, and that people are usually better than their selfish side. Some are genuine heroes.”

“Like your husband?” Ben winced as soon as the words left his mouth. He might believe she’d married Mitch Lawson for the financial security he offered, but she appeared devoted to his memory.

Kelly straightened, her lips in a taut line. “Mitch was a wonderful man. Finer than you’ll ever know.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me. But what’s wrong with leaving the city for the sake of my son?”

“Nothing. Only how is Toby going to adjust if you don’t like it here?”

Ben took his time before answering. He hadn’t told anyone that his ex-wife had hooked a wealthy husband with no interest in a ready-made family. Now Dawn didn’t want anything to do with her own child in case it jeopardized her cushy new life. Moving to Oregon would protect Toby from that knowledge for a while. As for adjusting, Toby was doing great with Gina and Henry doting on him. He had a few separation issues to work through, but it wasn’t serious.

“My son is none of your business, and I’ve got two homicides to solve,” he said finally. “Not to mention I’m doing your job by taking that press conference.”

“That isn’t how the mayor sees things.”

“Probably because you talked him into seeing it that way.”

Kelly’s level gaze didn’t change. “Or maybe he agrees that Sand Point needs to see you and be assured their new police chief can keep them safe.” Without another word she walked from the office. Viv hesitated, looking both curious and puzzled, then left, as well.

Ben’s gut churned.

Kelly was right. He’d done a few interviews with the press when he was a detective, though he’d avoided them whenever possible. Now people were scared and needed reassurance. Like it or not, that was his job as the police chief. At least this way he could deal with their questions about his qualifications directly, rather than letting the mayor do it. Mayor Stone sounded supportive, but there was something in the way he answered those inquiries that bothered Ben.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he focused on the latest status report from his detectives. He needed answers about the homicides. They didn’t make sense. Two murders within days of each other, in a place as quiet as Sand Point? He’d moved here because it was free of gang problems and had a low crime rate.

Then something else occurred to Ben, temporarily pushing aside more pressing concerns. Kelly had talked about Toby as if she knew him, but he hadn’t brought his son to the station yet. Maybe she’d met him at Uncle Henry’s….

All at once he let out a resigned laugh.

His aunt and uncle had been taking Toby to church, and Toby was crazy about his Sunday school teacher— Miss Kelly. Ben had assumed Kelly was a last name, but he’d bet serious money that “Miss Kelly” was Kelly Lawson.

KELLY FUMED AS SHE HEADED back to her office. To think she’d promised Gina to try being more open-minded when it came to her nephew. But Ben’s sardonic tone whenever he mentioned her husband was too much. He always thought the worst of people. She shouldn’t let it get to her, but it seemed so unfair that Ben Santoni was alive when Mitch wasn’t.

She plopped down on her chair and regrouped.

Nobody knew better than she did that life wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t that she wished Ben dead. She just wished things had turned out better for everyone.

Kelly swallowed, trying to ease the hollow sensation in her stomach. She’d been a widow for three years. It added up to a lot of lonely days and nights…and a lot of tears. Things were different when Mitch had been there, loving her, having faith in their life together. But doubts crept in when she was alone and the nights got long. She couldn’t help thinking about her mother, a hard-living, unmarried cocktail waitress with poor taste in clothing and worse taste in men. There were so many “uncles” growing up that Kelly could never keep them straight.

And yet Shanna’s last thoughts before the accident were about her daughter making a better life. Kelly had clung to that memory when she had nothing else.

“Goodness,” said Viv from the door. “You and the new chief sure don’t like each other. How come? The rumor mill says you used to be an item.”

“A long time ago for about five minutes.” Kelly saw that she’d been doodling on a notepad and shoved it away. “We were kids—it was the blinding influence of hormones overcoming good sense.”

“Yeah, I remember what it was like to be young instead of a cranky, old lady.”

“You aren’t old.”

“I’m old,” Vivian said, sounding far from her usual wisecracking self. “And I got nobody, same as that poor bum who died. Folks are more upset about Harvey’s murder than a homeless guy getting himself killed, but I can’t stop thinking about it. He died alone, and no relations have come forward to claim his body.”

Kelly shivered; she’d been haunted by the same thing. “I guess it’s closer to home with Harvey…a businessman with a family. You can put yourself in his shoes easier than with someone living on the streets.”

“I’ll buy that, but what was Harv doing on that part of the docks at night? Why wasn’t he asleep in bed?”

“I don’t know.” Kelly refused to repeat the talk she’d heard—about payoffs to the union or other unsavory dealings. Harvey’s wife and children were going through enough; they didn’t need wild rumors getting back to them. “I’m sure the police will figure it out.”

“The mayor keeps hinting that it wouldn’t have happened if his brother was still the police chief.” Viv seemed troubled, though she usually didn’t worry what anyone else thought. “And I remember you were awful quiet when the hiring committee discussed Ben Santoni’s application. That seemed odd, since you’re tight with Henry and Gina.”

“What was there to say?” Kelly asked carefully. “Henry thinks the world of Ben, and with the exception of the mayor and his brother, everyone agreed we were fortunate to have a candidate with his experience and credentials. End of story.”

Yet it wasn’t the end, because she still wasn’t sure that Ben was right for the job. The police chief should be a community leader, something he didn’t seem to understand. And she hated how distrustful he was of people—maybe distrust came in handy for a homicide detective, but how could anyone live that way?

“Mrs. Lawson!” Mayor Stone called from down the hall.

Viv stuck out her tongue and pointed her left thumb downward. She’d disliked Phillip Stone since the day he’d suggested it was time for her to retire.

“Yes?” Kelly called back.

“May I speak with you?”

He was in the “Media Center,” a small room with a computer, fax machine, photocopier and assorted other electronics. What it lacked was the internet. The mayor had cut it from the budget, claiming there was too much personal use by employees. Internet had been restored to the police station, though. Ben’s assertion it was an essential element of modern police work had convinced the City Council, so they’d overridden the mayor.

At least Ben knew the tools he needed to be effective. If Mayor Stone had gotten his way, his smarmy brother would have been permanently appointed police chief. While Ben might not be right for the job in some ways, he was better than Frank Stone.

“How can I help you, Mayor?”

He handed her a sheet of paper. “What do you think of it?”

“It” was a poorly designed campaign flyer, with tired catch phrases and little substance. Kelly politely read half, then returned it to him. He was probably nervous after getting into office in a special midterm election.

“I’m flattered you value my opinion, but I can’t comment as a city employee, the town charter prevents me from being involved in elections, the way it bans sitting candidates from using city equipment and supplies to support a campaign.” She glanced at the photocopier, lid up and ready for use.

Phillip’s face became wooden, yet there was a hint of alarm in his brown eyes. The same color as Ben’s, Kelly mused idly, except Ben’s were nearly impossible to read.

“We certainly can’t break the rules.” The mayor thrust the flyer in a pocket and then adjusted his tie and smoothed his silvered black hair. “I have to go. I have a press conference at three.”

He was milking the situation for all it was worth, but he shouldn’t stand too close to his new police chief while doing it. Phillip Stone had a receding chin and sloped shoulders, while Ben was tall, handsome and authoritative. His dark Italian looks had received a great deal of attention from the women in Sand Point.

From her, too, once.

Kelly shook her head. Despite how Ben had hurt her when they were eighteen, she’d let him affect her marriage. Nothing dramatic, but sometimes when Mitch had walked out of the house rather than confront a problem, she’d remember the way Ben had never missed an opportunity to argue, and how exciting that was.

It had happened the day Mitch was killed in the warehouse fire…she’d been upset about some silly thing and he had refused to discuss it with her, instead leaving early to report to the firehouse. Frustrated, she’d thought, Ben wouldn’t have done that.

She’d felt guilty, of course. It was Mitch who’d been there after her mother died. Mitch who’d proven himself. Mitch who’d respected and loved her and would never have hurt her.

Except he did hurt you, her heart whispered.

He’d died, too.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS PAST ELEVEN BEFORE Ben got through the final chapter of Deep Sea.

The book was a good read—fast paced, with a modern, sexy twist on old-fashioned, hard-boiled detective fiction.

The first novel, Deep Water, was nearly as good. He could see why the author was so popular; the guy knew how to put together a tidy suspense story.

As for any similarities to the dock murders, the homeless victims shared physical characteristics, but that could be coincidence. The real homeless victim had slept in a local shelter once in a while, and the rest of the time presumably under a bridge or in deserted buildings on the docks—they still hadn’t determined exactly where. The fictional “homeless” victim was a wealthy man who’d walked away from his former life, paralyzed with guilt over his wife’s suicide. Both spent their days on the waterfront as acute observers of the flow of life about them, but in the book the murderer used an organic poison that mimicked death from natural causes, while Simon had been stabbed.

It was the similarity to Harvey Bryant’s murder that intrigued Ben the most. The real and fictional businessmen were both found dead by an abandoned fish cannery, killed with a double-tap through the heart and a finishing shot behind the ear. Very neat and efficient.

He suspected that whoever fired the real shots was a pro, and damned good at their work. Ben had worried about copycat crimes; now he thought the books might have already been used as a blueprint for murder. One of the details they hadn’t released to the public was that the actual crime scene had been staged; the evidence showed Harvey Bryant had been killed somewhere else and his body moved to the docks.

But why?

Was it connected to the strike against H. Bryant Industries? Labor strikes were never pretty, and this one was particularly ugly. There’d been accusations of unfair labor practices, safety issues and substandard pay and benefits. The strike might have been settled, but the workers and their families felt they’d gotten a raw deal. It could also explain the mayor’s death threats—Phillip Stone was a personal friend of the Bryants, but apparently he’d done little, if anything, to help mediate in either a public or private capacity.

“Poppa?”

Toby stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. Ben threw the blankets back and patted the bed. “Hey, why are you awake?”

“I dunno.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Toby crawled up on the mattress and Ben tucked the covers around him. After a long minute his son looked up. “Um…I miss Mommy.”

Ben dreaded these moments. “I know, pal.”

“Does Mommy miss me?”

“I’m sure she does.” Ben hoped it wasn’t a lie. He hoped there was enough decency in the woman he’d married that she’d regret cutting off contact with her son.

Toby seemed satisfied. He curled into a ball, his breathing slowing into the steady breaths of a sleeping child. Ben ached as he stared at his five-year-old son. Still innocent, still able to be comforted by his father. But innocence got lost early these days, and some parents were too busy to offer comfort.

He didn’t want to be that kind of father, or to have his son grow up too fast. And he never wanted Toby to wonder if he was loved the way he himself had wondered.

With a quiet groan Ben picked up Deep Sea and thumbed through the pages he’d marked as interesting. It was harder than he’d expected to stop being a detective. He’d have to apologize the next time he talked to his former captain. Captain Trujillo had frequently meddled in cases, much to the frustration of his officers. Now the shoe was on the other foot and Ben was fighting the same impulse.

Perhaps he should call Kelly. She knew a lot about the goings-on in Sand Point. She might even have guessed who the author was, and there was no harm in ensuring he was okay. Griffin Bell was obviously a pseudonym, because no one had ever lived in Sand Point, Oregon, by that name. Ben had checked it out himself.

Or maybe he ought to think about it for a while. The chance that Mr. Bell was in any danger was slim. Besides, calling Kelly was not the best idea…mostly because he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

Actually, that was ridiculous.

Kelly disliked him. She wasn’t going to get the wrong idea about anything he did.

KELLY SAT CROSS-LEGGED on her bed, petting her cat as she watched the press conference from earlier in the day. Phillip Stone talked a lot, and Ben Santoni said as little as possible.

He reminded her of an old police show, the one where the detective kept saying, “Just the facts, ma’am.”

That was Ben on camera—just the facts, brief and to the point—except he was a whole lot sexier than that television detective. Kelly grinned reluctantly. She didn’t want to be seen as a love-starved widow, but she did miss sex. Sparks were rare with the men she’d dated since Mitch’s death.

Or it might just be her.

The man she’d dated the longest was Detective Chris Palmer, formerly of the Sand Point Police Department. Chris was a nice guy looking for a permanent relationship, but she couldn’t get past him being a cop. She’d already buried one man because of his work; she didn’t want to bury another.

Life might not be exciting these days, but it was safe. Her heart couldn’t get torn apart again if she didn’t get close to anyone.

Ben said a few more words, and then stepped back. He wasn’t a public relations man, but at least he tried to be reassuring.

“Are you reassured, Frodo?” she asked the feline.

Frodo closed his eyes, his whiskered face thoroughly smug; his world was very much the way he wanted it to be—he had a warm bed, plentiful food, catnip and someone to scratch his neck. Then the phone rang, disturbing his contentment.

“Marrooow,” he squalled as Kelly reached for the receiver, jostling him in the process.

“That’s right, rude. Hello,” she said.

“What’s rude?”

Ordinarily Kelly would have been embarrassed at being overheard talking to her cat, but she didn’t care what Ben Santoni thought of her. “Calling so late. Don’t you know that country folk go to bed as soon as we feed the chickens?”

“I just woke you up and you’re that quick with a comeback?”

“You can never be sure.”

“That’s true. Do you save them for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Santoni. You aren’t worth the effort.” She stroked her offended cat. Frodo responded with a soft purr and rolled over on his back, wrapping his paws around her wrist.

“Don’t hold back, Kelly, tell me what you really think.”

“Oh, I do. I can’t tell you how freeing it is. What do you want, Ben?”

He was silent for a moment.

“Ben? Speak up, we’re getting older by the minute. How did you get my number, anyway? I’m unlisted.”

“The police chief is given the city employees’ home and cell phone numbers in case of emergency.”

“This is an emergency?”

“Near enough. I just read Deep Water and Deep Sea.”

“So?” Kelly wished no one had ever heard of those two books, especially if it meant she had to take calls from Ben Santoni at eleven-thirty at night.

“So, I wanted to know if you have any clue about the author’s identity. Griffin Bell is probably a pseudonym, but it could be an anagram of his name.”

“The bio in the book says Sand Point is his home-town—he might not even live here any longer.”

“And maybe he does. This is a small town, you’ve lived here all your life, you know everybody…. Surely someone has said something.”

“You have screwy notions, you know that? Sand Point has a population of twenty thousand, with lots of stores, churches and space to avoid one another. Nobody knows everyone, with the possible exception of Henry.”

“It’s tiny compared to Los Angeles.”

“I didn’t see you for fifteen years,” she pointed out. “Whenever you came to visit, that is. You were here occasionally, weren’t you?”

She’d deliberately kept to herself whenever Henry and Gina’s nephew was in town, and now she was stuck working in the same group of buildings with him. Maybe it was kismet and they were doomed to butt heads for the rest of their lives.

“I visited a couple of times a year, like when I was a kid, only not for so long,” he said. “I was also here after Henry got hurt. Your pie was delicious, by the way. It was nice that you sent so much food over when he was laid up.”

The mention of Henry’s car accident sent a painful tightness to Kelly’s chest, a reminder of when she’d lost her mother. She’d taken refuge in her kitchen, cooking everything in sight.

“I wasn’t the only one,” she said. “You do things for people you care about.” There was another silence and her brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?” she prompted.

“Uh…I was…nothing. At any rate, I still want to know if you have any idea of who the Deep Sea author might be.”

“Why does it matter?”

“I’m curious.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you paying attention to the mayor now?”

“No.” Ben sounded irritated. “He watches too much television. It’s ludicrous to think a writer would set up a situation in a book, then commit murder so it looks like a copycat crime. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to contact the author and make sure he’s all right.”

Kelly started to pull free of Frodo’s grasp, stopping when the cat flexed his claws, refusing to let go without a tussle. She rotated her shoulders to ease the tension in them. “I’m sure he’s fine. What does Henry say? He’s got nerve endings in every corner of Sand Point.”

“I, uh, I’m going to talk to him tomorrow. Just forget it.” There was a click on the line as he hung up.

Kelly disconnected, but it was harder to turn off the sick sensation in her midsection. “That man is impossible, Frodo.”

Her cat blinked and then rolled onto his side and licked his paw, bored with the conversation because it wasn’t about him.

She settled against a stack of pillows and listened to the roar of the ocean waves, crashing on the cliff outside her window.

Usually it soothed her.

Tonight was different.

Ever since the murders she hadn’t felt as secure in her oceanfront home. She had neighbors on either side, but the house was more secluded than in the central part of town. It was one of the things she’d liked about the place, though Henry had insisted on installing his preferred brand of locks and other security on the doors and windows as a housewarming gift.

She could go and stay with them—they’d welcome her, but she hadn’t taken their help when her mother died, and she wouldn’t begin now.

BEN SLAMMED THE PHONE DOWN.

He’d never had high blood pressure, but he was certain that it had leaped twenty points. It probably did whenever he talked to Kelly. He strode into the kitchen and turned the switch on the coffeemaker. A copy of the investigative file was in his briefcase, begging for attention.

An hour later Ben had read the file twice and was livid. He hadn’t been happy with the detective’s briefings on the investigation and it was no wonder; they’d done a half-assed job. He was making notes when there was a knock on the kitchen slider.

“Oh…hey, Henry. Come on in,” he said, opening the door. Cool night air flowed in, filled with the piney ocean scent he’d always associated with Sand Point.

His aunt and uncle had volunteered to lend a hand with Toby whenever he needed it, so he’d rented the other side of their duplex when they told him it was available. Henry and Gina were great neighbors—they respected his privacy and did everything possible to help with Toby.

“Don’t tell me,” Henry said, raising his eyebrows at the papers spread across the table. “You’re taking over the investigation.”

“Not exactly.”

A knowing grin crossed Henry’s face. “Then why do you have the case file?”

“It’s a copy. I’m reviewing the progress we’ve made.”

His uncle smiled wider and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“That’s the real stuff,” Ben warned. “Double strength. Aunt Gina will blame me if you can’t sleep.”

“Caffeine doesn’t keep me awake anymore.” Henry took a long swallow, although the coffee was hot enough to scald. “And your aunt wouldn’t blame you, she loves you too much.”

Ben couldn’t argue the point. His aunt had indulged him as a boy, something he’d never fully appreciated before. It was a miracle how she’d put up with him. His behavior had been relatively okay when the visits were to places like London, Rome and Athens—wherever Henry happened to be assigned at the time—but the later trips to Sand Point were another story.

“God knows why,” he said finally. “I was an antisocial monster when I was a kid.”

Henry gave him a fond look. “You weren’t so bad. And you had issues back then. We understood. My sister and her husband…well, we don’t need to get into that.”

It was the most Henry had ever said about the past, and Ben shifted uncomfortably. Yeah, he’d had issues. His childhood hadn’t been idyllic, proving money didn’t bring happiness. He barely spoke to his parents now, though they’d recently left a few messages, asking if they could visit. He’d put them off, not interested in a family reunion with two people he’d never been close to, even when he was a kid.

“Kelly would have disagreed with you. She thought I was awful.”

“She didn’t think so the whole time.” Henry’s mouth flattened, plainly recalling the evening that Ben and Kelly were caught by a Sand Point cop, engaged in heavy-duty necking.

“It wasn’t a big deal—we were eighteen,” Ben found himself saying, a defensive reflex from the one time his uncle had been truly angry with him.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure why Henry had been so upset. Maybe it was embarrassing for the police chief to have his nephew hauled in by one of his own officers, or maybe it was because Henry and Gina thought of Kelly as a daughter. Kelly’s mother had been renting half of the duplex when Henry and Gina bought it. The arrangement had continued, with Henry and Gina living on one side and Kelly and Shanna on the other, so they’d watched her grow up from age twelve.

Hell, Henry was the reason Kelly worked at City Hall; he’d gotten her the job when her husband died.

With a neutral expression, his uncle sat at the table and put a finger on several sheets of paper, twisting them around. A low whistle came out as he read.

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s a lousy piece of investigating,” Ben said. “When your detectives took positions in Portland after you left, these two were hired by the interim police chief. They’ve got law enforcement training, but limited hours on the job. Very limited.”

“You can’t attract experienced detectives to Sand Point with the starting salaries we offer…or experienced police chiefs. So teach them. What do you think I did with my guys? I had to do it more than once, as a matter of fact. I’d get them trained and sooner or later they’d go looking for bigger and better opportunities.”

Ben opened his mouth, then closed it.

Damn it all, Henry was right.

Instead of grinding his teeth in frustration, Ben should be teaching Lasko and Fairmont to be the detectives he wanted them to be. They needed on-the-job training. A college education and police academy certification were fine, but didn’t translate into true investigative skills.

He’d learned from a tough partner who’d kicked his ass in the right direction if he made a mistake.

Henry waved at the file. “Small towns aren’t the same as cities. That means your job isn’t the same as being a captain or police chief in Los Angeles.”

“So I’m discovering. How the hell did you go from Europe to Sand Point?” Ben asked. “CIA to small-town cop? It’s quite a switch.”

“We moved to Oregon when I got tired of knowing that as soon as one bit of scum got put away, there were ten more ready to take his place. It isn’t that way in Sand Point. My work here made a difference. I liked that difference. I’m an egotist.”

“More like someone who plays daddy to the world.” Ben pressed his fingers to his eyes so hard he saw stars. He’d always wanted to be a cop. It was the one constant from his childhood, and yet there were times that working in law enforcement was more discouraging than sweeping sand in a windstorm, particularly when lawyers got perps released as fast as they were arrested.

Henry put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You’ll get it sorted out. I wouldn’t have recommended you if I hadn’t known you were the best man for the job.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep, son. Tomorrow comes soon enough.” The back door opened and closed and quiet filled the house.

Ben smiled. Henry and Gina should have had kids; they were born parents. They’d certainly done a lot for him. Even when it came to the house… Ben glanced around the cheerful kitchen. It was a real home thanks to Aunt Gina’s extra touches. They would have wanted to do the same for Kelly and her mother when they’d lived here, though he doubted it would have meant much to Shanna.

His clearest memories of Shanna James were of a hard-eyed woman wearing tight, short, low-cut dresses, sitting on the porch in a cloud of tobacco smoke. She’d worked at a bar till 2:00 a.m., gone through men the way she went through cigarettes, and had a foul mouth that rivaled a longshoreman’s.

The only thing he’d had in common with Shanna was a case of mutual dislike. When they first met she’d called him an “f’ing spoiled brat” and told him stay out of her way. Then she’d yelled at Kelly to “get in the goddamn” house.” Kelly probably would have gone hungry and run wild if it hadn’t been for Henry and Gina, but she’d survived her childhood and ended up married to the former mayor’s son.

So she’d done okay for herself.

Yawning, Ben dismissed the thought and pushed back from the table.

Tomorrow he would talk to Lasko and Fairmont. Whether they liked it or not, he was going to kick their collective asses in the right direction. He’d make them decent detectives if it was the last thing he ever did.

THE NEXT MORNING KELLY went into City Hall, her footsteps echoing in the marble corridor. She smiled at the sound. The old part of City Hall was an improbable birthday cake of a building. It was utterly impractical, but most of the employees loved it. Dubbed the “Marble Monster” when first built in 1926, it provided a gaudy focal point for the entire area.

Phillip and Frank Stone were standing near the base of the main staircase and she veered sharply, hoping to escape notice.

“Mrs. Lawson, I need to speak with you.”

Wonderful. Kelly turned around. “Yes, Mayor?”

He waved an envelope in the air. “The Kite and Blackberry Festival committee just asked me to ride in the parade. I’m concerned they didn’t make the request sooner.”

Frank stepped closer. He was shorter and more wiry than his younger brother, but unlike Phillip, he wasn’t going prematurely gray. “Sugar, the mayor should have been the first person invited. You’re on that committee. You should have made sure the right protocol was followed.”

Sugar?

The way he said it made her long for a shower to wash off the slime. “I’m not on the committee, Mr. Stone. I’m the city’s liaison with them. I can’t make them do anything.” She looked at the mayor. “However, I reminded the chairman several times that a formal invitation is customary.”

The mayor puffed out his chest in affront. “You had to remind the chairman? You would think they didn’t want me in their parade.”

“They’re shorthanded with the flu season hitting so early. And since your devotion to civic duty is well-known, they assumed you planned to participate. They naturally felt you would understand under the circumstances.” She hated playing to his ego, but it made things easier in the long run.

“Oh, yes, yes, quite so,” Phillip agreed, appeased. “We’re all part of the same team. And speaking of team-work, my brother has decided to stay in Sand Point for a while instead of tending to his business up north. I feel safer having him here after receiving all those death threats.”

The policeman standing behind them looked disgusted. Kelly sympathized. It was hard to believe anyone was serious about hurting the mayor, and standing guard on him had to be one of the most boring jobs in the world.

“I’m sure Police Chief Santoni…” Her words trailed. She couldn’t bring herself to say Ben would appreciate the help since she was certain that he wouldn’t appreciate a single thing about Frank Stone. Frank was smarter than his brother…and a dead loss in every other way.

“Oh, we aren’t discussing this with Santoni,” Frank said heartily. “He might be threatened by my presence, being new on the job and having trouble with it so quickly. Shame he can’t seem to find those killers.”

“I’m sure it’s only a question of time.”

“Perhaps,” the mayor said. “But carry on. We were just going to breakfast.”

Kelly tried to regain her good humor as she went upstairs.

When she entered her office, Ben was lounging in a chair as if he owned the place. “Hey,” he said.

Tarnation.

The man did not respect personal space. Of course, she had to admit that she’d invaded his office several times, so she shouldn’t complain.

“What?”

“I wanted to apologize for calling so late.”

Kelly grimaced. Whatever game he was playing, she wasn’t going along with it—the Stone brothers had used up her supply of patience for the day. “So apologize.”

He scratched his jaw. “Did I actually wake you up?”

“Are you actually going to apologize?”

Ben grinned lazily. “Probably not. I got to thinking and realized that you kept answering my questions with other questions.”

“Did I?”

“See? There you go again. I asked two questions. No answers, just two more questions.”

Kelly shoved his feet to the floor so she could get to her own chair. The Public Affairs office was barely big enough for a desk and wastebasket. A man as tall as Ben Santoni made it seem that much smaller.

“Maybe I don’t appreciate dumb questions.”

“Wow. You really don’t like me,” he said conversationally. “But it doesn’t make sense. We were friends before I left. In fact, we were getting along great—even if Uncle Henry wouldn’t let us use the truck after we got caught out at the point that last time.”

“You didn’t leave. You ran.”

Ben had hightailed it out of Sand Point a week early, without even saying goodbye. She’d come home from her morning job at a local doughnut shop, bringing him a bag of his favorite apple fritters, only to have Henry say he was gone. Henry had tried to be kind, but there isn’t any kind way to tell a teenage girl that her boyfriend has run out on her.

“You’re still pissed about that after fifteen years?”

Kelly shrugged. “It was over a long time ago.” She turned the memory over in her mind, but it was ancient history. Back then she’d been convinced she would end up the same as her mother. Shanna James fell in love quickly, but it never lasted—something would happen, and that would be that. One broken heart after another. Mr. Right always turning into Mr. Nowhere-To-Be-Found.

Then Shanna died.

And later Mitch.

Those were the losses that still hurt.

“There has to be a reason you don’t like me any longer,” Ben insisted.

She laughed. “Wow. You have the same overinflated ego as ever. You’re forgetting that except for that one summer—which was just about sexual curiosity anyway—we never liked each other. Why start now?”

“Sheesh. And Henry and Gina think you’re so sweet.”

“And I thought you were the sophisticated type. I hate to break it to you, but it’s a myth that girls are made out of sugar.”

“I know all about women.”

Ben’s tone spoke louder than his words. Kelly knew he was raising Toby by himself. Divorce could make people cynical about the opposite sex, and he’d grown up already cynical and angry. Aside from Henry and Gina, he didn’t have faith in anything or anyone, much less basic goodness and decency. She might have been angry, too, if her mother had kept sending her away like his parents.

“You don’t know everything,” she said, more tired than before. “Is there anything new on the case?”

Ben regarded her stonily.

“Because I have to brief the mayor when he comes back from breakfast…unless you’d rather do it.”

“There’s nothing new. I’ll have Lasko follow up with the state crime lab this morning, and then canvass the area again for possible witnesses. Fairmont is going to redo the original interviews they conducted. Somebody must have seen something.”

“I hope so. I didn’t think much of Harvey Bryant’s business practices, but Simon was nice.”

Ben suddenly seemed wide-awake. “You knew the homeless man?”

“I used to walk on the docks every day,” Kelly explained. “I started seeing Simon there a couple of years ago. Off and on at first, and then more often. In the beginning I’d just say ‘hi’ when I saw him. He was polite and well-spoken. He seemed to drink a lot, though he never acted or sounded drunk.”

“You used to walk there?”

“Yes—at lunch or on a break.”

“That’s not what I meant. Why did you stop?”

“Oh. It was Simon. He didn’t think it was safe for me and said I should stay away for a while.”

“For a while? As if something questionable was going on—something that might be over soon?” Ben glared. “Isn’t that something you should have told the police when he got killed? Did you tell anybody?”

She glared back. “No, because it wasn’t related to his murder. Simon said there had been fights between workers and management because of the strike, and he thought I should stay away until it was over. The strike was settled before he died. I just haven’t gone back to walking down there.”

“Okay.” Ben made a visible effort to be calm. “Fine. What else did he say?”

Kelly swept her hair away from her neck. “Nothing much. He spent most of his time drawing. I have a number of his pictures—he was really talented. I would bring him sketchbooks and art pencils every week or so…. I guess I hoped it would make him feel there was someone who cared.”

Ben gave her an odd look. “People usually won’t talk to the homeless. What else?”

She put her purse in a drawer, trying to think. Had there been anything significant in those exchanges? Their discussions seemed so trivial and meaningless now. “I…we chatted about the weather…”

Ben rolled his eyes.

“He drank from a bottle in a brown bag. He seemed kind and intelligent. And sad. I figured he’d once had a family and lost touch with them. He was so lonely.” Kelly sighed. She’d liked Simon and felt guilty that she hadn’t done more to help him find a decent place to live.

“What do you know about his family?” Ben had grabbed a pen and was writing on a steno pad he’d also taken from her desk. “We haven’t tracked down a single connection, anyone to notify—nothing to tell us who he was. My detectives swear he dropped from nowhere.”

“He had a daughter, but I don’t know any details. We discussed little stuff—it’s a nice day…how are you doing…literature and poetry…that sort of thing. He wasn’t interested in rehab or changing his life. He always cut me off if I said something about it. If I’d pushed harder…” She stopped, feeling worse than ever.

“How about friends?” Ben tapped the pad, every inch a police officer questioning a witness. “Did you ever see him with anyone?”

“Occasionally. He claimed to be a loner, but he must have panhandled. I mean, I didn’t give him cash and he didn’t ask for any, so where did the money for his drinking come from?”

Ben frowned thoughtfully. “You’d be surprised at how much income these guys can make collecting cans and other recyclables. I’ll have my detectives check that angle.”

The phone rang and Kelly picked it up, keeping her gaze on Ben. It was Detective Fairmont, asking if the “Chief” was available. She gave Ben the receiver.

“Yes…okay…yes…” Then after a long pause, “I’ll be right down.” Ben returned the phone. He pulled a card from his pocket and scribbled on the back. “That’s my cell number if you think of anything else. Call anytime. It’s important, Kelly. Everyone deserves justice. People care who killed Harvey Bryant, but not so much about a homeless man—as if his life didn’t count and it doesn’t matter who murdered him.”

“I know, and I wish I knew something that would help.”

“You can never tell—the smallest shred of information could be a clue.”

He walked out and Kelly flipped the business card to the desk, staring at it. Yet instead of the white rectangle, she saw Simon. She’d accepted his concern for her safety at face value. It had made sense—tensions were high during the strike, with Harvey Bryant refusing to pay proper benefits and bringing in nonunion replacements. Sand Point had breathed a sigh of relief when labor and management finally came to an agreement.

It was just too bad that Simon hadn’t been more concerned for his own safety, or he might still be alive.

CHAPTER THREE

KELLY LEANED AGAINST HER deck railing and gazed at the horizon where a distant bank of fog obscured the line between sea and sky. Above it a trail of moonlight illuminated the shifting surface of the ocean and the white flash of waves crashing on the rocks.

It was so beautiful.

Moving unceasingly. Always changing. Always the same. Like the pulse of her own blood.

She could never decide if she preferred the view by night or by day. Each was special, but at night the sea was even more mysterious, as if the walls of time had broken down, connecting her in some inexplicable way to the past and future.

A light wind swirled and she rubbed her arms, more nervous than cold. It was stupid. She should have explained about the Deep books when Ben had called the other evening, or when he’d talked to her at the office, but she’d invented the stories from her overactive imagination and she knew they didn’t have any deeper significance.

So what if she was the author?

So what if she had kept it private?

There were many reasons she’d hadn’t told anyone, including it being too much to handle so soon after losing Mitch. She’d hated being treated differently when he died—all the whispers about poor widowed Kelly, and what was she going to do, and how would she manage. The sudden silences when she entered a room were just as bad. To then publish a spicy murder mystery novel…? She’d had enough of whispers and pointing fingers during her childhood as the daughter of “that woman.” Few had seen the caring mother beyond Shanna’s revealing clothing and revolving boyfriends.

Smutty.

That’s how the mayor kept describing the books. Kelly had cringed when Phillip Stone publicly complained about the “suggestive” covers and content after the Gazette released their story, pointing out the similarities to the real murders and victims. As much as she’d loved Shanna, Kelly had fought her whole life not to be compared to her. She could imagine the speculation about her own sexual history if everyone knew she’d written Deep Water and Deep Sea.

She would have to find a way to tell Ben the truth, but he’d never understand her desire for privacy or the way the secret had gotten out of hand. He’d just be mad that she hadn’t told him earlier.

Kelly tightened her grip on the railing. She’d questioned Ben’s suitability for the job, but with the exception of Henry, there wasn’t anyone more qualified in Sand Point to locate Simon’s and Harvey’s killers. That was one thing she couldn’t fault Ben on, wanting to do his job right. He really seemed to care that two men had died so terribly.

Frodo meowed plaintively from the screen door. She turned toward him and a strange sensation went down her back, as if she was being watched. Uneasily, she wondered if her doors were locked—something that people didn’t usually worry about in Sand Point.

Well, not until the murders.

Most likely it was nothing, but she went inside with a shiver. Frodo bumped against her legs, a loud purr rumbling from his chest. To his disgust she stepped over him to go check the doors. The front needed the dead bolt locked, but the one in the utility room was secure. The kitchen lights were off, so Kelly peeked through the curtain.

A tall line of bushes separated her property from the neighbor’s and she waited for several minutes, searching the darkness.

Don’t overreact, she ordered herself.

Good advice.

She was just paranoid because Ben had wanted to make sure “Griffin Bell” was safe. It was ridiculous. Nobody knew she was the author, and who would want to hurt her, anyway?

Frodo butted her shin and cried, upset that he wasn’t getting the attention he craved.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmured, leaning over to pick him up. At twenty-four pounds, he wasn’t an easy armful. The tiger-striped feline purred madly.

Kelly kept her eyes focused on the boundary between the two properties and thought she spotted a shape that was more solid and defined than the bushes. The motion sensor light by the door hadn’t been triggered, yet the sensation of being watched grew stronger.

Still carrying Frodo she went into the living room and picked up the phone. Then hesitated.

Calling 911 didn’t seem appropriate under the circumstances—what could she say, “I have a weird feeling. Please come arrest a shadow”? Mitch’s friends kept offering to help, but they had their own lives and families. Her father-in-law was recovering from open-heart surgery, so calling the Lawsons was out of the question. Henry would come, but she didn’t want to worry him. He and Gina were always fussing about her living alone, saying she should “find” someone, or just plain worrying because they were nice people.

On the other hand, maybe if she asked Henry to drop by for another reason, something innocuous…a request for his opinion, nothing else—not as if she was asking for anything.

Grateful for an excuse, Kelly sank onto the couch, settled Frodo on her lap and dialed.

“Jefferson residence,” said Gina’s cheerful voice.

“Hey, it’s me, Kelly. Is there any chance Henry could come over for a while?”

“I’m sorry, dear, he went to Portland this morning and won’t be back till late. Is something wrong? Ben is here. I’m sure he’d be happy to come.”

“No. Uh, that is, it’s all right,” Kelly said hastily. “I thought Henry might check the railing on the deck, but I’ll get a contractor to inspect it.”

“Nonsense. Henry will drop by tomorrow.”

Kelly groaned to herself. “That isn’t necessary, but why don’t you both come to dinner on Saturday? I can’t remember the last time you were here.”

Actually, they hadn’t been to her place since Ben’s move to Sand Point. She made a face. Could she be jealous about Ben and Toby moving to Oregon? Before now she’d only needed to share Gina and Henry on his brief visits.

“That would be lovely,” Gina said, interrupting the unpalatable thought. “But don’t go on the deck until we’re sure it’s safe.”

“You’re just afraid that if I break my neck, you’ll miss my apple pie,” Kelly teased.

“I do love your cooking. Oh, dear!” Gina exclaimed. “I forgot that Toby and Ben are coming to dinner at our place on Saturday.”

Kelly winced. Gina wouldn’t understand if she didn’t extend an invitation to them, as well. “They’re welcome, too, of course,” she managed to say. Having Toby would be fine; he was already her favorite Sunday school student. But Ben? Maybe he’d make an excuse and send Henry and Gina and Toby without him.

“I’ll let them know,” Gina said happily. “Isn’t it wonderful having them here?”

Yeah, wonderful. Until Ben decided he missed the city and broke his aunt’s and uncle’s hearts by moving back. Did he realize how much he meant to them, or how thrilled they were that he’d made Sand Point his home?

“Yes. I’ll see you Saturday—let’s plan for five o’clock so Toby can have an early night.” Kelly said goodbye and switched off the phone. It was just as well that Henry hadn’t been home. Overreacting could become a habit, and she didn’t want to be scared of every creak and bump around the house. A woman needed to take care of herself.

She scratched Frodo’s neck. He yawned and went back to sleep. Human problems didn’t bother him.

Kelly swung her feet onto the couch. Paranoia aside, her biggest problem was putting up with Ben every day at City Hall.

And now on Saturday evening.

Darn it.

“BEN?”

“Yup?” Ben saw his aunt come into the kitchen. He was on his back under the sink, repairing the leaky drain—Henry was great with anything electrical, and terrible with plumbing.

Unfortunately, Henry didn’t know he was terrible, so Ben was taking care of the leak while his uncle was out of town.

“I just got off the phone with Kelly. She’s asked us all to dinner on Saturday. Will that work for you?”

“That’s…fine.”

Ben made a final adjustment on the drainpipe while he adjusted his expression. There was no way that Kelly had asked him to dinner without encouragement from Gina.

“Apparently there’s a problem with her deck railing,” Gina went on, unaware of his tension. “She wanted Henry to check it for her, but when I said he’d gone to Portland for the day, she asked us all to come on Saturday.”

Ben swallowed an ironic comment. Kelly must have invited his aunt and uncle to dinner, then been forced to invite him and Toby, as well.

“That’ll be nice,” he said, at the same time thinking it was late for Kelly to ask Henry to come over. “How did she sound?”

“A bit edgy when she first called. But she’s dreadfully independent. She never asks for help. I remember after…” Gina’s voice trailed and she looked unhappy. “It doesn’t matter. She’s gotten through it.”

Ben frowned.

Kelly never asked for help?

“I’ll go now if you’ll watch Toby,” he offered. He would give a lot to see Kelly’s face if he showed up at her doorstep unexpectedly.

His aunt shook her head. “You know I’m always delighted to watch Toby, but she seems all right. When I suggested you might be able to come instead, she said it could wait.”

Naturally.

Gina put the kettle on the stove. “How about a cup of tea? I’ll make cocoa for Toby and we’ll have some of the lemon cake you brought from Klinghoffer’s Bakery. Or would you prefer coffee?”

“Tea is good.” Ben tried to shake off a vague concern. He was tense between having two murders to solve and trying to prove himself as police chief.

Yet Ben couldn’t sleep for a second night in a row. His feelings about Kelly were getting confused again, which was the last thing he needed.

The next morning Ben left Toby with Gina and headed to City Hall a few minutes early. He generally got to the station when Kelly was visiting the corner coffee vendor, and since she was regular as clockwork, it was safe to assume he could catch her there.

Ben ordered a plain cup of coffee as he waited. Kelly seemed perfectly fine when she arrived. “Hi, Larry,” she called, barely flicking a glance at Ben.

“Morning, Kelly. One tall mocha ‘Why Bother’ and a blueberry muffin, ready to go.” Larry extended a paper sack and cup.

“Thanks,” she said, giving him the money. Her smile must have dazzled the guy, because he stood stock-still, holding the bills and watching her walk away. Or maybe he just enjoyed the view—Ben couldn’t deny that Kelly was easy on the eyes, whether coming or going.

“Why is it called a ‘Why Bother’?” he asked, following her.

Kelly jumped. “It’s a sugarless, nonfat, decaffeinated latte, that’s why.”

He grunted. “I wouldn’t bother, either.”

“I like it.” She took a defiant swallow. “Unlike some people, I don’t live on caffeine and sugar.”

“Oh? Is that a nonfat, sugarless muffin in your bag?”

A hint of pink brightened her cheeks and he grinned. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to tease Kelly.

“What do you want, Santoni?”

“I want to know if there was something you should talk to me about.”

She stumbled and he caught her elbow. “What do you mean?”

“Last night. Did you really call Henry about the deck, or was it something else?”

“Oh.” It could have been Ben’s imagination, but she seemed relieved. “I was overreacting. There’s no need to get into it.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Overreacting to what?”

“When I was out on the deck it felt as if I was being watched. So I checked from the kitchen window and didn’t see anything. Well…maybe there was a dark shape in the bushes. It made me uncomfortable, that’s all.”

Ben drew her to a halt. “Someone was trespassing on your property and you didn’t call 911?”

“I didn’t say someone was trespassing. And besides, I called Henry. Thankfully he was on a trip to Portland, so nobody got inconvenienced for something so silly.”

“That’s what the police are for. How long was the person there?”

Kelly looked at him, exasperated. “I told you, I don’t know that anyone was there. And even if there was, it could have been someone out for a walk who wanted a look at the ocean.”

“In the dark?”

“There was plenty of light from the moon. The water was beautiful, that’s why I was outside myself.”

“Let’s go.” Ben marched her to the parking lot.

“Hey, where do you think we’re going?” Kelly demanded.

“To your house to investigate.”

“I have to work. The mayor expects his morning report.”

“Tell him to take a hike. This is more important.”

She seemed about to argue further, but got into his Jeep Cherokee and took out her cell phone. “Viv?” she said after a moment. “I’m going to be late, but I’ll try to be there by nine…. No, nothing’s wrong…I’m just delayed because someone is bored and needs something to do.”

Ben snorted.

Hardly bored with someone threatening the mayor and two murders to solve.

“Will do.” Kelly closed the phone and looked at him. “If you insist on doing this, I live on Sea Front Drive.”

“I know.” He cleared his throat and turned north. “Henry pointed it out once when we were driving around town.”

“Oh.”

Ben was glad when she didn’t say anything else. A couple of days ago they’d gotten a report from a Sea Front Drive resident about a suspicious person hanging around. When Henry had heard about it he’d nearly had a stroke, then made sure Ben knew exactly which house was Kelly’s so he could get there quickly.

Ben hadn’t taken the report seriously until now. Murders made everyone nervous, and unsolved murders were ten-times worse. People reacted emotionally, so it was common to get a rash of “suspicious person” reports, whether it was a big city or small town. Ever since the first murder, calls had been coming in from all over Sand Point. So far none of them had seemed credible.

Now he wasn’t so certain. Kelly irritated him, but she didn’t seem the type to be scared of her own shadow. And she had admitted to knowing Simon, however casually.

Then there was the little issue of those damned mystery novels….

Ben grimaced.

He pulled into her driveway, braked and swung from the Jeep. Kelly got out before he could get to her side of the vehicle and act the gentleman that Henry had taught him to be.

“See?” She made a sweeping motion with her arm. “I don’t know what you expect to find. There’s nothing going on.”

It was a cool, crisp day, the sun rising in a cloudless sky. Kelly’s house was an older Cape Cod, with weathered wood-shingle siding. Everything was clean, well maintained and naturally landscaped. Nice, but not what he would have expected. What was the old saying about apples and trees?

He looked at Kelly. “No crazy-eyed, fake pelicans? No pigeon-toed-seagull statuettes crowded on the split-rail fence? What about a bevy of scantily clad mermaids, or some cheerful crabs clutching Welcome To My Home signs in their claws?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why would I have those in my yard?”

“Because your mother liked that kind of junk.” Ben had never seen the interior of the Jameses’ home when they were living there, but there’d been so much overdone statuary, cutesy signs and artificial junk on their side of the yard that it resembled a twisted cartoon nightmare. Thank God Henry and Gina had gotten rid of the hideous stuff ages ago. He’d never understood why they’d allowed the stuff in the first place…or why they’d let a woman like Shanna stay. It must have been out of their concern for Kelly and the way she was being raised.

“You’re a snob.” Kelly slammed the passenger door of the Jeep. “And if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss my mom with you.”

No wonder, Ben thought. Shanna hadn’t exactly been mother of the year material. He’d rarely seen her with Kelly, though that wasn’t surprising since she had frequent male visitors and worked at a bar until all hours.

Ben walked around the Jeep and found sandy shoe-prints on the driveway. He measured the prints and took several pictures with his digital camera before heading to the rear of the house. The deck design didn’t include stairs, and there wasn’t any easy ground-level access since the rear of the property dropped sharply.

“Where did you think you saw something?” he called.

“There.” She motioned to an area back from the deck and in the cover of the bushes.

He crouched near the spot. The grass was crushed and some twigs were broken, and a single, broad leaf lay on the ground near a greasy-looking, circle of dirt.

Ben noted the distance between the houses. There wasn’t so much oceanfront property in Southern California—not with houses that belonged to regular people instead of obscenely rich movie stars or business moguls like his father.

As for the view, while attractive, it didn’t compare to the one from twenty feet closer to the edge of the cliff. What it did offer was a partial view of Kelly’s deck, along with an unobstructed sight line of the windows and doors on the north and front sides of the house. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it was interesting.

“Have you had any workmen here recently?” he asked. “Someone who might have tramped around in this area?”

“No, nothing lately.”

“How about the neighbors—do they ever take a shortcut through the bushes to visit?”

“There’s a wider space closer to our back doors. That’s what we use.”

“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?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You always assumed I was like my mother, the way everyone else did.”

There was enough truth in the accusation that Ben knew it was wiser to keep his mouth shut.

Kelly crossed her arms over her stomach and mulishly set her chin. “Anyway, I didn’t do anything wrong. I was going to tell you sooner or later that I was Griffin Bell. But there shouldn’t have been any rush since you claimed you were concerned the author was all right, not that you wanted to ask about the murder.”

Fair enough, yet Ben was still annoyed. Kelly had been thwarting him since the day he’d started work at the police department.

“Writers like publicity to increase their book sales. Why didn’t you capitalize on the media attention?”

“I would never take advantage of something so tragic for my benefit,” Kelly snapped. “It’s bad enough that people are saying the murders are alike. How could I announce out of the blue that I’d written them? The books are fiction. What happened to Simon and Harvey is real life.”

Fiction?

Maybe.

But the homeless character had appeared in the second book of the series; that novel could have been written after Kelly met Simon.

“How much are your stories inspired by real people?” Ben asked. “Harvey Bryant, for example…or Simon? Were they recreated in your story?”

She made a visible effort to calm down. “Definitely not Harvey. He was lousy to his employees, but I can’t see him being dishonest like the character in Deep Sea. As for Simon, getting to know him did give me ideas. He puzzled me. He was intelligent, articulate, informed about the world…. I didn’t consciously describe him in the book, but I realized later that a lot of the details were the same.”

“So you thought he was more than just a bum.”

“Of course I did. Kids don’t grow up saying, ‘gee, I want to live under a bridge someday.’ He was special, but I’m sure if you got to know any homeless person you’d discover they’re more than what they seem.”

Her defense surprised Ben; she must have cared a great deal about Simon. The man was an enigma. The autopsy had revealed that he was in fair shape for a guy living on the streets, with a relatively healthy liver for a supposed alcoholic. He also had two, old gunshot-scars and an eagle tattoo on his arm. They’d entered his data into the National Crime Information Center’s Unidentified Person System. Now all they could do was wait until they got a break.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” Kelly asked. “I have a job to do.”

“Not right now.”

They returned to City Hall in silence. Kelly hurried away without a word, and his life didn’t improve when he got to his own office. Viv was waiting.

“You have a press conference at noon,” she said, handing him a file. “I wouldn’t have to run down here like this if he’d just give us back the internet in City Hall.”

Damn. He removed a memorandum from the mayor and saw in big, bold letters across the top, “Full Disclosure.” He read further and narrowed his eyes.

In the interest of keeping the public fully informed about the Police Department’s efforts to catch the dock murderers, all details of the investigation are to be released to the media. We cannot appear to be less than candid.

“Excuse me,” Ben said tightly.

He crossed to City Hall and took the stairs two at a time. The day-shift officer assigned to guard the mayor jumped to attention. “Sir?”

“Take a ten-minute break, Officer Mullen.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Mayor Stone looked up as Ben threw open his door without knocking. “Yes, Police Chief Santoni?”

“I just read your memo.”

“Being open and honest is the best policy.”

“That isn’t good police work.”

The mayor put his fingertips together with an air of exaggerated patience. “So far your ‘good police work’ hasn’t resulted in an arrest.”

“Giving up one of our few advantages won’t change that. It’s standard to keep certain details of an investigation confidential. Do you want to be responsible for making our job harder?”

Stone scowled. He might not be brilliant, but he wasn’t a dumb politician. “If you really think it’s important, we’ll do it your way. At least for a while.”

“I appreciate your support,” Ben said, a hint of irony in his voice.

“I’ve always supported the police department. Naturally it was easier when my brother was the police chief. He did such a splendid job for this community, the crime rate was practically zero.”

Right.

The Stone brothers at the helm of Sand Point.

Small-town nepotism at its finest.

Only the crime rate hadn’t been “practically zero” under Frank Stone’s lazy management, it had been increasing. The majority of the infractions were misdemeanors like vandalism and shoplifting, but little had made it into official reports. The issues were simply written in the dispatcher’s log; it was easy to have a clean record when you didn’t keep any records.

“Chief, I’m wondering about your late arrival this morning. If the position is too much for you to handle, I’m sure Frank would be willing to come back,” the mayor added with a thin smile. “He doesn’t have child-care responsibilities or other distractions to take him away from his official duties.”

Ben returned the smile with one that was equally insincere. “I wasn’t late. I was conducting an investigation. Since the detectives the city hired are so inexperienced, it’s necessary for me to supplement their efforts. I’m managing my responsibilities just fine.”

Uneasiness crept into Phillip Stone’s eyes, though it was hard to tell why. “We’ll see. What have you learned about the death threats against me?”

“The lab hasn’t found fingerprints or DNA on the letters, including the latest one.”

“Are the threats credible?”

Ben hesitated. “I doubt it, but crackpots aren’t always this careful. They usually leave evidence behind, that could suggest that this is a professional.”

“I suppose that’s something else you don’t think should be released to the media. People are very upset that their mayor is being targeted.”

Though Ben had yet to detect any genuine public concern for Stone’s health and well-being, he didn’t say so. “That’s understandable.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you at the press conference.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Ben gritted his teeth as he left. Phillip Stone talked about playing things down, but his press conferences were making everyone more nervous. Maybe they were about generating publicity for his upcoming reelection campaign, or maybe they were a way to throw doubt on Ben’s ability. The mayor claimed he had confidence in his new police chief, yet in private he seemed seriously pissed that the City Council had hired an outsider instead of his brother.

Local politics.

To think he’d believed that life in Sand Point would be simpler than in Los Angeles.

THAT DEPENDS ON WHAT you’re hiding.

Ben’s words kept hammering in Kelly’s head. He didn’t really think she was involved in Harvey’s and Simon’s deaths, did he? Mitch hadn’t owned a gun and she’d never even touched one herself. Besides, what would she have to gain? No one would kill two people just to sell a few more books.

Kelly locked herself in her office and took out her cell phone. “Henry?” she said when he answered, her voice higher than normal.

“Kelly, are you all right?”

“Not really.”

The story came spilling out. She didn’t want to get between Ben and his uncle, but she needed someone to listen and she couldn’t let Henry and Gina learn about Griffin Bell’s identity from Ben. At least her husband’s family already knew; she’d insisted on paying her father-in-law’s recent medical bills and they’d asked where she’d gotten the money, thinking she was putting herself into debt for them.

“It’s okay,” Henry soothed at the end of her frantic explanation. “The police have to explore every angle, no matter how ridiculous.”

Kelly recalled Ben’s expression—angry, but not necessarily suspicious. She might have overreacted…perhaps because deep down it hurt that he might even wonder if she was involved. His distrustful nature had been a problem even when they were children. The day they’d met he’d assumed she was trespassing in his uncle’s yard; it hadn’t occurred to him that she had a right to be there. It was the side of Ben that she disliked the most.

Sometimes it was hard to believe the way she’d behaved that last summer, so crazy in love she was ready to break every rule she’d ever made for herself. The way Ben had kissed her, touched her, every breathless, heart-pounding moment of being in love for the first time…the temptation had been nearly irresistible.

God, she wouldn’t go back to being eighteen for the world.

“I would have explained if he’d said he wanted to question the author of the books,” she said slowly.

“I know you would have. And your novels are terrific. Gina and I will be fighting over who gets to be president of the Griffin Bell fan club.”

“Please don’t make a fuss.”

“You deserve a fuss. Kelly, honey, why did you keep it secret?”

She sighed. “I didn’t plan to, but the manuscript for Deep Water sold right after Mitch died. It was so unimportant in comparison to losing him, and I just couldn’t get excited without him there to share it with me. Later, with all the sex in the stories, I realized everyone would think of Shanna and figure it was a case of ‘like mother, like daughter.’ Sand Point is so conservative. The whole thing escalated with the murders and I kept hoping they’d be solved and my novels would be forgotten. Especially by the mayor. You’ve heard him talk about the books as if they’re pornographic.”

“Phillip Stone pretends babies are found under cabbage leaves.”

She let out a choked laugh. “Yeah. He’ll probably fire me when he finds out I wrote them.”

“He doesn’t have the authority,” Henry said firmly. “And he can’t afford to offend Max Lawson’s daughter-in-law. Max would run for office again if it meant protecting you, and Phillip knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against Max. Stone only got in because of that midterm election. It was by default and he knows it.”

Henry wasn’t exaggerating. Her father-in-law had resigned after his son’s death, too devastated to do anything else, but he was still popular.

“Your mother had a good heart, Kelly. That’s what counts. As for what some people might think…they aren’t worth worrying about. I’m sure the Lawsons are as proud as I am.”

“They seemed pleased. They don’t need to be concerned, but that hasn’t stopped them from fretting over my future.”

They chatted a few minutes longer before she said goodbye.

Henry’s assurances helped. Kelly worried too much about what people thought, but she’d never wanted Mitch or his parents to be embarrassed because of her. The Lawsons had always been kind, though in the beginning they must have wondered what sort of wife their son was getting.

She’d wondered.

What had she known about being a wife and member of such a squeaky-clean, American-as-apple-pie family?

Her cell phone beeped with a text message from Viv. Noon press Conf. Hizonor and Ben had hrt 2 hrt. B hated Hzs last memo.

Kelly made a face. Ben again.

And yet a shot of adrenaline went through her. He would undoubtedly reveal her identity as the author of the Deep books. She couldn’t blame him. Being able to say something was better than “no comment.”

At noon she resolutely walked down to the room where the mayor held his press conferences. Facing the questions directly was the smartest move, but she wasn’t looking forward to it.

BEN’S EYEBROWS ROSE WHEN he saw Kelly in the back of the room. Her chin tilted defiantly and he was torn between admiration and irritation.

He’d just finished talking to his uncle about Kelly. Henry’s ire had reached new heights, but he’d eventually calmed down and asked Ben not to say she’d written the Deep books. Henry and Gina weren’t entirely reasonable when it came to Kelly, though they hadn’t needed to worry—there was no point in revealing her identity, and some benefit to keeping it confidential. If someone was copycatting the murders in her novels it was probably for thrills and attention, and Ben didn’t want to feed the situation.

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