36 Hours Serial

As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty-six hours will change the town and its residents forever….

For Her Eyes Only Part 2

Ever since she blacked out at Squaw Creek Lodge the night of the storm, Jessica’s been having visions. What does it mean? If only she could have a vision about where things are going between her and Stone—but that’s still a mystery. And since her last vision of Stone in danger, she has even more to worry about.

Stone’s glad to have Jessica back in his life. And since he found out the truth about the mayor’s death, he’s taking her visions seriously. But if Olivia’s death wasn’t an accident, there’s a killer out there, and Jessica might be in danger….

The story concludes in For Her Eyes Only Part 3.

Dear Reader,

In the town of Grand Springs, Colorado, a devastating summer storm sets off a string of events that changes the lives of the residents forever….

Welcome to Mills & Boon exciting new digital serial, 36 Hours! In this thirty-six part serial share the stories of the residents of Grand Springs, Colorado, in the wake of a deadly storm.

With the power knocked out and mudslides washing over the roads, the town is plunged into darkness and the residents are forced to face their biggest fears—and find love against all odds.

Each week features a new story written by a variety of bestselling authors like Susan Mallery and Sharon Sala. The stories are published in three segments, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the first segment of every three-part book is free, so you can get caught up in the mystery and drama of Grand Springs. And you can get to know a new set of characters every week. You can read just one, but as the lives and stories of each intertwine in surprising ways, you’ll want to read them all!

Join Mills & Boon E every week as we bring you excitement, mystery, fun and romance in 36 Hours!

Happy reading,

About the Author

Sharon Sala is a native of Oklahoma and a member of Romance Writers of America. She is a New York Times,USA TODAY, Publisher's Weekly and Waldenbooks mass-market bestselling author of eighty-five-plus books written as Sharon Sala and Dinah McCall. She's a seven-time RITA® Award finalist, Janet Dailey Award winner, five-time National Reader's Choice Award winner, four-time Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews winner and a four-time winner of the Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence.

For Her Eyes Only Part 2

Sharon Sala

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Ever since hitting her head during the blackout, Jessica didn’t understand what was happening. All of a sudden she was having visions: her friend’s kitchen was on fire, her sister’s keys were in the car, her neighbor was going to get hit by a car.… And then there was the main picture in her mind: Olivia Stuart didn’t have a heart attack. She was murdered by a tall woman who smelled like gardenias. But no one believed her, not even Stone, the love of her life. Everyone was already thinking she was a freak. Would Stone be next on that list? She just got him back. Would this send him packing? And what if the woman who killed Olivia came after Jessica, since Jessica was the only “witness” to the crime?

Chapter Five

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

There was little else Dr. Noah Howell could think to say about the small dark bruise he found on the back of Olivia Stuart’s leg.

Det. Stone Richardson forced himself to focus on the tiny portion of bruised flesh, and not on what was left of the woman she’d been.

“So, Doc, without an autopsy, give me a best-guess scenario. What do you think could have caused that bruise?”

Noah looked up at Stone in disbelief. He still couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then he looked back down, staring intently at the small purple spot. Even through his surgical gloves, he could feel the cold morbidity of Olivia’s flesh. He shook his head and pulled the sheet back over her body.

“Without actual proof, it would be hard to—”

“Damn it, Doc, I asked for a guess, not a thesis.”

Noah looked up. “I’d probably guess it was a needle mark.”

Stone had been expecting him to say it, and yet when it came, he reeled backward in shock.

“Son of a bitch.”

Noah pushed the body back into the drawer, then shut the door. He shivered. “I’ll inform the coroner’s office and order an autopsy immediately.”

Stone stared at the wall of drawers. Olivia Stuart awaited her disbursement into the earth behind door seventeen. Knowing her as he had, he was certain her spirit was already in a better place, but what was left of her body deserved more than it was about to receive.

Did someone really kill the mayor just before she could attend her son’s wedding? Why else would she have a needle mark on the back of her leg? Damn.

“And I’ll handle it from my end,” he said, then turned toward the door without waiting to see if Noah followed. “Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

Only after they were in the elevator on their way up to ground level, did Stone speak again.

“I need a copy of the autopsy report on my desk within twenty-four hours.”

Noah shook his head. “No way. We’re so behind now that—”

Stone put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Listen, Doc, if what we suspect is true, someone already thinks they’ve gotten away with murder. I don’t want to wait a minute longer than necessary to start an investigation. Understand?”

Noah nodded, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll do what it takes to get the job done, even if I have to do it myself.”

The elevator doors opened and Stone stepped out. “Coming?”

Noah shook his head, pointing to the floors above. “I’m late for surgery as it is.”

Stone paused in the door of the elevator, bracing his hands against the doors to keep them from closing.

“Doc, I need you to do me one more favor.”

A wry grin spread across Noah Howell’s face. “Why am I not surprised.”

Stone’s expression darkened. “Keep this quiet. I don’t want speculation to supercede facts.”

“Of course.”

Stone stepped back and the doors closed immediately, taking Noah to the floors above.

A few minutes later, Stone slid into the seat of his car and then stared blindly out the window in disbelief. How had Jessica known this? She hit her head during the powerful storm that had crippled Grand Springs and now she’s having visions. And because she had, another, more serious problem dawned. In a way, she was witness to a murder. If word got out, she could be in danger herself. And with that thought came still another. Thinking of Jessie in danger made him sick with fear. He wiped a shaky hand across his face and closed his eyes, trying to remind himself that he had no claims on her other than the fact that she was just another innocent citizen he’d sworn to protect. But he kept remembering the way she laughed and the way she made love. As he broke out in a cold sweat, he groaned.

“Damn it,” he muttered, “I don’t need this,” then he started the car and headed back to the station.

He’d already decided he wasn’t saying anything to anyone but Sanderson until the autopsy report was in his hands. And he could just imagine how the chief was going to take the news. How does one tell the chief of police that some woman had a psychic vision and Stone had decided to act upon it? He shook his head. It sounded crazy, even to him.

* * *

Jessica was a morning person. Usually, she got up with a buoyant attitude that stayed with her through the rest of the day. But today, as she stepped out of the shower and glanced at herself in the mirror, she frowned.

In spite of doctor’s orders, she had removed her bandage and washed her hair. Shoving back her ragged bangs, she turned her head, first one way, then another, looking intently at her wound before reaching for a towel. The way she looked at it, it was a toss-up as to which was worse—her homegrown haircut, or the bald spot that was sprouting new growth.

“I don’t care,” she told herself as she dried. “I don’t have to go to work. Who’s going to see?”

And then the phone rang. She dropped the towel and bolted, flopping across her bed as she reached for the phone beside her pillow.

“Hello.”

Stone’s voice rolled over her senses like warm honey on hot bread.

“Jessie, it’s me.”

In spite of the fact that she was safe from prying eyes, she instinctively reached for a sheet, then realized he wouldn’t know she was naked. An odd little smile came and went as she dropped the sheet and moved the phone a little closer to her mouth. It was a decadent feeling to be talking to this man without wearing a stitch.

“I called to see how you were feeling,” Stone said.

She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. The air from an overhead fan was blow-drying the lingering moisture from her skin and she imagined that it was Stone’s breath instead. She was so into her fantasy that her nipples suddenly peaked and hardened as her body tightened with longing.

She sighed. “I’m feeling fine. Just fine.”

Stone frowned. She sounded strange, almost drugged.

“Did I wake you?” he asked.

She answered before she thought. “Oh, no. I’ve been up for ages. I just got out of the shower.”

Stone gripped the receiver until his knuckles whitened, and he tried, without much success, to concentrate on something besides the thought of Jessica, wet and nude.

“Uh—” Realizing that he’d totally lost focus as to why he’d called, he gave himself a mental kick in the butt and shifted the receiver to his other ear.

Jessica was woman enough to hear Stone’s confusion. And just when she could have taken heart from the fact that he could be remembering their past, she edited her thought. Yes, a naked woman might do wonders in getting some attention from Stone, but what about one with a bald spot and stitches? Aware of the dampness beneath her head, she abandoned her fantasies and sat up.

“Stone, hang on a minute, will you?” Without waiting for his answer, she dropped the phone and rolled off the bed to get a towel for her wet hair. It was dripping all over the bed.

Moments later, she was back. “Thanks,” she said. “I was getting everything wet.”

He groaned and covered his face with his hand.

“Stone?”

He jerked. At last. A reason to focus. “What?”

“Was there a particular reason you called?”

His mind was a blank, and then he remembered the autopsy in progress, and that he had wanted to warn her about talking to anyone other than him.

“Oh! Yeah! Uh, you know yesterday, when we talked about what you saw?”

She tensed and sat up.

“Yes, what about it?”

“You might have been right.”

She’d known it, and yet hearing it said aloud gave her chills.

“About Olivia and the needle?”

“Yes, well—maybe yes about Olivia, maybe no—but you were right about my lost check. It was where you said it would be. And, I think you should know that they are performing an autopsy on Olivia Stuart. We’ll know more soon.”

“Oh, Lord.”

Stone heard her panic. And the fact that she’d been unable to come up with one of her colorful comments was proof of how rattled she must be.

“Jessie, I need you to do something for me.”

She felt sick to her stomach, and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Don’t talk about this to anyone else. At least, not until I tell you it’s all right.”

“Why?”

He had to tell her. Her life could be on the line.

“Because, if you’re right, then that means Olivia was murdered. And if she was, then that means there’s a murderer who will be very unhappy to learn there was a witness…of sorts.”

There were aspects of this mess that kept going from bad to worse. She started to shake.

“But I’m not really a witness. At least not the kind that will help you solve the case. I saw Olivia being stabbed, but I never saw the woman’s face who did it.”

Stone frowned. For some reason, he’d been expecting her to furnish recognition as to the attacker’s identity.

“Then, how do you know it was a woman?” he asked.

She closed her eyes, doing a mental playback of what she’d seen. “Because…”

She paused, trying to focus. The hands. Those long, tapering fingers. And the polish. She was wearing red nail polish! Suddenly it dawned.

“She was wearing nail polish. Red nail polish. And I think maybe perfume. Every time I see it happening, I smell gardenias.”

Stone’s frown deepened. “What else, Jessie? Think.”

“That’s all,” she said. “I didn’t see her face, I swear. My focus seemed to be entirely on Olivia.”

“Okay, don’t worry about it,” Stone said. “The main thing is, keep what you saw to yourself.”

Jessica nodded, and then remembered. Brenda! She’d told her sister, Brenda.

“Uh, Stone…”

“Yeah?”

“Brenda knows.”

His stomach tied itself into a miserable knot. “Damn.”

She frowned. “Well, I had to tell someone, and she is my sister, remember?”

In spite of the fact that no one could overhear their conversation, a flush heated his face as he glanced over at Stryker’s desk. The accusation in Jessie’s voice had been no accident. He’d dated one sister and made love to the other. It was a mess he could have never foreseen. But it was over two years ago. What he had to remember was to keep his personal life out of his job.

“Okay, so she knows,” Stone said. “But tell her to keep her mouth shut about everything, okay?”

If it hadn’t been so awful, Jessica might have laughed. “I already disappoint and embarrass her on a daily basis. There is no way she’s going to shoot off her mouth about what I said.”

Stone spoke before he thought. “You’re wrong. I know she used to feel responsible for you, but you were never a burden.”

Jessica was stunned. “But I’m a grown woman. I’m responsible for myself,” she muttered.

“Maybe you are now,” Stone said quietly. “But when your parents died, you were what…seventeen?”

Sudden tears burned Jessica’s eyes. “Just about,” she said softly.

“Well, then, did you ever think that it might be difficult for her to change how she thinks a big sister should act?”

Jessica was speechless.

“Jessica?”

She sniffed. “What?”

“As soon as I know something final, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” she said, and hung up the phone.

The quiet in her house seemed threatening. With a shaky sob, she rolled herself into a ball and pulled the sheet up over her shoulders. She would call Brenda, but later, when she would be able to talk without crying.

* * *

Jessica was on her knees in the dirt, pulling weeds from her flower bed when a car pulled into her driveway. She braced herself on one knee and turned to see Brenda getting out of the car. From the way she was dressed, she must have come straight from work. But it wasn’t what Brenda was wearing that concerned Jessica the most. It was the expression on her face. In that moment, Jessica thought, She knows about the autopsy.

Jessica stood, and then pulled off her gloves and tossed them on the front porch step. Waving a hello, she tried hard to smile, but her chin quivered instead. Moments later, she was in Brenda’s arms.

“Oh, honey.” It was all Brenda could think to say.

“Stone called you, didn’t he?”

Brenda stepped back and cupped her little sister’s face with her hands.

“Yes, thank goodness, but it should have been you. Why didn’t you tell me, Jessie? I shouldn’t have had to hear this from him.”

Jessica led her up the steps to the porch swing. “Want something to drink?” she asked as Brenda plopped down in the swing.

Brenda caught her by the hand and pulled her down beside her in the seat.

“I want you to talk to me.”

Jessica sat down in a slump, staring at a swirl in the wood beneath her feet.

“I already told you what I saw. You didn’t believe me then, why believe me now?”

Guilt fell hard on Brenda Hanson’s shoulders as she looked at her baby sister’s face. The gamine features. The ragamuffin hair. That smudge of dirt on the side of her face. Mentally, she knew Jessie was a grown woman, but in her heart, she would forever see her sister as younger, and weaker, and waiting for someone to carry her over the rough spots in the road.

“Be reasonable, Jessie. Would you have believed me if the situation had been reversed?”

Jessica sighed, then looked up, grinning an apology. “Probably not.”

“Then, am I forgiven?”

Jessica threw her arms around her sister’s neck. “Of course, and I’m really glad you’re here.”

Brenda returned the hug. “Get dressed. I’m taking you out to dinner.”

Instinctively, Jessica’s hand went to her hair. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m pretty tired. Maybe we could just—”

Brenda grinned. “Stuff the excuses, baby sister, and quit worrying about your hair. You know…in an odd, disheveled sort of manner, it suits you.”

Jessica made a face and got up. “Where are you taking me?”

“You get to pick,” Brenda said.

“Oh, good. I’ve been hungry for Mexican food for days.”

Brenda rolled her eyes. “Just what I need! You know I can’t resist that stuff, and those cheese enchiladas go straight to my thighs.”

“You can diet tomorrow,” Jessica said, and headed for the house. “Make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”

Brenda followed her inside, thankful that their relationship was back on level ground.

* * *

The autopsy report was in a folder near Stone’s left hand. The conference he and Jack Stryker had just had with the chief was still ringing in his ears. He’d already read the report. Not once, but twice. And even though he’d more or less prepared himself for the positive results, what Noah Howell told him had stunned him.

Potassium. Olivia Stuart had been murdered with potassium. Enough to induce immediate cardiac arrest. They were guessing at least forty milliliters. And tracing it was going to be next to impossible, because it wasn’t a controlled drug. Hospitals didn’t even keep the stuff under lock and key.

He kept staring at the folder, knowing he was going to have to give Jessie a call. This changed everything. He could no longer ignore the truth. Olivia Stuart had been murdered. And, as of fifteen minutes ago, there was an official investigation under way.

Stone looked up as Stryker came out of the washroom, drying his hands. He glanced at Chang, who was on the phone at a nearby desk. Stryker had all the facts as Stone knew them, but Chang was a wild card in this mess. Jessie had talked to him first. Stone had to make sure that there had been no inadvertent leaks to the media about Jessica Hanson’s so-called powers. He waited until Chang hung up, and then walked over to his desk and tossed the folder containing the autopsy report in front of him.

When the folder landed between his hands, Chang looked up, startled by the abrupt interruption to his work.

“What’s the big deal?” he asked.

Stone pointed. “See for yourself.”

Chang opened the folder and started to read. Halfway down the page, he stiffened. When he had finished, he handed the file back to Stone.

“Son of a gun! Who would have thought?” And then an odd, startled expression crossed his face.

Stone tensed. Chang had remembered.

“I want you to keep quiet about what you know,” Stone said.

Chang stood up. “She was right, wasn’t she? But how could that be? How did she—?”

“I don’t know,” Stone said. “And for that matter, neither does she. However, the fact remains that a woman was murdered, and, for all intents and purposes, Jessica Hanson is a witness.” He lowered his voice. “Which means…we keep quiet about how we found out. What matters now is finding out who did it—and why.”

Chang shook his head. “I just didn’t believe her. It was such a far-fetched—”

Stone interrupted. “Stryker and I have the case. I’d appreciate it if, for the time being, you forget everything Jessica Hanson told you. The less said about what’s happened, the better. We’ve already lost our mayor. We don’t need to put any more people in unnecessary danger, right?”

Chang kept shaking his head as he dropped back in his chair. “I can’t believe it. Who would have thought?” And then he slapped the side of his head and groaned. “Oh, man!”

“What’s wrong?” Stone asked.

“This morning, I was at the doughnut shop, and Canfield and I were talking about all the weird things that have been happening since the storm.”

Stone braced himself. Already, he knew what Chang was going to say. “Damn it, Erik. Tell me you didn’t blab it all over the place.”

Chang’s shoulders slumped. “It was so far-fetched. How could I have known she was telling the truth?” He looked up. “I never said her name. I swear. All I said was some woman.”

“Son of a—” Stone pivoted, resisting the urge to hit out, yet in a way, he also understood Chang’s reaction. He’d known Jessie Hanson for years. Hell, he’d even made love to her. And he’d doubted her, too. Well, the fat was in the fire, so to speak, and someone had to let Jessie know.

“Hey, Stryker.”

Jack looked up.

“Want to take a ride?”

Understanding dawned. “You going to see her?”

Stone nodded.

A slight smile crossed Stryker’s face. “Something tells me she’d rather hear it from you. Besides, I’m going to swing by the mayor’s house on my way home. They’ve already taped it off as a crime scene, although I hate to think of what valuable clues have been lost. I just hope to hell her cleaning lady was as delayed by the blackout as we’ve been.”

Relieved that he was going to see Jessie alone, Stone added, “I’ll meet you there as soon as I’ve talked to Jessie.”

Jack grinned. “I won’t hold my breath.”

* * *

“Well, for goodness’ sake,” Brenda said as they pulled into the driveway of Jessica’s home from their evening out. “Look! Someone’s here.”

Stone’s wine-colored car looked black under the streetlights, but Jessica recognized it just the same. And when she saw him get up from her porch swing and start down the steps to meet them, she started to panic.

“Why, isn’t that Stone Richardson?” Brenda asked.

When Jessica didn’t answer, Brenda turned to tease. But the thought died as she saw Jessie’s expression.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

Jessica undid her seat belt and got out of the car without answering. Stone met her halfway.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked.

Stone nodded.

Jessica covered her face with her hands and moaned. Brenda was there within moments, her voice trembling as she took Jessica in her arms.

“Jessie, honey, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Stone answered for her. “Olivia Stuart was murdered. The autopsy report proved it without a doubt.”

Brenda’s arms tightened around Jessica’s shoulders. She heard him, but she just couldn’t believe it. Even when Jessica had warned her what was taking place, she hadn’t really believed it would prove to be true.

“Oh, my God,” Brenda whispered.

Jessica tore free of her sister’s grasp and started toward her home. It didn’t make sense, but she had an overwhelming need to get inside. There, she’d be safe.

Stone grabbed her as she started to run past him. His hands were firm upon her arms, but his voice was gentle as he did what he could to ease her panic.

“Let me go!” Jessica cried.

“Jessie, look at me,” Stone urged.

She glanced over her shoulder at Brenda, her eyes wide with shock. But Brenda hadn’t moved.

“Jessie…” Stone’s voice was calm, his warning less than urgent. It was more a tone one would take with a child who wouldn’t listen.

She took a deep breath, telling herself that it would be all right, and looked up. Stone was watching her. Waiting.

“I’m all right.” She stepped backward out of his grasp. “Sorry. For a moment there, I guess I just panicked.”

A car turned the corner of the block. The headlights swept across them, then it continued up the block to a house at the end of the street. Stone held out his hand.

“Let’s go inside.”

Jessica started up the steps, with Stone and Brenda right behind her. Her hand was on the doorknob when she remembered that it was locked. Muttering beneath her breath, she began to dig in her purse when Stone appeared at her side, the trusty lock pick in his hands.

“Allow me,” he said with a grin.

Once more, the lock gave to his skillful intrusion, and he stepped aside for the women to proceed. Brenda eyed him thoughtfully as she passed by. Stone managed a smile, but couldn’t bring himself to fully meet her questioning gaze. When he’d been learning about police protocol, they had left out the part about wooing women of the same family. Now he knew why.

Jessica flipped on the lights as she entered. Stone shut the door behind him. They were inside. Together. And it seemed that no one knew what to say or where to start.

Finally it was Jessica who broke the ice, and her question ended the odd stalemate by bringing the true problem to the fore.

“Am I in any danger?”

“I don’t think so,” Stone said. “However, there’s a possibility that the word has already been leaked about someone having a premonition about Olivia being murdered instead of dying from a heart attack.”

Jessica glanced at Brenda.

“Don’t look at me,” Brenda said quickly.

“It wasn’t your sister,” Stone said. “It was one of ours.”

“That detective,” Jessica said. “The one who laughed in my face.”

“He didn’t exactly laugh,” Stone reminded her.

“Well, he did everything but laugh,” she said, and then sighed. “It doesn’t really matter, I guess. What does matter is finding out who killed Mrs. Stuart. I always liked her.”

“Everyone liked her,” Brenda said.

“Someone didn’t,” Stone said.

Jessica blanched. That panicked feeling was coming back, and she needed to change the subject. She glanced at Brenda and tried to smile. “Who wants coffee?”

“I’ll make it,” Brenda offered.

“That’s a relief,” Stone said, and was rewarded by Jessie’s offended glare. He grinned. Right now he would have done anything to get her mind off the business at hand.

Brenda disappeared down the hall, leaving Stone and Jessica alone.

“So, what are you thinking?”

In her typical straightforward manner, Jessica gave him an answer he wasn’t ready to hear.

“That you could have called to give me this information.”

He looked startled. “Well, yes, I suppose I—”

“Then, why didn’t you?” she asked.

Stone froze. Why didn’t he call? His gaze swept her face, then her body, trying to find an answer she would believe.

There was a smudge on the leg of her slacks, and her hair was as flyaway as the expression in her eyes. Along with the stitches just visible beneath her bangs, the small, bare spot surrounding them made him ache to hold her. She was so small, and looked so fragile and afraid. And as he stood, caught within the power of a blue, megawatt stare, he knew.

“Because I wanted to see you.”

He’d shocked her. He could see it in her eyes.

Startled, Jessica took a small step back.

His voice lowered and he followed her retreat. “Because I wanted to hold you.”

Her heart started to pound. How dare he tell her these things now?

“You’ve said all this before. Besides, you know it’s easy to say when my sister is just down the hall.”

He paused in midstep. At that moment, he realized he’d completely forgotten Brenda was even in the house. But it didn’t stop him long. He started after her.

“I don’t care if the Mormon Tabernacle Choir is in the next room, and if you’ll stand still long enough, I’ll prove it.”

She froze.

A wry smile spread across his face. “That’s what I like best about you, honey. You always know when to call a man’s bluff.”

His arms slid around her shoulders, and then he was pulling her close—and closer still.

She wound her arms around his neck. “I’m not your honey,” she whispered. “You didn’t want me, remember?”

He kissed her slowly. He tasted the edge of her lower lip, then moved past the gasp she’d just made to the sweet curve of her upper lip where it dipped downward in the center like the bud of a rose. He felt a shudder rip through her, and answered with a sigh of his own as he took her in his arms, lifting her off her feet until she was dangling in his grasp, several inches off the ground.

His whisper was soft near her ear. “You know what, Jessie Leigh?”

She opened her eyes and got lost in that dark, gray gaze. Only after he’d kissed her again then set her back on the floor did she remember he’d asked her a question.

“What?” she said with a sigh.

“I never said I didn’t want you.”

“But you let me go. It’s all the same thing.”

“I tried marriage and failed…miserably. I’m not stupid. I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.”

She blinked through tears.

“But I’m not Naomi.”

He looked down at her tousled hair and tear-filled eyes and pulled her close, pressing her face against the center of his chest. For a moment, he neither moved nor breathed as a longing for something more than they’d had before hit him deep.

“I know who you are, Jessie Leigh. I remember the feel of your skin beneath my fingers. I—”

Brenda’s shout echoed down the hall.

“Coffee’s done!”

Startled by her sister’s untimely intrusion, she made a face and then sighed. “Rusty nails. Why wasn’t I born an only child?”

Stone stepped back, grateful that he’d been saved from making another serious mistake. It didn’t matter—couldn’t matter—how much he wanted Jessie, or how much he cared for her. He’d been down that road before, and there was nothing at the end of it but trouble.

* * *

Long after Stone and Brenda were gone, Jessica lay in her bed, imagining she could still feel the imprint of Stone’s mouth upon her lips and his breath upon her face. She closed her eyes, cuddling a pillow against her breast because she needed to be held and it was the closest thing to comfort she was going to receive.

Chapter Six

It Was Murder!

The glaring headlines of the Grand Springs Herald on Friday morning were causing an uproar all over the city. Gossip abounded as the news of Olivia Stuart’s death was given a new and macabre twist.

It was common knowledge that the mayor had been publicly and vocally opposed to a strip mining consortium that was trying to establish backing within the community so they could renew their lease. Fingers of suspicion could be pointed in any number of directions, but there was no proof linking the naysayers to Olivia Stuart’s death.

Other than the autopsy report, the detectives assigned to the case had few clues, and none that would stand up in court.

And, to Stone’s dismay, although it had yet to appear in the paper, he’d already heard whispers on the street about a secret witness having a psychic vision about the murder.

If Jessica Hanson was to be believed, and Stone had no reason to doubt her now, then the killer was a woman who preferred red fingernail polish and the scent of gardenias. For a man trained to deal in physical facts, it was one hell of a pitiful lead with which to start a case.

* * *

Jessica Hanson was one of the few people in the city who should not have been shocked by the morning headlines, yet when she picked the paper up off her front lawn and opened it on the way to the house, she saw the headline and stumbled, stubbing her toe on a crack in the concrete.

Ignoring the pain, she stood barefoot on her walkway, with the tail of her robe trailing in dew-damp grass, and read—from the headline, to the byline, to the last period that ended the piece.

“Isn’t it awful?”

Startled that she was no longer alone, Jessica looked up in surprise. Tinee Bloom, who lived in the next-to-the-last house at the end of the block, was standing at the edge of the path with her dog, Barney, on a leash. True to her name, Tinee Bloom favored clothing with vivid floral designs, and the green-and-purple, knee-length float dress she was wearing this morning was no exception.

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