Steph reached the pharmacy’s white-painted steel door. The open pharmacy door.

She froze in disbelief. She remembered locking up the night before. That’s when she’d turned and nearly bumped into Hal. She blushed at the memory. But she had closed and locked the door.

Hadn’t she?

A chill ran through her. A vise of tension wound itself around her head. Her heart beat louder and her breath came in short spurts.

“Easy,” she murmured. No reason to freak out. Not yet.

Careful not to let her fingers touch anything, Steph kneed the door ajar. She slipped inside and headed for the cabinet where she kept the narcotics locked up. But before she got there, she caught sight of the empty shelf against the back wall.

The pseudoephedrine was gone. Her worst nightmare had come true. Her thief was making meth.

GINNY AIKEN

Ginny Aiken, a former newspaper reporter, lives in Pennsylvania with her engineer husband and their three younger sons—the oldest married and flew the coop. Born in Havana, Cuba, raised in Valencia and Caracas, Venezuela, she discovered books early, and wrote her first novel at age fifteen while she trained with the Ballets de Caracas, later known as the Venezuelan National Ballet. She burned that tome when she turned a “mature” sixteen. Stints as reporter, paralegal, choreographer, language teacher and retail salesperson followed. Her life as wife, mother of four boys and herder of their numerous and assorted friends, brought her back to books and writing in search of her sanity. She’s now the author of more than twenty published works and a frequent speaker at Christian women’s and writers’ workshops, but has yet to catch up with that elusive sanity.

Suspicion
Ginny Aiken

MILLS & BOON

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For I have kept the ways of the Lord; I have not done evil by turning away from my God.

—Psalms 18:21

To Lynette Eason, a real-deal friend,

for helping me stay sane in a year of insanity.

CONTENTS

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

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

Loganton, North Carolina

“It looks even more ominous out there than it did fifteen minutes ago.”

Pharmacist Stephanie Scott shuddered as she stared out the front window of her general store/pharmacy again. September could bring nasty weather into her mountainous corner of the Carolinas, and that purply black sky in the early evening meant nothing good.

She turned to Jimmy Miller, her stock clerk. “You can go ahead and leave. It’s ready to storm.”

The sixteen-year-old’s freckled face brightened with a grin. “Cool, huh?”

“Only if I’m indoors—which is where you better get going unless you want to become a lightning rod.”

With a wave, Jimmy ran off, and Steph resumed her nightly routine. She tallied up the prescriptions she’d filled, cross-checked her computer list against her handwritten log and relaxed when everything matched up. She then locked her controlled-substances cabinet, brought down the metal grate over the counter, twisted the combination knob, left the pharmacy part of the store and then secured that door as well.

With her purse over her right shoulder and the night-deposit sack under her elbow, she latched the front of the store, set the alarm and slipped out the back. The satisfying snick of the dead bolt gave her a sense of security each and every night. She’d done everything she could to protect the community from drug thieves. That was a major source of concern and topic of discussion among pharmacists of late.

As she took the key from the regular door lock, an unexpected scritch sounded behind her.

Steph froze. Before she could turn, she was shoved off the back steps. She flew through the air, the key clutched tight in her fist. She landed on the filthy asphalt alley floor by the communal Dumpster, banging her right leg against the cold metal.

Pain stole her breath, but she knew what she had to do.

“Help!” Steph yelled, so loud her face throbbed from the effort.

A dark figure launched itself onto her back. The sharp blow from a knee to her spine took her breath away. Her attacker’s weight on her middle flattened her against the ground; the upright position gave the mugger advantage over her.

“Give me the key,” her attacker said in a guttural whisper.

Steph squirmed, tossed, bucked and kicked, all the time holding the key in her fist. She shoved her hand between her abdomen and the asphalt, out of the mugger’s reach. The rough surface ground away at the skin on her knuckles. With each kick at her assailant, the knees of her pants ripped more. At no time did she stop screaming.

At no time did her assailant stop beating. Her shoulders and the back of her head felt each blow twice, once when her attacker struck and then again when she hit the alley floor.

Time, however, did stop. Steph registered pain, the heavy weight on her back, the dampness of rain, the stench of trash…and something vaguely spicy and sweet laced in with the rot. Her fear-filled mind couldn’t identify it, but she knew it was there, somehow familiar, just beyond her grasp, important but elusive.

And still the pounding continued.

In what felt like hours, but could only have been a handful of seconds, Steph sustained blows on the head, her back, her arm and both legs. The alley surface scraped her face each time it touched down.

“What’s going on here?”

At the sound of local postmaster Andrew Cooper’s deep bass voice, the person on Steph’s back paused in his assault.

“Who are you?” Steph bucked one more time. “Why are you doing this?”

“Steph?” Mr. Cooper said. “Is that you?”

Her attacker stood.

Seconds later, footsteps pelted away as the first cold raindrops splashed on Steph’s sore back.

“Who’s there?” the postmaster called again, this time closer to Steph.

She rolled to her side. “Please call 911, Mr. Cooper. Someone tried to mug me.”

The portly gentleman trotted up and knelt at her side, cell phone in hand. “You hurt, missy?”

“I don’t think it’s serious, but we do need the PD.”

Dialing, Mr. Cooper tsk-tsked. “My first thought was about you.” He put the device to his ear and waited for a response. “I’ll have us someone here, pronto—Yes,” he said into the phone. “There’s been a mugging behind Scott’s Pharmacy…”

With help on the horizon, Steph’s eyes welled with tears. Who would have done this? Loganton wasn’t a particularly crime-prone town. Besides, it was no secret she didn’t make a great deal of money.

On the other hand, her pharmacy was rich with drugs, which she kept under lock and key. True, her professional bias immediately brought that to mind, but for what other reason would she have been attacked? Even someone who didn’t know her could verify with a minimum of effort how little cash she kept in the store. They could also watch her make the two deposits every day, one at lunchtime and the other after hours.

While Loganton was relatively clean by comparison to larger cities, in the past couple of years the town had experienced a scattering of drug overdoses, and last spring Ethan Rodgers and his fiancée, Tess Graver, had nearly died at the hands of a meth dealer.

Under the worsening rain, Steph unfurled her right hand. In her damp palm, within four half-moon indentations etched by her nails, lay the key to the door. “Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered.

She’d kept the drugs where they belonged.

At six o’clock, Hal Benson slid into his usual booth at Granny Annie’s Diner, the only eatery in Loganton. Even Pepper, his rescued greyhound, turned up her elegant nose at the cooking.

As he settled back against the puffy red vinyl seat, Karla, Granny Annie’s youngest niece, skidded to a stop by his booth, glass of water, order pad and red ink pen in hand.

Hal grabbed for the water in self-defense.

“Hey, Sheriff Hal!” Karla’s cheeks glowed pink, her brown eyes sparkled and her riot of black curls fought the restraints of the hairnet her part-time job forced her to wear. “You want the same as always?”

He took a drink as he thought for a minute. His frequent meat loaf, mashed potatoes and whatever vegetable Granny Annie offered that day didn’t really appeal to him tonight. “What’s the special?”

“Granny’s got two. Spaghetti, salad and garlic bread’s one, and the other’s chicken potpie, biscuits or corn bread and spiced apples on the side.”

“Hmm…the chicken sure sounds good. Why don’t you bring me some of that?”

“Iced tea?”

“Is there anything else a man would want with his meal?”

Karla laughed. “Not this sheriff, I guess.”

Hal took another sip of water then glanced out the window. The sky was ripe with the incoming thunderstorm. He hoped it would pass quickly; otherwise he was in for a drenching by the time he left the diner. Then he chuckled. If that was the worst thing he had to face that evening, he’d get off lightly.

Karla zipped off to the kitchen.

A flock of customers sailed in. The flurry of greetings inspired by their arrival filled the diner with the comfort of familiarity. Out of the corner of his eye, Hal saw Karla tear back out from behind the counter with her tray perched on a slender shoulder.

“Beep-beep!” She smiled at the newcomers in the aisle. “Beep-beep!”

Before the lively young waitress reached his booth, Hal’s cell phone rang. “Sheriff Benson here.”

“Hey, sir?” Patsy Anderson, his newest deputy, had a little-girl voice and the tenacity of a bulldog. “I’m not sure about this, but since you’re already out there for supper, I thought you might want to know.”

Hal held out a hand to slow Karla. “I want to know. What’s up?”

“Well, sir, it seems when the pharmacist, Miss Scott, went to close up tonight, she got mugged—”

“I’ll be right there. And thanks, Patsy.” He turned to Karla. “Can you have Granny hold my supper for me? I’ve got to go on a call.”

Karla rolled her eyes. “As if this was new.”

He sighed. Having Granny Annie hold his meal until after he’d taken care of whatever latest problem had erupted was not new. What was new this time was the victim.

Steph Scott had been mugged.

Hal hurried out, hopped into the cruiser, drove down Main Street, cut across River Run Road, then turned into the alley behind the pharmacy. He parked by the white Loganton PD car already there.

Veteran officer Wayne Donnelly and his rookie partner Maggie Lowe stood on one side of the back steps to the pharmacy, while Mr. Cooper, the postmaster, stood on the other. Steph sat on the top step, visibly shaken. All three were drenched by the now steady rain and blowing wind.

While Maggie smiled a greeting, Wayne frowned. Steph looked scared.

Hal tapped the brim of his hat, working to hold his concern at bay. “I was about to eat supper at Granny Annie’s when my deputy called. She figured since I was close by, I might be interested in what happened. I know you guys have jurisdiction, so I’m not here officially, unless you want my help, that is. Just came to offer, since Granny Annie’s is so close.”

Steph glanced up at him, her gray eyes huge. “All help is welcome,” she said, her voice low.

Hal shoved his hands in his pockets. That was that. It would now take an act of congress to budge him. “What happened?”

Maggie turned. “It sounds pretty typical. Steph was closing up shop when the mugger attacked. She fought him and was able to keep him from getting the key to the store.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hal saw Steph shiver. “Hang on.”

He ran to his cruiser. There was no reason for her to be cold as well as hurt when he had an unused jacket in the car. The abrasions on her face were bad enough.

“Here.” He held out the navy waterproof coat seconds later. “You need it more than my trunk does.”

For a moment, he thought she’d argue. It wouldn’t surprise him if she did. He’d watched Steph put everyone else’s needs before hers for years now, even back when they’d both been in school. She’d always been the one to help rather than the one who received the help. This time, however, she was in need.

Hal was about to insist when she surprised him by reaching out and taking the jacket. Their fingers grazed in the exchange, and the electric shock of awareness that hit him took his breath away. From the startled look on Steph’s face, it seemed she’d felt it, too.

For a moment, Hal wanted nothing more than to reach out, wrap his arms around her and promise her everything would be fine. But he couldn’t do that, so he did the next best thing. He held out the coat for her.

As she slipped her arms into the sleeves, he said, “We’re going to make sure we get the guy who did this to you.”

Her silvery-gray gaze met his. “Thanks.”

“Of course we will,” Maggie added, giving Hal a curious look.

He blushed.

With a shrug, she turned back to Steph. “Don’t suppose you have surveillance out here?”

Steph shook her head.

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea. We might have caught the guy on film.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You do that,” Maggie said. “Let’s get back to what happened here. You’re going to have to tell us everything you remember, every last detail. We never know what might be important in an investigation.”

“I understand,” Steph said. “I made sure everything inside was locked up as it should be before I walked out the back door. I took care of the dead bolt first, then the regular door lock. I was about to put my key chain into my purse, when…”

Her words faded off into the rush of the wind, and shudders shook her. This time, Hal couldn’t hold back. He reached an arm around her shoulders, offering the only thing he had to give right then: his comfort and support.

She met his gaze again, and he had the strongest urge to smooth the silky-blond bangs away from her eyes. But again, he couldn’t do that. For right now, his arm around her shoulders had to be enough.

Then Steph took a deep breath. “I’m pretty sure he was after the key to the store. He didn’t touch my purse. That wasn’t a regular thief. I think he was after drugs.”

Hal nodded. “Loganton’s drug problem seems to be growing. But I’m determined to clean up the mess in my county.”

Maggie chuckled. “Is that another one of those famous campaign promises, Sheriff Benson?”

Heat rushed into his cheeks. “Okay. So I am running for reelection. And, sure, I’ve made drugs a major plank in my campaign. But I hate the damage substance abuse brings down. And it’s not just the abuser it hurts, but it’s also the whole community that suffers. It’s a real issue.” He shook his head. “It’s not just a campaign promise, Maggie. It’s my personal commitment to shut down the drug trade that’s wormed its way into my jurisdiction.”

As he spoke, the sweet smile he liked so much brightened Steph’s pale face. “I’m so glad to hear that, Sheriff Benson. I’ve been doing what I can to educate the kids for the past few years.”

His heart kicked up its beat. “I can always use a partner in my camp.”

She gave a quick nod. “You’ve got one. Let’s get this creep.”

Easy, Hal, easy. She’s only promised to work with you to catch a mugger. But he was hungry for whatever he could get. He also knew if the Lord so willed, much could come from a tiny seed.

“Yes, let’s catch this creep before he strikes again, Steph Scott.”

The minute Hal uttered the words, a niggling thought crawled into the back of his mind and a hollow feeling into his gut. Just how did he plan to make good on his offer? He couldn’t imagine there’d be clues in the alley or footprints on the wet asphalt surface. There wouldn’t be fingerprints to lift since the mugger hadn’t touched anything but Steph’s back.

What if he couldn’t catch him?

He had not only an election to lose, but he also stood to lose the chance to know Steph better. He’d first noticed Steph in school, in third or fourth grade. He’d been too shy all through their teen years to approach her, even though his interest in her had only grown. Now, after all that time he really wanted to help her. And maybe get to know her. What better way to do that than to catch the guy who’d mugged her?

But, of course, there was always the possibility he’d fail. The creep might be long gone. Could he catch someone who’d left not a trace behind? Could he keep the light of trust in Steph Scott’s eyes from burning out?

On Wednesday, the day after the mugging, Steph spent the morning preparing prescription refills for residents at The Pines, a nearby retirement community, between the orders that came in over the phone or as regular drop-offs.

At two fifteen, Chad Adams, the new driver and deliveryman for Pharmaceutical Suppliers and Mr. Cooper’s much younger brother-in-law, came up to the counter and rapped his knuckles on the window.

“How’s it going, Steph?” he asked, scrubbing his ultrashort buzzed red hair.

“Same as always, Chad. Do you have a lot for me today?”

He chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Let me get to it, but first…” He plunked down his daily ration of red licorice ropes.

Steph rang it up, gathered his dollar and change and headed to the back room to check off the purchase order as Chad brought in the product. Once they were done, she sent Jimmy to sort and restock shelves as needed.

“Well, hello there, boss!” Darcy Thomas, Steph’s best friend since forever, burst into the store, her usual energy radiating from her every pore. She blew a bubble, and the pink stuff popped, never catching her lips or cheeks. She had a gift of sorts. “Whatcha got for me to do today?”

Darcy’s mother had died a little more than a year ago. The numerous courses of cancer treatments had wiped out any savings the two women had accumulated, leaving Darcy with a pile of bills to pay, including funeral expenses. Steph had offered her friend the opportunity to earn a few extra dollars by helping her on Wednesdays, when the store tended to be its busiest and she and Jimmy couldn’t keep up by themselves.

At four o’clock, Jimmy ran past her pharmacy counter in a hurry to stow his broom in the back storage room. “They’re here, Miss Steph!”

She glanced up and down the aisles of her store then turned to Jimmy. “Looking good! You did a nice job. Every shelf is full, and the aisles are clear and clean. We’re ready for them.”

Within seconds, the bell she’d hung on the front door clanged, announcing her customers’ arrival. A river of senior citizens flowed in, each one with a shopping plan in mind.

“Hey there, sunshine!” Mr. Mason Cutler called out. “It’s my lucky day. If I have to take blood pressure medicine, at least I get to see the prettiest girl in the Carolinas whenever I pick it up.”

Steph handed him his bag of pills. “You’re too much of a flatterer, Mr. Cutler. But I love you anyway.”

Miss Patience Doolittle, former school principal and professional spinster, as she identified herself, sidled up to the window. “Don’t you pay any attention to the old coot, Steph. He’ll yap your ear off if you let him.”

It never changed. The two should have married decades ago, but for one reason or another they hadn’t figured out they couldn’t live without bouncing ideas and arguments off each other.

Yet.

She still held out hope for them.

Steph smiled. “Here you go, Miss Doolittle. I have your arthritis meds ready for you.”

“Hey, Steph!” Darcy called. “Any more of those padded insoles? Seems everyone’s dumping their sandals for real shoes, and the things are flying outta here.”

Steph gave her directions to the stash of extra foot-care products. Then she went back to her queue of senior citizens.

The next hour rushed by as it always did. Before long, the antacids shelf was bare, the lotion, cologne and dusting powder area lay ravaged, and the neat pyramid of nutritional supplement shakes she’d had Jimmy construct ten feet away from her counter had been reduced to its two bottom rows.

Dawn Stallman, activities manager at The Pines, plunked down a bottle of shampoo, two boxes of tissues and a non-prescription antihistamine product on the counter. “I think they’re about ready to move on to our next invasion.”

Steph rang up the handful of items. “I don’t mind them. I think they’re sweet and wonderful.”

“Oh, they are. But they’re the quirkiest bunch you could imagine, too. And I love them.”

With a smile, Steph handed Dawn her bagged purchases. “I’ll be out to give my talk on skin care on Saturday afternoon.”

“Thanks. You’ve really made a difference. Most of them are taking better care of themselves since you started your preventive-care program. And you will touch on diabetics’ skin problems, right? They listen to you.”

Steph nodded. “It’s not a big deal. They’ve all done so much for their families and the town…the least I can do is help them raise their comfort level now that their bodies have begun to give out.”

After a hearty round of goodbyes, Dawn marched her troops out to the retirement community’s bus, and Darcy darted off to Miss Tabitha Cranston’s boarding house, where she worked as the housekeeper. Scott’s Pharmacy grew silent again—too silent. Steph loved what she did. And every struggle it had taken to get to where she was these days had been well worth the effort. She felt God had called her to serve Him by caring for His children’s medical needs.

“Hey, Miss Steph,” Jimmy said. “Would you just take a look at this? It’s ruined. Who would do such a thing?”

Steph leaned across her counter behind the pharmacy window and reached for the blood pressure cuff box the teen held out. One corner had been cut away with almost surgical neatness and precision. Her stomach sank.

This was the sixth damaged package they’d found after four weeks’ worth of Pines residents’ Wednesday shopping trips. Problem was, Steph couldn’t imagine any of her seniors in the role of vandal.

She sighed. “Let me have it. I’ll have to check it out.”

When she’d opened for business, Steph had been determined to offer the most reasonable prices possible and still make enough profit to keep the pharmacy open.

In five years of business, she’d avoided all vandalism. Sure, every once in a while she noticed the typical shoplifting kind of attrition, but no actual malicious damage. Until now. These many ruined items in four weeks weren’t typical.

Then again, there was nothing typical about the night before. She’d never felt any danger while at her store, but she’d been mugged. A thought crossed her mind. She stared at the box with its cutout on the side. Could there be a connection between the mugging and the vandalism? Should she report this to the detectives? It didn’t seem particularly important, but they’d told her to notify them if she thought of any detail, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

This certainly fell into that category.

If it turned out to be nothing, she’d feel totally stupid. But if it was connected to the mugging, and she didn’t call the cops, then they might be missing a potentially crucial clue.

Steph sighed. She had to call the PD.

Again.

A few minutes later, the pop of Mimi Larson’s ever-present bubble gum came over the phone. “We’ll have someone out there right away,” the Loganton PD’s dispatcher said. “It doesn’t sound like much, Steph, but I guess I can have the officers check it out for you.”

In spite of Mimi’s dismissive assessment, Steph couldn’t deny the uneasiness in her gut from the moment Jimmy had handed her the torn box. She knew the store’s true rate of attrition. Six items in four weeks wasn’t it. And such neat, surgical destruction?

No way was that normal. Even if it didn’t make any sense.

This was her little world, everything she’d worked so hard for. She’d overcome all the issues that came from her attention deficit disorder so as to finish her schooling. Then she’d had to work hard to raise the seed money. The licensing tests had posed a monumental challenge, and all the other hurdles she’d had to jump in order to open her store had nearly gotten the best of her. But she’d stuck it out. She wasn’t about to let some dishonest crook tear down her efforts now.

When the CB radio in Sheriff Hal Benson’s department cruiser crackled, he listened, even if it was only to eavesdrop on one of the police departments in his county. Like now.

“Delta-202,” Mimi from the Loganton PD said.

“Go ahead,” Wayne Donnelly answered.

“Steph Scott at the pharmacy’s reporting what might be vandalism…but it’s kinda weird.”

Hal bolted up in his seat. Steph? Vandalized?

He turned the cruiser around on the side road and listened more intently.

“10-4. It’s kinda quiet today. I’ll go check it out.”

“10-4, Delta-202. And thanks.”

Hal was tempted to turn on his siren, but who in his right mind used a siren for a vandalism call? Especially when the local police could and would handle it just fine. Still…

It was Steph who’d called. And she’d been mugged last night.

While it was just too pathetic to still be carrying a torch for the little blond girl three desks down from his in fourth, fifth, even tenth grade, Hal knew how he felt. He’d never found a woman who made his heart beat faster than the way Steph Scott always had.

If someone had hurt her, he had to help. Two calls in two days to the pharmacy were unheard of. And two too many, period.

He reached Scott’s in less than ten minutes. He didn’t want to think how many speed limits he’d obliterated to do so. But when he strolled in, he realized how foolish his rush had been. Wayne had everything under control, talking to Steph while Maggie inspected the store.

Well, everything except for the two tiny lines between Steph’s eyebrows. Which prompted Hal to speak. “Anything I can do to help?”

Steph and Wayne spun.

“Oh, hello, Sheriff Benson,” she said.

Wayne frowned. “Any problem, Benson?”

Hal shook his head. “I was near—” the county wasn’t that big “—and I heard the call on the radio. Just thought I’d stop by and see if you needed a hand. After all, Steph was mugged yesterday, and the radio call just caught my attention.”

Wayne jutted out his chin. “Don’t know that there’s much to see here. Just six messed-up boxes in four weeks. Maybe one of the seniors at The Pines was clumsy checking out the merchandise more’n Miss Scott would like when they come shopping. Maybe they thought trimming the damage they did might make it look like less.”

When no one agreed, he shrugged and went on. “Doesn’t look like much to me, even if Miss Scott here thinks it might have something to do with the mugger. I say folks are careless. Sometimes they’re just plain crazy, too. Either this is someone’s idea of a prank, and it’s downright mean, if you ask me, or stuff fell and got shoved around in the store.”

“That’s never been my experience,” Hal said. But at Wayne’s deepening frown, Hal hurried to add, “Still, it’s just like I said. I was close…but of course, I’m sure you have everything under control.”

You’re the one who doesn’t have anything under control, his conscience taunted with right-on-the-money accuracy.

On his way out, a thought occurred to him. “Did you get those security cameras yet?”

Steph gave him a look of disbelief. “When would I have had the time?”

“You might want to hurry things up. It might help you keep things under control.”

Control. One little word, but, oh, how much it encompassed. The PD had things under control. He was suggesting ways for Steph to keep things under control in her store. He sighed. The only thing not under control was him.

What was he doing here? No one needed him. He had a job to do.

He glanced at Steph again. There was just something about her that inspired him to leap tall buildings, stop speeding bullets—all the clichés. With a quick salute, Hal stood to the side, letting the efficient cops do their job. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make himself leave.

Irritated, he called himself the biggest fool in town.

Yet another cliché: he was a fool in love. Still, how could it be love when he hadn’t shared much more than passing greetings with Steph?

What kind of crazy am I?

TWO

“Before you go…” Maggie Lowe said as Steph stood to leave once the three law enforcement officers were done with their questions. “I suspect you’ll want to know what we just found inside the blood pressure cuff box.”

Steph shoved her bangs off her forehead then rubbed her palms, one against the other, and laced her fingers together. “A blood pressure cuff, I hope.”

The officer gave her a wry smile. “It was there. But you already knew that. It’s what we found behind the cuff that’s so interesting.”

Sheriff Benson crossed his arms. “You found something in the box?”

Officer Donnelly faced the other man. “Crazy as it sounds, there was a twenty-dollar bill shoved behind the cuff.”

“Huh?” Great! First she came across as the weak little victim who got knocked down, and now she sounded dumb. “I mean, money? There was cash inside the box?”

Maggie nodded. “It was an old bill, so when we check it for prints I’m sure we’ll find plenty of them—too many, actually. And then, when I called Dawn Stallman from The Pines, thinking one of the seniors might have…oh, I don’t know, felt guilty and stuck it in there to make up for the broken box, she says no one would fess up. She did ask all the seniors who came in today.”

“That is strange,” Steph said.

The sheriff uncrossed his arms. “I don’t think the twenty’s a case of conscience. The folks out at The Pines wouldn’t do that. They’d take the box they broke right up to the counter and face Steph—er…Miss Scott.”

“It wasn’t broken,” Steph said. “Someone cut into that box with a very sharp blade. Deliberately.”

Maggie nodded.

Sheriff Benson turned to Steph. “Who else came into the store today?”

She groaned. “I can’t begin to remember. Let’s see…Miss Tabitha picked up her prescription, and I remember Mr. Holcomb stopping in for his little girl’s insulin…” Steph frowned, concentrated and eventually came up with a list of about ten customers. Then she shook her head. “I’ll have to check my records to see who else picked up prescriptions. We can look at the checks and credit-card slips in the deposit bag, too. That’ll give us a better idea who was in the store.”

“Sounds good to me,” the sheriff said. He turned to the two police officers. “How about I follow her home? I can look at that bag. She—” he faced Steph “—you can make the deposit in the morning, right?”

As strange as it seemed, Steph felt relieved to know the sheriff, even though practically a stranger, would come home with her. She just didn’t relish walking into her little carriage house behind the Farmer’s Supply Store alone. The local farmer’s co-op had turned the town’s century-old livery stable, a lovely, historic building, into the wire-and-feed-and-more store, but by this time of night it was also dark and empty. For the first time she realized how isolated her home, the original livery owner’s home, was all the way out on the edge of town.

“I’ll stop by the bank on my way to work tomorrow morning,” she said, heading for her car. “And if it’s okay with all of you, I’d like to close up shop now.”

Damp from the rain and shivering from an excess of nerves, Steph couldn’t wait to be rid of the whites she wore to work. Fortunately for her, Loganton was small. It only took seven minutes to get home. In no time, she pulled her car into the garage, snagged her purse and deposit bag and locked up her gas-efficient compact car. She waited for the sheriff just inside the garage door, then, once he met her, used her garage-door remote to lock up behind them.

“I’m sorry to keep you so long,” she said as she went up the steps to the inside door. “This whole thing is just unbelievable…very unusual. But you can go on home now. I’ll get the list of customers to you in the morning.”

He gave her his brief but sincere grin, which lit up his brown eyes and deepened the crinkles at their corners. “Don’t worry about it. We’re partners in the battle against drugs, remember? Partners help partners.”

Steph stepped into her tiny kitchen, much too conscious of the tall sheriff’s presence at her back. What would he think of her home? It was, after all, an ultrafeminine nest by design.

She shivered and her teeth chattered. Were the tremors the result of the dousing she’d gotten outside? Or did the adrenaline from her natural fight-or-flight response, to first the mugging and now the theft, get the better of her? Or was her sharp awareness of her companion’s striking presence to blame? She took a deep breath then gestured toward her glass-topped iron bistro table and the two chairs with their heart shaped backs—all she could fit in the small space. “Have a seat. Can I get you a glass of water? Iced tea?”

“Iced tea sounds great.” He pointed to the deposit bag. “And I’ll get started with that list of customers while you change into dry clothes, so I can get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

Steph handed over the blue simulated-leather pouch, poured the sheriff a tall glass of tea and then ran to change. She couldn’t stand another second in her clammy clothes. Five minutes later, she was back, dressed in dry khakis and a cream-colored sweater.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “How many names did you come up with?”

“Here.” The sheriff turned his notebook so she could read it. “It’s not a particularly enlightening list.”

Steph scanned the names. “I see what you mean. I can’t picture any of these people vandalizing anything, much less beating me up.”

Her thready voice must have betrayed her exhaustion because he gave her an appraising stare. “Are you sure you don’t want to go stay with your parents? Will you be okay here by yourself?”

“I’m fine—tired, and sore from last night’s mugging, but that’s what ibuprofen is for, and I hear Scott’s Pharmacy has a good supply.” She smiled. “I’ve got an in there, so I don’t need to worry Mom and Dad. I’m okay.”

An awkward silence descended on the room. Steph studied the list of her customers’ names, the most convenient place to keep her gaze. She’d never had a man in her home before. This felt very strange, especially since she didn’t really know Hal Benson very well, and even though he’d come in his official capacity.

True, she remembered him from back in school; they’d graduated the same year. He’d been the class brain, while she’d been the one who stared out the window when the slightest thing distracted her, the one who made teachers despair. Then, after high school, she’d gone to UNC at Chapel Hill, where a kind and wise learning disabilities counselor worked with her, while Hal had headed for Princeton. How and why he became a sheriff after all that, she didn’t know.

“Umm…I guess I’d better get going.” He pushed away from the table, making his chair’s metal feet screech against the ceramic tile underfoot. He winced. “Sorry about your floor. I’m outta here. You do need to rest.”

She waved away his concern. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Tile is pretty tough stuff. But you’re right. I do need to rest.”

He stood in place, looking around the room, his cheeks reddening, clearly disoriented.

Steph chuckled. “Follow me. You don’t have to go out my back door. This is a funky little place, but it suits me just right.” She headed to the front. “Don’t try to tell my parents that, though. They’re convinced I should still be living at home.”

His laugh warmed her almost as much as her dry clothes had. “Family around these parts has long strings, doesn’t it? My parents stopped guilt-tripping me only when they decided to buy one of the cottages out at The Pines. I’m too young to live over there.”

At the front door, Steph turned and met the sheriff’s gaze. “Thanks again.”

He dipped his head. “It’s all in a day’s work.”

It struck Steph how shy Hal Benson really was. That explained a lot, like how they’d managed to go through school together and she still knew practically nothing about the man.

The earlier awkwardness returned. A hunted look crossed the sheriff’s craggy features. Steph’s natural response was to reach out, to say something to put him at ease, but she realized this wasn’t the right time.

Next time she saw the appealing sheriff, she’d make sure to reach out and make an extra effort at friendship. He seemed to be one of the truly good guys.

“Well,” he said when the tension grew tighter than the wire the Farmer’s Supply sold. “I’ll be in touch. As soon as we know something…”

“I look forward to hearing from you. I’m sure you’ll catch the mugger. And figure out this box-slashing thing, too.”

And she was. Hal Benson struck her as a man who wouldn’t give up until he’d met his goal. With his natural intelligence, she doubted much ever got the best of him.

“Thank you for your trust, Miss Steph—”

“Now, really.” She cut in with a smile. “You’ve known me since I wore that sloppy braid that never stayed tight back in school. I think you can drop the miss. I’m just Steph.”

His eyes twinkled. “Good night, just Steph. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good night, Hal. I’m sure you will.”

Steph locked the door behind the sheriff. After the echo of his footsteps melted into the rumble of the rain against her roof, the overwhelming silence shrouded her.

Funny how she’d never noticed the profound quiet of the area around her home. She loved the small home with its angled rooflines and nooks and crannies, but tonight, since the home did sit on the edge of town, she really felt alone. If someone tried to break in, no one would hear her screams.

Her only means of contact would be her cell phone.

She hurried back to the kitchen, leaving the living-room light on, the thud of her footsteps louder than she’d ever heard them before. The thought of eating nearly made her sick. Supper was not in her immediate future.

A quick rummage through her purse produced her phone. Clutching the device to her chest, Steph turned on even the small-wattage light over the kitchen sink, before hurrying to her room. She flicked on the overhead light, turned on the bedside lamp then headed to the bathroom, where she did the same with the last unlit fixture in her home.

She made a face at her reflection in the mirror. “This is so stupid.”

If anyone was planning to break in, they already knew she was home alone. Lights wouldn’t deter a dogged intruder. Still, they made her feel marginally better, and she wasn’t about to turn a single one off.

Sleep? Maybe. Maybe not.

In a handful of minutes, she’d washed her face, brushed her teeth, debated whether to don pj’s or stay fully clothed and shoed in case someone did try to break in, opted for the pj’s and crawled into bed. Her fluffy down blanket felt as light as the feathers that filled it but would offer the warmth she’d craved since she’d stepped out of her store.

A second crawled by. Another…three dozen more.

What was going on? Why would someone ruin a number of products on her shelves? And who had tried to break in? She was sure the mugging had been an attempt to get inside the store.

Had it been a run-of-the-mill robber, he wouldn’t have left her purse and the deposit pouch behind.

A car drove past on the road out of town, the hum of its engine and the splash of tires over the wet surface a frightening sound for the first time ever.

Steph scanned her bedroom, the cozy haven she’d made for herself. She’d only given her closet-romantic heart free rein in this room. A white-painted antique dresser sat at the right side of the window, while a wicker chair flanked the other side. The bed, also painted white, wore carved floral embellishments at the crest of the headboard, and she always piled it high with pillows and cushions, all of them decorated with embroidery, delicate vintage fabrics, ruffles, ribbons and lace. A white-on-white embroidered coverlet finished the bedding, and she’d always found the room soothing and welcoming.

But not tonight. Her safe little world had taken a blow. And she didn’t know how to make things right once again.

Before she went off the deep end and gave her lively imagination the chance to run away with her common sense, Steph reached for her Bible. With experienced hands, she flipped through it to her favorite verse. She took a deep breath, and as always, read Jesus’ words out loud.

“‘I will never leave you; never will I forsake you.’”

No doubt about it. He was a clumsy oaf when it came to women.

Hal pulled into the driveway of the sturdy old home he’d bought last year. It was a comfortable place, with large rooms, beautiful wood floors and leaded windows, but it was also a lonely place. That’s why he’d rescued a greyhound. Pepper was the best idea he’d ever had.

Maybe she was the only girl for him.

In college, he’d envied the guys with the smooth lines, but he hadn’t been able to imitate them. The stuff they came up with had always felt so fake. Sure, he’d dated, but not often, regularly or for long. Plus, he’d never forgotten Steph Scott. Every girl he’d met had started out with that strike against her.

After today, seeing Steph’s courage, her strength and her sweet gentleness, he was more certain than ever that all females he met always would.

Hal loped up to his front porch. On the other side of the door, Pepper’s nails tapped out an urgent SOS. She’d been locked in far longer than usual today.

As soon as he opened up, the sleek animal shot past him and straight to her favorite corner of the side yard, not ready to listen to his apology, not ready to forgive his slip. Then, when she trotted back inside, she graced Hal with a disdainful glare and shook herself within inches of his already soaked uniform pants’ legs. Hal knew many pet owners believed their animals had human traits. But when it came to Pepper he didn’t just believe it, he knew it.

She was uncannily human.

“All right, your royal highness.” He chuckled as he headed for the tall aluminum trash can where he stored Pepper’s kibble. “Forgive me, please! I am only a mere mortal and was detained by work.”

Hal scooped out a healthy serving of the crunchy chunks.

Pepper sniffed, unwilling to even lick his hand, her usual form of love-filled greeting. She burrowed into her meal as if Hal weren’t in the room.

He walked out of the former larder he’d turned into a first-floor laundry room, and then called back, “What’re you going to do when I do land a date with Steph?”

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Yeah, well. Maybe Pepper had it right, and he was dreaming. The way he’d acted at Steph’s hadn’t won him any awards. Suave, smooth and leading-man savvy, he wasn’t. But he was a decent, hardworking Christian and even more attracted to Steph now than he had been back in school, or more recently, from a distance.

She’d blossomed into a lovely woman.

In the large living room, Hal turned on his stereo to a Charlotte classic jazz station. As the sassy sound of Dave Brubeck’s “Blue Rondo a la Turk” filled his home, Hal felt his energy return. He had paint to strip from molding upstairs, and Blue Rondo’s beat should work to kick-start him into gear.

But before he made it to the stairs, his cell phone rang, and he had to turn down the sound. “Hello?”

“It’s Maggie Lowe. Sorry to bother you in the evening, Hal, but the guys at the lab just called. They did lift some prints from the blood pressure cuff box. I figured since you’d responded twice to calls to the pharmacy, you’d be interested in what they found.”

“Let me take a stab at it. You tell me how close I come. They found Steph’s prints, those of the skinny kid who fills her shelves, and nothing else.”

“We weren’t surprised, either.” Maggie fell silent for a moment. “Don’t know what it means—or whether it means anything at all.”

Hal sat in his wide leather armchair then propped his feet on the matching ottoman. “What’s really important here is whether the mugger is connected with the…I don’t know what to call Steph’s vandal. But that’s what I want to know.”

“That is the question. And just so you know, we’re going to drive around the pharmacy a little more often until we get this figured out.”

Good. “We’re sorta strapped for manpower—budgets, you know—but I’ll get my deputies to make a couple of runs by the pharmacy a time or two a day.”

“We appreciate the help. Two of our officers got new jobs, one in Atlanta and the other in Phoenix, during the summer. We’re down to just Wayne and me, and we’re looking to hire a pair of experienced cops. Well, we do have the chief, but you know his limitations.”

“Bruce is a good man.”

“But with tough limitations.”

Bruce Zacharias had been one of Charlotte’s best two decades ago, but these days his biggest battle was against worsening rheumatoid arthritis. He handled all of Loganton’s administrative work, directed Maggie and Wayne and was rumored to be about to announce his retirement.

“We all have our limitations, Maggie. That’s why I wish Steph had cameras in and around that store. They would catch what all of us, out of necessity and because of other assignments, miss.”

Hal stared at the stacked logs in his fireplace. His home always gave him a great deal of satisfaction, but tonight, nothing seemed to ease the knot in his right shoulder or the one in his gut. Maybe it was just hunger. He’d picked up his dinner from Granny Annie’s just as the woman was about to lock up.

Maybe it was Steph’s situation.

“I think we’ll get further on this one if we team up,” he told the police officer. “I’m sure you guys want this stopped, and I don’t want to see Steph Scott hurt again.”

“10-4, Sheriff Benson, 10-4.”

They hung up after brief good-nights, and then Hal went to ignite the pile of kindling he’d set out that morning before leaving for work. Soon, he had lively flames dancing in the fireplace, but instead of “Blue Rondo,” he’d put a moody Miles Davis CD into the player. The woodwork could wait another day.

He zapped the meal, and at the microwave’s ping, he took a fork, his plate and a glass of iced tea to his leather armchair. He began to eat his belated supper, not tasting a single bite.

If nothing else, he would keep Steph safe.

The next day, when Hal walked into Granny Annie’s for lunch, he almost turned right around without even pausing for a drink. Just inside the door, he came face-to-face with Ed Townsend, the other contender for his job in the upcoming election.

The freshly minted lawyer had been giving Hal headaches with his legalese-laced diatribes, and Hal preferred to avoid meeting the man in public places. Ed never missed a chance to attack Hal.

“Well, hello there, Sheriff!” the red-haired lawyer cried in an overly hearty voice. “Had yourself a busy couple of days lately, I hear. I’m sure a law-and-order man like yourself has the culprits behind bars by now, right? Has Miss Scott’s mugger been assigned a public defender? How about the vandal? Our Constitution does provide him with the right to legal representation, and everyone does have the right to due process, you know.”

Hal fought the urge to grind his teeth—or grind Ed’s teeth with five itching knuckles. “We’re taking care of the matter, Ed. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Still taking care of the matter?” The lawyer’s reddish mustache wriggled with ill-concealed glee. “You mean we still have a mugger loose in town?”

With a quick glance around the diner, Hal verified that every ear, if not eye, was glued to the conversation. “Sorry to deny you the pleasure,” he told Ed. “But you know I can’t discuss the particulars of an ongoing investigation. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to order some lunch.”

Ed opened his arms wide and spun to glance at everyone in the diner. “There you have it, folks. Your sheriff at his best. Lunch at Granny Annie’s takes priority to investigating crime. You know who to vote for, who’ll keep you safe.” He winked at Hal. “See ya in the voting booth in November.”

As Ed sauntered out and Hal’s cheeks sizzled, Granny Annie barged through the swinging doors to the kitchen. “What’s the matter with that Townsend boy? He gets hisself a fancy paper from that there Duke University Law School, and he thinks he can go around blabbin’ nonsense all day long.”

Had there been any way to do so without ruining every last chance of winning reelection, Hal would have slunk right out of the diner. Public humiliation was not a meal a man swallowed easily.

And he didn’t need five-foot-nothing Granny Annie to defend him. She might, however, make a spectacular campaign manager.

Then Mr. Cooper, the postmaster, stood up, slapped a bill into Granny’s hand and shook his head. “That, folks, is why none of us is fool enough to vote for Ed.”

Although it wasn’t unanimous, Hal counted more nods than not. There was no way he could leave his county to Ed’s questionable mercies. It was rumored the lawyer saw the sheriff’s spot as a rung up the political ladder and nothing more. What kind of commitment was that? What kind of service would Ed provide?

Maybe he really should enlist Granny’s help. She was the county’s most efficient means of information proliferation, and he could stand all the positive talking-up he could get. In that regard, Granny might be an asset.

Then again, maybe not. She was also a dyed-in-the-wool matchmaker who made no secret she wanted nothing more than to find a match for Hal.

His cell phone rang. The LCD display showed his new deputy Patsy’s number. He flicked it open, fully aware that, as comforting as her staunch support was, he couldn’t let Granny’s antics distract him. He had real crime to deal with.

He had Steph to protect.

And his job to save.

THREE

On Thursday, Steph noticed a significant increase in browser traffic through the store. At first, it irritated her. Then it amused her—after all, how many neighbors were going to miss the chance to check out the notorious blood pressure cuff boxes? On the other hand, she did wonder if they were just curious or if they expected to find a twenty sticking out of another box.

Darcy stopped by while on an errand for Miss Tabitha. “You’re the talk of the town, girl!” She punctuated her words with a bubble-gum pop.

“Tell me about it.”

“Don’t knock it,” Darcy said, chewing away. “Think of the increased cha-ching! Your bank account will love the craziness of it all.”

“Give me normalcy—please.”

With a laugh, Darcy left. The constant flow of looky-loos continued.

Even Chad Adams hung around for an eternity after making his delivery—at least, he hung around long enough to locate the case of insulin syringes they had marked as missing from the delivery. Surprise, surprise! It turned up in his truck. At two o’clock Steph found him still wandering the aisles, a second bag of licorice in hand.

Chad could always use an extra twenty. The postmaster’s younger brother-in-law had a streak of failed ventures under his belt and a list of worthless patents to his name. Mr. Cooper often complained about Chad’s mooching ways.

At a quarter to four, Jimmy came up to the pharmacy counter to complain about the many times in the forty-five minutes since he’d come to work he’d had to mop the entry because of all the muddy footprints. Steph gave in to the inevitable. She laughed.

“Let it go for a while,” she told the teen. “We’re today’s talk of the town. They’re going to keep coming, so you may as well wait until later to clean up the mess. Just be glad it’s no longer raining. The mud will dry up out there soon enough.”

The boy shrugged. “If you say so. I just hope nobody trips and falls checking out those boxes.”

“Tell you what,” she said. “I have a new mat in the back room. Why don’t you bring it out? At least we can offer a dry one to any customer who comes in between now and closing time.”

Jimmy trudged off, muttering something about the waste of a perfectly good mat.

Mat or no mat, Steph kept a close eye on everyone who wandered through the store. It took some work, but she refused to let down her guard. She would do whatever it took to protect the business for which she’d worked so hard. She wasn’t going to let some petty vandal or back-alley mugger damage her professional image. She would not let a criminal intimidate her.

For the first time in the five years since she’d opened the store, Steph felt stressed. It usually didn’t matter how busy she was; what mattered was serving her customers. But with all the gawkers who’d streamed in that day, Steph just wanted the clock’s hands to move a little faster.

And for the town of Loganton to find a new fixation.

On Friday at a quarter to six, after another day of town curiosity, the bell on the door clanged yet again. When Steph glanced up from the prescription she’d been filling, her gaze snagged on Hal Benson’s warm brown eyes. He took his time walking through the store, strolling up and down the aisles, checking out the items on the shelves.

“Need anything you can’t find?” she asked when he reached her counter.

“Just getting acquainted with the areas I don’t frequent. And I wanted to see where you keep your blood pressure cuffs.”

Steph capped the orange pill bottle and stuck the computerized label in place before looking back up. “You do realize the cuff’s only the last item damaged in a rash of six.”

“Tell me about the damaged items. And what the damage looked like.”

“We can start with the box of tissues. The glued flaps on one side of the box had been sliced open—neatly and with some sharp object. A knife, probably. It couldn’t have happened during shipping. It was no accident. On the other hand, the tissues themselves were crumpled and some even torn.”

“What do you mean by crumpled?”

“That was the strangest part. The flaps hung open outward, but the tissues were smashed inward.”

“Pushed in.”

“That’s right.”

“What else?”

Steph caught a glimpse of the clock on the pharmacy wall. “Tell you what, Sheriff—”

“If you’re just Steph, then I’m just Hal.”

She smiled, remembering his shyness the night before. “Okay, Hal. It’s almost six, and I need to close the store. If you’ll give me a few minutes so I can focus on the details, then I’ll tell you everything I remember.”

“That’ll work.”

As Steph picked up her ledger, she noticed the intent expression on the sheriff’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? No, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking…since you still have work to do here, how about you finish up, and then, maybe…well, if you don’t have anything else going on, maybe we can stop at Granny Annie’s—for a cup of coffee, you know? You can tell me all about the other damaged items then.”

Had he just asked her out on a strange kind of date? Or was the sheriff so shy he couldn’t even ask a woman to discuss evidence over a cup of coffee at Granny Annie’s Diner?

“Sounds great,” she said. “And just the thought of a slice of one of Granny’s pies is enough to spur me through my routine.”

His relief was almost palpable. “Terrific! You don’t mind if I wait here for you, do you? I don’t want you to have to go out into the alley alone. You never know if the mugger might come back.”

Steph shuddered. She hadn’t thought about that. But now that Hal had mentioned the alley, she didn’t like the idea of going outside, in the dark, by herself. “I don’t mind. On the contrary, I appreciate your offer. I won’t be long. I just have to double-check the prescriptions I filled today to keep track of what goes out.”

“You can’t be too careful about that kind of thing.”

“That’s what I think.”

She eased away from the counter, matched the day’s spreadsheet on her computer screen to the list in the ledger, counted the empty pill bottles in their bin, checked that number against yesterday’s count and smiled when the numbers added up. Most pharmacists wouldn’t go through so much trouble, but she always feared a distraction during her busy day might rouse her ADD and lead to a mistake.

With one tug, the grate over the pharmacy-counter window clanged into place, and once she’d locked it, Steph ducked down to pick up the deposit pouch from under her desk. Moments later, it bulged with the cash, checks and credit slips she cleared from the register tray. Her evening routine had become so automatic to her that she sometimes had to stop herself and think through all the steps to make sure she’d done everything before she walked away.

Sweater and purse in hand, she locked up. “I’m done.”

And there he was, standing in the small hallway that led to the back door. Once again, it struck Steph how tall he was. Lean and lanky, Hal Benson had to stand at least six foot three inches tall. And he looked hewn from taut, ropy muscle, too. There was something very comforting about his size and quiet, serious demeanor. It didn’t hurt that Hal’s craggy features reminded her of the heroes in the classic Western movies she’d watched growing up.

When he took her elbow to guide her out the door, Steph felt safe and protected. “Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For realizing I’d be scared well before it occurred to me.”

As she opened the back door, he reached over her head to hold it open for her. “I suspect you would have been fine. Don’t forget. The mugger didn’t try to get inside last night. But since things seem quiet around the county tonight, and I do want to know what you remember about the other incidents of vandalism…” He shrugged.

The sheriff waited until she’d started her car before he headed toward his cruiser. The drive to Granny Annie’s didn’t take long, for which Steph was thankful, since she didn’t want to analyze her feelings about their maybe date, maybe interrogation outing to Loganton’s gossip hub. By tomorrow morning, everyone in town would know she’d had coffee with the single and attractive county sheriff.

Half would insist they were Loganton’s latest version of Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming, the other half that she was headed for jail.

Steph pulled into the parking lot behind the diner. She threw on her sweater, since the weather had grown considerably chillier when the sun began to slide down to the horizon, and then hurried toward the diner’s door.

Halfway there, a sound startled her. She stopped, listened, eyes flicking from corner to corner, to her car, the street out front, the back door of the diner. She saw no one anywhere near. Her stomach muscles tightened. Had those been footsteps she’d heard? Had Hal arrived?

Even though she strained to hear, she only managed to pick up the hiss of the fall breeze through the trees on Main Street. And the galloping beat of her heart. For a moment, she felt discouraged. Nervousness had never been a problem, and Steph resented what the mugger had done to her. The thought of spending the rest of her life with an ear cocked to potential and possibly imagined danger held no appeal. She wanted her peaceful life back. That peace was one of the reasons she’d come home to Loganton after earning her pharmacy license.

She took a step toward the diner, hesitated, unsure of what to do. Should she go in and get a booth, or should she wait for Hal? If she waited, aside from freezing, would she also make herself bait for the mugger? Had there been someone out here following her? Or had her mind started to play tricks on her?

A car turned the corner. Relief flooded her when she caught sight of the county seal on the driver door: the sheriff’s cruiser. Steph exhaled as she ran up the diner’s front steps.

Inside the fragrant eatery, she went straight for the last empty booth, smiling a greeting to everyone who called out a hello. A glance out the window as she slid all the way in on the slick vinyl showed Hal striding toward the diner, that confident pace of his eating up the distance. More greetings rang out when he walked in.

“Can you believe this weather? First a monsoon, and now it’s fit to freeze off your cat’s whiskers,” Granny Annie called out from behind the counter. “Karla, girl! Get Miss Steph and the sheriff some hot coffee. We gotta warm ’em up quick. It’s cold and getting colder out there tonight.”

The sassy senior ducked out of sight then popped back up. She stared out the front windows and shook her head. “Can you believe it’s only six thirty?” she asked. “It’s getting dark so early…it looks more like nine or ten o’clock.”

Hal tapped his uniform hat against the side of the table to dislodge the drops beaded on its surface. He darted a glance at Steph. “My stomach’s very accurate clock says it’s just about supper time. Want to join me? For more than just coffee, I mean.”

The scent of roasted meat, stewed tomatoes and something cinnamony for dessert proved a temptation Steph didn’t bother to resist. Moments later, when Karla skidded a pair of stoneware mugs full of steaming java across their table, she asked the young waitress, “What does Granny have tonight?”

Karla cocked a hip and pulled the pencil out from its perch behind her ear. “She’s got meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, buttered corn and biscuits, and the other choice is chicken-fried steak with cream gravy, hash brown casserole, stewed tomatoes and corn bread.”

Steph’s mouth watered. “Bring me the steak, please.”

“I’ll have the meat loaf,” Hal said.

“And a side of cholesterol meds in our future,” Steph added with a grin when Karla had sauntered off. “But every once in a while, you just have to go for the comfort food. Tonight’s the perfect night for it.”

The sheriff’s warm gaze paused on her face. “After what you went through the past two days, I’m not surprised you’re looking for comfort.”

Steph studied the foil lid on the tiny container of cream. “I’ll admit it’s rattled me. I went right to bed after you left last night.”

The sheriff frowned as he whipped a notepad and pen from his uniform pocket. “Let’s get to work then. I want this guy off my streets.”

Hal listened as Steph described the damaged goods. Every so often, he wrote down a detail, his attention on her every word. She described the tissue box again, the box of disposable diapers, the boxed twelve-pack of nutritional supplement shakes, the vaporizer box and the box of cotton balls.

“As far as I can tell,” she said when she couldn’t think of anything else, “the only thing those items have in common is that they all came packed in cardboard boxes and were carefully cut.”

The sheriff took a swig of his black coffee. “I noticed that. Now I just have to figure out how all those boxes relate to each other.”

Karla arrived with a heavy tray with two platter-size plates just as overloaded. The mountain of hash browns laced with cheddar and sour cream on Steph’s dish gave off tendrils of steam. Creamy gravy dotted with pepper flakes dressed the battered and deep-fried steak. The side bowl of tangy stewed tomatoes had Steph reaching for her napkin then spreading it over her lap.

She laced her hands over the napkin, prayed silently and was pleased to hear Hal say, “Amen.”

They looked up and their gazes held. He smiled. “Don’t let it get cold. Granny’s meals are best when they’re hot.”

“Hey, Sheriff!” Granny Annie called. “It’s about time you didn’t come eat your supper alone. Make a habit of it, you hear?”

With her fork a mere inch from her mouth, Steph stole a glance at her dining companion. Just like last night and earlier today in the store, a hint of a blush reddened his cheeks. For some reason, that small detail endeared the serious sheriff to her.

“One of these days,” he muttered, “she’ll learn the meaning of tact.”

Steph chuckled. “Don’t count on it. She’s been embarrassing folks in Loganton for a generation or two.”

His sheepish grin only made her laugh again. It was the first time she’d laughed since the senior citizens had left Scott’s the day before. It felt great.

Hal leaned closer. “Let’s eat before she comes out here and pulls our ears,” he said in a loud stage whisper.

Twenty minutes later, Steph put down the dessert spoon as she savored the last mouthful of peach cobbler. She leaned back, stuffed but satisfied. “I just remembered why I don’t eat like this too often.”

“Unfortunately, I do. One of these days, I’m going to get around to cracking open the covers of that cookbook I bought last summer after I moved into the house. I have to learn to cook. I’ll miss Granny Annie’s meals, but my health sure won’t—”

The crackle of a walkie-talkie cut off his words. “Sheriff Hal?” a woman’s soprano asked.

Hal brought the black device up to his mouth. “What’s up?”

“I know you’re on a break, and you’re probably having dinner, but we just got a DUI out on the old River Run Road. Sounds pretty bad. Will called in and asked for backup.”

“Got it. I’m on my way.”

“10-4, Sheriff. And thanks.”

Hal slid out of the booth, then reached for his wallet. “I’m sorry. Duty calls. Please stay and enjoy another cup of Granny’s coffee on me.”

She shook her head and followed him, unwilling to linger without him. Before Steph’s fingers unzipped her purse, Hal had dropped a couple of bills on the counter by the register. “Keep the change, Karla. Put it toward college.”

The teen grinned, rang them up and handed Hal a receipt.

“Thanks,” Steph said as they reached the door. So it had been part date, part interrogation, as she’d thought. “Don’t apologize. I understand. Besides, I didn’t sleep well last night. I hope to do better tonight.”

He opened the door. “Keep your cell phone close.”

Steph pulled her sweater tight across her chest. “I kept it under my pillow last night, and I plan to do the same until…well, you understand.”

As she splashed to her car, she thanked the Lord for Hal’s company and his heavy steps behind her. This time, Steph didn’t have to wonder. She wasn’t alone, and she knew as long as Hal was around he’d keep her safe.

At home, she knew she could count on the Lord.

On Saturday morning, when the rain and the damp chill were only memories, Steph sang along to a Mercy Me CD in the car’s stereo on her way to work. She parked at her normal spot in the parking lot across the alley then opened up the store. Jimmy was waiting at the front door.

“’Morning, Miss Steph. No more mopping, huh?”

“Not today,” she called over her shoulder on her way to open the pharmacy itself. “As long as you sweep in front of the door, we’ll be fine.”

Then she reached the white-painted steel door. The open white pharmacy door. Steph stared in disbelief.

She remembered locking up the night before. That’s when she’d turned and nearly bumped into Hal. She had closed and locked that door.

Hadn’t she?

A chill ran through her. A vise of tension wound itself around her head. Her heart beat louder, and her breath came in short spurts. Nausea seared up her chest and into her throat.

“Easy,” she murmured. No reason to freak out. Not yet.

Careful not to let her fingers touch anything, Steph kneed the door ajar. She slipped inside and headed for the cabinet where she kept the narcotics behind yet another lock. But before she got there, she caught sight of the empty shelf against the back wall.

The pseudoephedrine was gone. Her worst nightmare had come to pass. The thief was making meth.

Steph reached for her cell phone and dialed 911.

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