LITMIR.BIZ

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She said she would get over to the store and shut off the alarm right away.”

      “Thanks, Janet.”

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

      “Not here.”

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

      “Sit,” he said. “Please.”

      Too exhausted to protest, Kristen dropped into a chair.

      How had her life gone so wrong?

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

      And now this new humiliation.

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

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

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

      “I’ve never seen you around town.”

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

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

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

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

      “Kristen Lange.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      “So you’re living with Margaret.”

      “Temporarily.”

      “Working for her.”

      “Temporarily.”

      “Not married?”

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

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

      “I was wondering why you’re living with your aunt.”

      “What business is that of yours?”

      “Just trying to get all the facts, ma’am.”

      Kristen sat back in her chair and fell silent. Now that she was able to see him clearly in the light, she realized he was a good-looking man, probably in his early thirties. He had dark hair, gray eyes, a slight cleft in his chin and a smile that would be nice if it wasn’t plastered sarcastically on his face.

      Was it her imagination, or was Police Chief Alex Novak being just a little too personal here?

      Her gaze went to his left hand—no ring—and then back to his speculative expression. He knew her aunt. He knew her sister. He knew her brother. So let me go home, already.

      “Are you going to arrest me or not?”

      “That all depends.”

      “On what?”

      “On whether Margaret Becker will vouch for you.” He looked beyond her. “And there she is now.”

      “Aunt Margaret?”

      Kristen twisted around in her seat and saw her aunt at the front desk, talking to the woman named Janet. Still dressed in what Kristen thought of as satin lounging pajamas, Aunt Margaret had merely put on a pair of sandals and thrown a light wrap around her shoulders for modesty before leaving the house. Neither Janet nor the officers who greeted her before going out the door seemed to think her manner of dress unusual.

      Suddenly, Aunt Margaret marched toward the police chief’s office, her face set in a frown. To Kristen’s great relief, she saw the purse she’d left in the store in her aunt’s hands. Also to her relief, her aunt looked fine, not sick, after all.

      “Alex, what is going on?” Margaret shifted her attention to Kristen. “Hello, honey.” She handed over Kristen’s purse. “What a terrible thing to have happen on your first day working for me.”

      “So, this is your niece?”

      “Of course she is, Alex. Who else would she be? Can’t you see the resemblance?”

      Kristen smothered a smile. If there ever had been a resemblance between them, her aunt’s spiked red hair and penchant for bright colors like the orange-and-teal print of the pajamas she was wearing kind of smothered it.

      To her irritation, although he was wearing a straight face, Alex said, “Yes, of course, Margaret. Your niece looks just like you.”

      Aunt Margaret beamed. “Well, we’re going to be off now. Time to get some sleep. Come on, Kristen, I’ll drive you back to your car.”

      “Hey, wait a minute—”

      Aunt Margaret stopped dead in her tracks, narrowed her gaze on the police chief and added a slight chill to her tone. “Wait for what, Alex? You don’t have a problem with my niece, do you?”

      “Uh, no, of course not.”

      “Good. Then we’ll see you later.”

      If Kristen wasn’t so tired, she would have laughed at the frustration on Alex Novak’s face. Whatever he’d been maneuvering for, he was disappointed.

      That thought made her feel just a little better after he’d added more stress to her already disastrous evening.

      * * *

      “YOU’LL FEEL BETTER after you have something to eat,” Aunt Margaret promised as they entered the house through the kitchen entrance.

      Kristen wasn’t so sure of that. Trying to deal with the police chief on top of her awful first day at the store had stressed her out enough for a month. “Maybe I should just go to bed.”

      Her aunt was already in the refrigerator. “Never go to bed hungry. Have a little something.” She pulled out a covered container. “Macaroni and cheese?”

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