LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Tomorrow at nine o’clock.”

      “See you then.” He completed his exit through the door.

      She watched him make his way down the steps and disappear into the darkness on the beach. Suddenly she felt drained—tired from running for her life, running from Will, and exhausted from her struggle with a friendly intruder.

      What an oxymoron.

      Long after Jesse left that night, Casey lay in bed, staring at a late-night talk show on the muted television while she held the phone to her ear. She’d left a message with Aunt Leann about the friendly but brusque intruder, then spent a few minutes writing in her diary. She’d kept a diary for years. All of her deepest feelings were poured onto its pages, including thoughts about everyone she knew. When she’d fled Portland, her diary had been among the most important items to grab. Journaling kept her centered, giving her the ability to laugh when life threw her the unexpected. Maybe one day she could read back over the events of the last few months and laugh.

      No. She doubted she’d ever laugh about this.

      Then, she’d jammed the book beneath a pillow and called Meg because she couldn’t bear to be alone tonight.

      “Thanks for staying on the line with me, Meg. I think I’m finally getting sleepy.”

      “I’m glad you called. I was getting worried. But … I want to hear more about this Jesse guy. He really just barged into the place and tackled a guy with a gun? Who would do that?”

       A hero, that’s who.

      Meg wanted Casey to focus on something positive so she could get some sleep, Casey knew that. She pointed the controller at the television and shut it off then snuggled deeper into the soft, quilted blankets.

      Funny, earlier in the day she’d wanted to call Meg to tell her about the strange vibes she’d gotten from Jesse while at her uncle’s company—how suspicious she’d been of him. She’d wanted to hear if Meg thought Casey was overreacting, given all she’d been through.

      Now she considered Jesse one of the good guys, and she didn’t need Meg’s opinion to believe it.

      But did that really matter when Will Tannin was out there, waiting and watching for his chance to kill her? Despite the distance she’d put between her and Tannin, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t lost him.

      It was well after eleven-thirty when Jesse felt comfortable releasing his watch over the house where Casey was hopefully sleeping. After checking the house—looking for any places that an intruder could easily enter or had already entered —Jesse had said good-night and instructed her to arm the security system.

      Though Spear claimed he wasn’t an intruder, the incident had shaken Casey and, Jesse hated to admit, it had shaken him. He’d given a show of jogging down the beach but returned moments later to watch for signs of danger.

      In the meantime, he sent the image he’d taken of Spear to the others working the case to be analyzed. He’d know soon enough if tonight’s mishap had been just that … a case of mistaken identity. And a case in which Spear had been abusive in his handling of Helms’s niece. Jesse sensed in his gut there was more going on here.

      He tugged the thumb drive from his pocket—the item he’d seen slip from Spear’s pocket. He intended to find out what was on it. Spear would soon discover he’d lost the item and if he had any sense, he’d suspect that it occurred during his scuffle with Jesse.

      Jesse feared Spear would return to the house to search for the missing item. What Jesse didn’t know was the man’s mood if he came back—would he knock on the door, knowing Casey was there, or would his handling of her be gruff again?

      Right off, he didn’t think he would like the guy even if he hadn’t been pointing a nine-millimeter at Casey.

      Casey opened her eyes and stretched out on the soft mattress—one of the best she’d ever slept on.

      Oh, no. What time was it?

      Blurry-eyed, she sat straight up and stared at the clock on the bedside table. Did that read nine o’clock?

      Tossing the blankets off, Casey hurried to the bathroom to shower and dress. She had her interview with Jesse this morning and now she was late. She’d never overslept like this. But the last few days had been harrowing, and she hadn’t given herself much time to regroup.

      It was too late for a few days of rest now. She had a job, or was close to having one.

      Dressed and as ready to face the day as she would be, Casey backed her car from the driveway, planning to grab a cup of coffee on the way to the Helms Ice and Trucking Company where she’d interview Jesse. Her heart did a quick flip at the idea of seeing him again.

      Pathetic.

      Her car struggled to climb the hill as she whipped around a curve in the road that skirted a sea-cliff viewpoint. Steering with her left hand, she called the Orange Crossings Times on her phone with her right and, careful to watch the road, too, she punched in the editor’s extension.

      To her surprise, Danny Garcia picked up on the first ring.

      “Danny here.”

      “Mr. Garcia, hi, this is Casey Wilkes, aka Carson Williams. I got that story you wanted.”

      “Oh, yeah? Which one was that?”

      Casey held on to her smile, despite his discouraging tone.

      “I’m headed over to interview Jesse Dufour, the ice sculptor at Helms Ice. So, do I have the job, then?”

      Casey’s car lurched out of control and she dropped her cell to grip the wheel.

      What in the world?

      The VW was nearly impossible to control. A car honked as it passed her on Shoreline Road.

      Casey slowed the car, though steering was difficult, and managed to prod it onto the shoulder, though not completely.

      She hopped out to investigate the damage. About a quarter of the car was still on the road. Too bad. With the crags hedging the beach next to the road and her inability to perfectly control the car, she didn’t feel comfortable trying to move it completely off the road.

      But on this side, she saw nothing wrong.

      She stomped around to the other side.

      A blowout.

       Of all the …

      Hands on her hips, she turned her gaze from the tire and her precarious position on the road and scanned the shoreline, watching the waves as they lapped the beach. The day had started wrong, all wrong.

      Opening the passenger door, Casey scrounged around the small car looking for her cell that she’d dropped mid-conversation with Danny.

      She found it and held it to her ear. “You still there?”

      Silence. Casey called him again, but the line was busy. Next, she called Jesse’s number, thankful he’d thought to give it to her, and that she’d stored it in her phone.

      That he’d been that protective and concerned for her seemed a little strange at first. But with the likes of Tannin after her, Casey could use a dose of protective behavior from a man, so she had welcomed it. Last night, he’d single-handedly doused her suspicious first impression of him.

      She was happy to nix any further thoughts on the matter, considering she had enough trouble already.

      “Casey, where are you?” Jesse said, skipping right over the normal greeting.

      Casey heard a note of alarm in his voice and wanted to dispel his concern. “I’ve got a flat tire. Hope that doesn’t inconvenience you. Can you wait for me?”

      She left out that she was already running late when she woke up this morning.

      “I’ll

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