LITMIR.BIZ

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of Baxters. It reminded Ellie of her own mother’s house.

      “I don’t want to impose,” she told the other woman. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I cut through your house, just to get out of the cold for a while.”

      Mrs. Baxter ushered her into a large kitchen. The round table was covered with a variety of tins, partially filled with delicious-smelling goodies.

      “Gifts,” she explained as she wiped her hands on the front of her well-worn apron. “With Mr. Baxter’s surgery this year, I’m a little behind on my baking.”

      “I’m sure your family will understand.”

      “These aren’t for family,” she said. “I send a little something to the ladies I used to work with.”

      Ellie took in a deep breath. Listening to Mrs. Baxter, being in this kitchen, was almost enough to make her forget the horrible image of Josh on the sofa.

      “Have you been retired long?”

      Mrs. Baxter placed her hands on her ample hips and nodded. “It was way back during the war. We all worked at the base, assembling military equipment for the boys in Europe.”

      “You were like Rosie the Riveter?” Ellie asked.

      “You bet,” Mrs. Baxter answered. There was a definite pride in her wistful expression. “Worked eight-, sometimes ten-hour shifts. By the time Mr. Baxter came home, I had enough saved to buy this house.”

      “What a great story,” Ellie said.

      In response to a chime from the stove, Mrs. Baxter donned padded mitts and turned her attention to the oven. “It was different back then,” she said. “We women didn’t have as many choices as you gals do today, but at least we had security. We knew that when we got married, it would be till the death. My one son is on his third wife. Doesn’t have a clue what the word commitment means.”

      “I know the type,” Ellie lamented as she carefully sat on the edge of one of the chairs, trying not to get the cushion wet.

      “I take it you aren’t married?”

      “No.”

      “Do you want to be?”

      Ellie smiled at the woman’s candor. “Yes. I’m just afraid I’ll choose the wrong guy. So far, I have a track record of nothing but losers. Sometimes I think I’m wearing some sort of invisible sign that only jerks can see—Date Her, She’s Desperate.”

      Mrs. Baxter’s laugh was soft and very reassuring. It reminded Ellie so much of her own mother’s laugh that she felt a small pang of homesickness.

      “The right man will come along eventually. Patience, my dear.”

      “Will he be wearing a sign?” Ellie asked.

      “Most definitely.” Mrs. Baxter waved her spatula dramatically as she spoke. “I believe in fate,” she said, her expression distant and contented. “I knew the first time I laid eyes on Mr. Baxter that he was the man for me.”

      “Love at first sight?”

      “Hardly,” Mrs. Baxter snorted. “He was coming out of a club—one of those dance clubs we had in the old days—falling down drunk.”

      “And you fell in love?”

      “Actually, he fell on me.”

      Ellie smiled.

      “Even though he reeked of whiskey, one feel of those strong shoulders and I was gone.”

      The memory of Jake’s strong, muscled body flashed in her mind. Ellie shook her head, hoping to rid herself of such outrageous thoughts.

      “Well,” Ellie began as she rose slowly. “I had better be on my way. Shelby is probably frantic by now.”

      Mrs. Baxter went to the window, shoving back the dainty lace curtains before she said, “I think you’re a little late, my dear.”

      Ellie hurried to the window. Even in the shadows of early evening she had no trouble making out the insignia on the car parked in front of her brother and sister-in-law’s home.

      “Looks like she’s already called the police.”

      Closing her eyes for a brief second, Ellie sucked in a breath. Now what? she wondered. How am I going to talk my way out of this?

      “You’d best hurry along,” Mrs. Baxter was saying. “Shelby must be worried sick if she’s already alerted the authorities. I suppose it has something to do with what happened to poor little Chad a while back. Kidnapping is the sort of thing that stays with a mother always, you know. I guess it’s only natural for Shelby to react quickly when a family member is missing.”

      “I hadn’t thought of that,” Ellie admitted. Great, she silently castigated as she let herself out the back door. “I’ve left the scene of a murder,” she grumbled as she worked her way toward the house. “I’ve probably assisted a murderer in making his escape. And now I’ve probably scared Shelby half out of her mind. If the cops don’t kill me, Dylan absolutely will.”

      Every light in the house was on, which pretty much eliminated the possibility of sneaking in the back way. No, Ellie acknowledged as she shifted her handbag to the opposite shoulder, there was nothing to do but walk in the front door and hope she could explain her behavior in a calm, rational way.

      Sucking in a deep breath, she lifted the drenched hem of her skirt and gingerly maneuvered up the icy steps. She was frantically running various excuses through her mind when the door suddenly flew open.

      She was greeted by a pair of glaring green eyes. “Well it’s about damn time,” Rose yelled. “Shelby’s been frantic, especially since the cops arrived.”

      Ellie lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry she called the police,” she tried again.

      “Get in out of the cold,” Rose grumbled, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Ellie’s damp sweater. “And she didn’t call the cops. They showed up because of the murder.”

      Ellie, paralyzed by fear, looked into the hallway, fully expecting a whole battalion of officers to be waiting there, handcuffs dangling from their eager fingers.

      “Why are they here?” she asked.

      “Josh,” Rose answered, her voice softer and with just a trace of sadness.

      Ellie’s eyes darted into the living room. Spotting the two uniformed men with Shelby, she felt her heart pound urgently.

      As nonchalantly as possible, she positioned herself so that Rose stood between her and the officers. Placing her arm around the shorter woman, who was reciting the facts of the case, Ellie managed to get to the foot of the stairs without attracting the attention of the police.

      Leaving Rose with a saddened, slightly perturbed look on her face, Ellie dashed up the stairs. She raced past her nephew, who was sitting in the middle of his room, apparently playing with one of his small toys. Cushioning the sound of her footsteps, Ellie moved past her sleeping niece, into the guest room. Wasting no time, she peeled away the layers of wet clothing, balled them up and tossed them in the back of the closet. As a forensic scientist, she knew better then to leave the clothes in plain view. There was no way for her to know how many fibers or other trace elements she had picked up during her short stay in Josh’s apartment. She could dispose of them later, when the house wasn’t crawling with police.

      “Blast,” she cursed as she hopped and danced her way into her jeans. She cursed again when she heard the soft rapping at her door. “Just a second,” she called as she yanked a sweatshirt over her head.

      “The police want to talk to you,” Shelby said in that soft, feminine drawl.

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