LITMIR.BIZ

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      He reached into the till to pull out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to her. “Yes, it was. I enjoyed it, too. Let’s lock up.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      CORIE AND POLLY filled the dishwasher while Ben helped Hector turn chairs upside down on the tables to mop the floor. Hector told him how he’d gotten into the business, shown him pictures of his three boys and three girls and his wife, and said his daughters loved Corie because she helped them update their clothes to look new and fashionable. “When you’re a girl in school, that’s important,” he said. “And Corie has this gift with design.”

      Ben had taken it all in. This flair for fashion was something he hadn’t known about her. He wondered if Jack did.

      In the car on the way home he asked her about it.

      “I’ve always perked up my clothes by adding trim or parts of other pieces.”

      “Hector said his girls love what you do.”

      She smiled at that. “They’re appreciative because they don’t have a lot of money and there’s a certain satisfaction in dressing up something to make it look new again. Or even better.”

      “Jack never mentioned you designed clothing.”

      She shrugged. “It never came up. A couple of years ago I went to New York and got a job with a designer just starting out. I got good, practical experience, but he had a bad season and ran out of capital. My style wasn’t thrilling to more traditional designers, so when I couldn’t find another job in the field, I thought rather than waitress in New York, where living was so expensive, I may as well come home and work here so I can save to go back, and I could help Teresa while I was at it.”

      Ben pulled up in front of her house. “I hope you get to work in design again,” he said sincerely. He’d like knowing she was happily settled somewhere because it would make Jack happy. “Meanwhile,” he went on in the sudden quiet, “will you make me a cup of coffee and tell me the truth about the jewelry?”

      She let out an exaggerated breath. “Come on in.”

      In the dim light over the doorway he saw that the run-down little white house with red trim had probably once been a cozy home but was now badly in need of paint and a few homey touches. There was a little bit of lawn in front that someone was trying to maintain, but it was crowding out the short walkway and weeds were growing through the simple picket fence that surrounded it.

      A look of weariness had suddenly replaced the anger he’d grown used to seeing in Corie’s eyes, and she looked as though she belonged in this sad little place.

      Ben steeled himself against softness. Corie was pretty and fascinatingly fearless, but if she did have the jewels, she could be a danger to Jack and his brother had been through enough. Though she’d originally stolen the jewelry to sell it and buy the house and property Teresa rented to free her from the constant threat of eviction, the act was illegal.

      Jack was on his honeymoon in the California wine country right now, and his parents were partying with his bride’s family in Branson, Missouri. It was up to Ben to make sure the film of Corie’s appearance on the Tyree property—and what would look like his, Jack’s and Sarah’s complicity in the jewel theft—somehow disappeared. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

      He followed her inside the small living room. He and Jack and Sarah had spent the night on this floor the last time he was here. They’d felt it necessary to stay close until they had Corie safely on the plane with them, back to Oregon. Jack had insisted she go home with them to meet their family. After the theft and Jack’s sudden appearance in her life, she’d been emotional and trying hard to keep her distance. Afraid she’d run off, Jack, Ben and Sarah had stayed the night with Corie.

      He remembered the set of natural wicker furniture more appropriate to a patio than a living room; it looked feminine and had probably been more affordable than upholstered pieces. The cushions were a blue-and-white pattern, and mismatched coffee table and end tables and an old rocker made up the rest of the furnishings. A few floral prints on the walls brightened the space.

      She dropped her purse on the sofa. “I’ll get that coffee. Make yourself comfortable.”

      He sat on the rocker and looked out the window behind the wicker sofa at the dark, quiet street. Most of the homes in the neighborhood were a lot like hers, some a little nicer, some a lot less cared for. He knew this part of Texas was populated with low-income workers and probably a few illegals looking for a better life, with family on both sides of the border.

      That was probably why some members of the town government of Querida managed to operate the way they did, perpetrating crimes they continued to get away with. Everyone had secrets. No one wanted to talk.

      He thought if he could deal with being here, he might be able to do something about it. But this part of Texas was dusty and hot, and he missed the rivers and forests of home. His plan was to quit the force and open an investigative services business in Beggar’s Bay. He’d even half convinced Grady Nelson, his partner on the force, to join him part-time until he got the business under way.

      Corie returned with a steaming mug and placed it on a small table beside him.

      “Thank you,” he said as she went to sit on the sofa. She pulled out the pins and rubber band that held her hair up for work and made a sound of relief when it fell free in a rippled sheet. She massaged her scalp with her fingertips.

      “How come you don’t wilt in the heat?” he asked. “You wrestled a tree, worked a busy shift and did verbal battle with Pimental.” He sipped the coffee then rested the mug on one knee. “And you still have the energy to make my life difficult.”

      She met his grin with her own. “I’m part cactus. I almost froze to death in Beggar’s Bay. Fortunately, Sarah lent me a sweater she’d borrowed from your mom when she moved in with you and Jack after the fire in her apartment.”

      He nodded. “The red one.”

      She seemed surprised that he remembered the color. He’d noticed it because the red had been dramatic with her dark features.

      “About the jewelry...” he said, impatient with himself for letting her see that he’d been aware of her. He didn’t trust her but he’d have to be unconscious not to notice that she was beautiful. And a different woman when she was around those children. He took another sip of coffee. “Where is the jewelry?”

      * * *

      CORIE WISHED BEN PALMER would just go home. Life was difficult enough around here, trying to keep Teresa and the kids in their home and herself out of Pimental’s way. She didn’t need the annoyance of her brother’s brother. He reminded her of her childhood and everyone who dismissed her out of hand because she was that Ochoa brat from that awful family. He was clearly convinced that she was as bad as her legend.

      “I believe you sent the jewelry back to the Tyrees,” she said, her tone deliberately airy because he looked so grave and she enjoyed refusing to take him seriously. “In a priority-mail box. Your partner, Grady, mailed it from Seattle when he went to visit his girlfriend, so no one would know that you and Jack were involved.”

      “I never told you Grady mailed it.”

      “Jack did. After making a point of explaining to me that I couldn’t possibly move forward in my life with such a crime behind me.”

      He took exception to the subtle criticism of their brother in her reply and the suggestion that Jack was somehow unsympathetic. “Jack remembers the sweet little sister he lost all those years ago. He seems to be convinced that you’re the same person, and now his name could be compromised because Tyree has your burglary on tape. You might have a little more respect for all Jack’s been through to find you, and the fact that he risked himself that night to get you out of there.”

      She’d regretted her cavalier response the moment the words were

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