Suspicion. Ginny Aiken

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