In His Sights. Justine Davis

came later.

      Kate began to sort the cargo manifests. As she organized them, part of her mind was still, as it had been since the start of this trouble, occupied with trying to solve the riddle of the thefts.

      “Kate? Oh, she’s a good one,” the grocer said with a smile. “Not many who’d leave a big career like she had and come home to take care of her grandparents when they started having health problems.”

      “Is that why she did it?” Rand had dropped by to thank the man for pointing him toward the Crawford’s room for rent, and had grabbed the chance to pump him a bit, since he seemed more than willing to talk.

      “Well, she’ll tell you she got homesick, didn’t like the big-city life.”

      “Some don’t,” Rand said neutrally, even as he was thinking that going from Denver to this small town would be more than a major adjustment.

      “I know I couldn’t take it,” the man behind the counter agreed, his tone a bit fervent. “Lived over in Seattle for a while, and even that about made me crazy.”

      “But you don’t think that’s Kate’s real reason?” Rand gently nudged the conversation back in the direction he needed.

      “Well, it may be true she didn’t like the city, but the real reason is she loves her grandparents and knows they need her now.”

      Well, that’s noble, I guess, Rand thought. Too noble to be believed?

      He didn’t know.

      “So, she wasn’t running away from any trouble or anything?”

      The grocer’s expression suddenly changed. His eyes narrowed, all trace of the warm, small-town welcome vanished now. “Kate’s not the kind to run from trouble, if she were the kind to get into trouble in the first place.”

      Rand knew immediately he’d made a mistake. Hastily, he backpedaled. “It just seemed she was a bit edgy, when I met her. I didn’t want to make it worse by saying something out of ignorance.”

      “Oh. Well. Then.”

      The man stopped short of an actual apology, but his demeanor quickly shifted back to the genial storekeeper.

      Hmm, Rand thought as he purchased a soda and departed.

      His next stop was the only other establishment of any size in town, a carries-everything hardware store. He got much the same reaction there; open friendliness, liking for Kate Crawford and an instant withdrawal behind a screen of seeming protectiveness at the slightest suggestion she was anything less than a beloved local girl who made good and then came home.

      It was the same everywhere, although admittedly the options were few; the small drugstore, the smaller post office, the yet smaller soup and sandwich café. He even braced himself and stepped into a shop labeled Curl and Cut, which smelled of some hair chemical that made his eyes water. He covered his presence by saying he would be staying in Summer Harbor for a while and wanted to know if they cut men’s hair.

      “For you, honey, you bet,” the matronly blond woman wearing a black plastic apron said with a wink so broad he couldn’t keep from grinning back at her. “I’d love to get my hands into that hair. I’m Esther.”

      “Hi, Esther. I’m Rand. I’m renting a room at the Crawford’s.”

      The woman’s smile became even broader. “Oh, that’s good. I know they were looking to do that. They’re good people, they’ll take care of you.”

      He hesitated, aware of several women in the place, in various stages of what looked like strange and exotic treatments, then plunged ahead. “I like them. I don’t think their granddaughter likes me, though.”

      “Kate? Now that’s odd, she likes most people. She’s the sweetest girl. Glad she’s back here where she belongs, especially after what she’s been through. Whatever made you think she didn’t like you?”

      He decided on the concerned approach this time. “She’s not in any trouble, is she? Is that why she’s a bit edgy?”

      “Kate, in trouble? Not likely,” the woman replied, complete certainty in her tone. “If she’s edgy, it’s because she’s worried. Her grandparents have had some money trouble, and they’re not getting any younger, so their health is on her mind.”

      “Well,” Rand amended, “maybe it wasn’t just me, but the whole idea of me renting a room from her grandparents.”

      “Well, that could be. She’s very protective of them. But I’d think she’d be glad to see a handsome, eligible young man around.” The woman waggled an eyebrow at him. “You are eligible, aren’t you?”

      “For several things,” Rand said.

      She laughed. “Oh, Kate’ll like you, all right. She’s got a weakness for wit.”

      He smiled and thanked the woman, then turned to escape from the chemical smell and the interested gazes of the other women. He wondered if he’d be a topic at several dinner tables in Summer Harbor tonight. This small-town stuff was going to take some getting used to. He’d dealt with it in villages around the world, but somehow he’d never come up against it here at home.

      Is anyone that perfect? he wondered as he got back in the small SUV he’d rented for the duration. Did everybody in this town think Kate Crawford walked on water?

      It wasn’t until he got to the single gas station to fill up that he got his answer to that.

      “Oh, you mean Miss-too-good-for-the-likes-of-us?” The man in the grease-stained overalls, with the patch reading Scott, wiped his hands across his chest, depositing even more grease.

      Rand’s radar flipped into search mode. The man had wandered out from the garage when he’d pulled up to the pumps, as if he’d been waiting for someone to come in. After listening to him gripe about the weather and the people who complained about the price of gas, Rand had steered the man to the topic he wanted. And had gotten the first negative comment in town about Kate Crawford.

      “Came back from the east a little snooty, did she?” he asked casually, keeping his eyes on the pump nozzle but also watching Scott out of the corner of his eye.

      The man snickered. “It’s those Redstone people, they think they own the world.”

      Whoa, Rand thought. Where’d that come from?

      Scott sniffed audibly. “What’s that? Smells like ammonia or something.”

      “It’s probably me,” Rand said, ruefully amazed it was still discernable over the gasoline fumes. “I stuck my nose in the Curl and Cut for directions.”

      Scott picked at a greasy fingernail as he laughed. “That’ll teach you. You can smell that Esther coming for miles. Good thing, since she insists on butting into everybody else’s business. Old hen.”

      A small Japanese sedan went by, stereo booming out bass so loud it shook the metal price sign out at the curb.

      “Damn kids,” Scott snarled. “Think everybody wants to listen to their crap.”

      “It was loud,” Rand agreed mildly.

      “Call that music, too. Stupid idiots. They’re as bad as those high-falutin’ classical snobs, with all that music by dead guys.”

      Ah, Rand thought. I get it now. It wasn’t Kate or Redstone in particular, this guy just hates the world. Guess there’s one in every town, even one this small.

      He paid for his gas and pulled out of the station. Tank now full, he decided to explore a little, get the lay of the land, particularly around Redstone. As he drove, he thought about something Esther of the Curl and Cut—or was it Cut and Curl?—had said.

      Glad she’s back here where she belongs…

      That seemed to be the consensus around here. Kate Crawford may have left Summer Harbor,