Killer Heat. Brenda Novak

she’d be too pleased. But he had to intercept her or she’d wake Francesca.

      “Why’d I have to come back to Arizona?” he grumbled, and met her at the door.

      At first, she didn’t notice him. She was preoccupied with fixing the lid on one of the drinks she carried. But when she glanced up to reach for the door handle and found it already open, with him standing there, her jaw dropped and so did the hand holding the cups in their cardboard container. The whipped mochas she’d brought would’ve spilled all over the stoop if he hadn’t grabbed them.

      “Jonah,” she breathed, and stepped back as if any kind of contact might burn her.

      “Adriana.” He offered her a smile but his effort to be friendly did little to calm her.

      She gave a shake of her head and self-consciously shoved the strands of hair that’d fallen from her messy ponytail back into place. Not only was she surprised, she didn’t like that he’d caught her at her worst. He knew because that was exactly how his sister would’ve reacted to the same situation.

      “I—I didn’t realize Francesca had company. But that’s okay. I can come back later,” she said, and left the drinks behind as she fled to her van.

      Jonah hadn’t meant to scare her off. But he let her go. Francesca needed to get some sleep. And he wasn’t eager to entertain Adriana on his own. He’d never expected to see her again. Francesca, either, for that matter.

      Francesca could call her later, he decided. The fact that Adriana’s picture was on the mantel and she could walk up to the house as casually as she had indicated the two were still friends. No thanks to him, of course. But that gave him one less thing to feel guilty about.

      His phone vibrated with another text message. “Damn it, Lori. When you ask someone for a favor, you’re not allowed to be so demanding.”

      He went inside to put down the cups so he could check his phone, but this time it wasn’t Lori. It was Investigator Finch.

      If you’re up, call me.

      Going into the laundry room, he closed the door so the sound of his voice wouldn’t carry to the bedroom and dialed Finch’s cell.

      It rang twice before transferring to voice mail.

      Jonah didn’t leave a message. He was about to redial when the lingerie on a small rack above the dryer caught his eye. A see-through lacy black bra and matching thong hung inches from his face. They had to belong to Francesca. But who was she wearing underwear like that for? The man in the D.C. photograph?

      The ringing of his phone dragged his attention away from the underwear. It was Finch. “What’s up?”

      “We’ve got a body on our hands. A real one this time.”

      He gripped the phone tighter. “What did you say?”

      “You heard me. Call came in less than five minutes ago. The owner of Skull Valley Chocolate and Handmade Gifts found a corpse slumped against her door when she arrived for work.”

      “No one else spotted it?”

      “This isn’t your usual downtown. It’s basically four corners with a handful of businesses that are spread out. Not a lot of people out here.”

      “I see. Is the victim a man or woman?”

      “Woman.”

      “Any chance she could’ve died of natural causes?”

      “Wishful thinking, Mr. Young? No. It’s a homicide.”

      “Do we have an ID?”

      “Body was naked, no purse or anything. The shop owner was so hysterical it was tough to get a description. I did get the color of hair. Brown. That’s not much, but it fits the gal Ms. Moretti’s been searching for.”

      The one Francesca thought Vaughn had killed. “April Bonner.”

      “That’s her.”

      “Are there any witnesses who can tell us what happened?”

      “None that I’ve heard about. It’s a ranching community, so not a highly populated area. There’s a general store and a gas station, a café, an auto repair shop. That’s it. But I’ll be able to tell you more once I get there. Are you coming yourself?”

      “I’m coming, but…I’m two hours away.”

      “I thought you had a motel here in Prescott.”

      “I’ll explain when I see you.”

      “Hurry,” he said.

      Jonah punched the end button and let himself out of the laundry room. Francesca had only been sleeping for two and a half hours. But he was confident that she’d want to visit the scene. In any case, he wasn’t going to leave her behind. The timing and placement of the body made him far too nervous that it was connected to the man who’d visited her last night.

      7

      Francesca rolled over to escape the hand that was shaking her shoulder, but the persistence of the person trying to wake her eventually pulled her through the dense fog of unconsciousness.

      “Hmm…what?” Opening her heavy eyelids, she blinked at the blurry face above her, recognized Jonah and smiled. He was so handsome. The strength of his arms and the warmth of his body made her eager for his touch, so eager that she took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. It’d been so long….

      Then she remembered what he’d done. They weren’t lovers anymore. They weren’t even friends.

      Pushing his hand away, she scrambled up against the headboard, out of reach, and tried to collect her muddled thoughts. The salvage yard. Jonah striding toward her. The mannequin. Investigator Finch’s anger. Butch by her pool. Those weren’t easy memories to confront but they were what reality had waiting for her. Rested or not, she had to deal with the situation she’d fallen into yesterday and find a way out before it was too late.

      “It’s time to wake up already?” she mumbled to cover her lapse in judgment.

      When he didn’t answer right away, she checked to see if he was gloating over that moment of weakness. But he didn’t seem to be. A stark expression appeared on his face—until he realized she was watching. Then the mask of indifference he’d worn ever since she’d learned about Adriana fell into place. “We’ve got work to do,” he said. “Do you need a shower?”

      “Shower?” She yawned. “Wasn’t it you who said I should sleep while I can?”

      “That was before Investigator Finch called to tell me there’s been another murder.”

      Those words dispelled her fatigue. “Do we know the victim?”

      “We don’t have a name yet. But, from the description, it could be April Bonner.”

      April’s death was nothing more than Francesca had expected, and yet she didn’t want to believe it. “No…”

      “I’m afraid so.”

      “And all because she was lonely. All because she took a chance on the wrong guy.”

      He said nothing. In a way, Francesca had taken a chance on the wrong guy, too. Him.

      “Was it Butch?”

      “Might’ve been. The body was found in Skull Valley, which is only fifteen minutes from Prescott, even closer to his place. And we both know he was active last night.”

      “How does he do it? How does he slip out of his house without anyone noticing? He’s got a wife, a family. Don’t they wonder where he goes at night?”

      “Maybe they’re too afraid to face what he might be.”

      “Skull Valley’s near the location of the burial site you’ve been working on, too, isn’t