Sparking His Interest. Wendy Etherington

He’d relied on stark professionalism as they examined the body for evidence and identification and waited for the coroner and ambulance.

      Unable to find ID, Cara had ordered the victim be sent directly to the hospital morgue for autopsy. Poor old Doc Moses, who served as the town’s coroner, had never seen anything like this horribly disfigured body. He’d mumbled and stumbled, and Cara had pulled him aside while the paramedics bagged the body for transport.

      Then, patting Doc’s hand, she’d told him to go on home. She’d call one of the state’s forensic experts to do the autopsy and have him rush to Baxter immediately.

      She’d been brave and lovely, and Wes found himself falling even more thoroughly under her spell.

      “After you drop me off at the hospital, go home and get some rest,” she said quietly. “I’ll call you when I have news.”

      “I’m going to the firehouse.” At least they’d have food and company. “Why don’t you come with me? You can shower, get some coffee…”

      But she was already shaking her head. “I told the pathologist I’d meet him at the hospital. Hopefully, he’ll have preliminary results sometime tomorrow.”

      He simply nodded.

      “You mind if I roll down the window a bit?” she asked, not looking at him.

      “Go ahead.” With the scent of smoke still permeating his clothes, some fresh air would no doubt do them both good. The crisp air hit him, shocking his thoughts and senses into clarity. Her hair billowed away from her face, highlighting her pale skin and watery eyes. Again, the need to touch her washed over him.

      He gripped the steering wheel tighter. She was a colleague, not a date. “You want some company at the hospital?”

      “No, thanks. I need to be alone. I need to think.”

      Wes didn’t argue, though he wanted to leave her about as much as he wanted to find another body in the warehouse rubble.

      So it must have been self-preservation that made him press harder on the gas.

      HOURS LATER, Wes found himself staring out another window. This time it was Ben’s office window at the firehouse. The sky blazed a brilliant October blue. Not a cloud floated on the horizon. The sun was bright, almost stark white, so powerful he had to squint to look at it.

      If he stared intensely enough would he forget the sight of the body? He hoped so, since every time he closed his eyes that’s all he saw.

      As a result, he’d never gone back to sleep. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and he still had no desire to lie down, even though Ben had tried to push him to get some rest. The only concession he’d made was to shower and borrow some clean clothes.

      Cara had just called Ben from the hospital. She had some preliminary results, and she was on her way to see them.

      In the hours they’d been apart, Wes had managed to rebottle his emotions. They’d been through a charged and shocking situation together; it was only natural he’d felt a certain kinship with her. Their thought processes and dispositions were similar so, of course, he’d been drawn to her. They were virtually in the same business so, of course, they understood each other. But in a normal situation, if he’d spotted her at the grocery store or in a bar, he wouldn’t have done more than smile politely. This clawing, aching need to see her again, to finally, fully touch her skin was nothing more than a human reaction to a stressful situation.

      He’d had more bad endings to relationships in the past year than he’d had in his whole life. Some bad and embarrassing endings. Monica came to mind. It was enough to put a man off women. Well, almost.

      And he remembered Cara knew her. Monica and Cara. He found that combination hard to mesh. On the other hand, outrageous Monica had married conservative Ben, and they were happy, so what did he know about the subtleties of the heart? He was better off alone. Always had been. Probably always would be.

      The office door swung open. Steve stuck his head inside. “Wanna get a beer later?”

      “Yeah. Maybe. If I’m awake later.”

      “You can tell me all about the sexy Captain Hughes.”

      “She’s here to work, not date the locals.” Oh, Mr. Righteous, are we? You, however, can come on to her all you like. He refused to acknowledge his conscience trying to tell him that he just didn’t need Steve’s competition. Women fell at the guy’s feet on a daily basis. “Watch yourself, baby brother, she’s armed.”

      “Sounds like a challenge.”

      Whatever additional warning Wes would have liked to issue was interrupted by the mayor and Ben brushing by Steve as they entered the office.

      “Ben,” the mayor said as he waddled across the room, “I just don’t see how this woman, this outsider can do a better job than your folks here.”

      Steve grinned, then retreated quickly, closing the door.

      The mayor went on, “She sent Doc Moses into a near faint with that body business.”

      Before Wes could defend Cara or explain the situation the mayor had—as usual—gotten wrong, Ben spoke up. “Doc’s the coroner. By law we have to call him to the scene. Captain Hughes has graciously offered to assist in the investigation by bringing in one of her colleagues for the autopsy.”

      “Oh, hello, Wes,” the mayor said absently, plopping into a chair in front of Ben’s desk. “Glad you’re here. I’m sure you’ll be on my side in this.”

      Wes met Ben’s gaze over the mayor’s head. His brother shook his head.

      Striving to take his brother’s silent advice, Wes didn’t comment, though where the mayor got that Wes of all people would be on his side, he hadn’t a clue. At least the mayor’s presence had driven all self-pitying, morose thoughts from his mind. No one could keep from smiling in the presence of a man in a lime-green polyester jumpsuit with bright orange rhinestones, turquoise braided trim and pink sunglasses.

      “We have a murder to investigate,” Wes began. “We’re all on the same side.”

      The mayor sighed into his jowls. “Yes, yes, of course. Any idea who he was?”

      “There was no ID on the body,” Ben said. “Captain Hughes told me only that he was male, Caucasian, probably between forty-five and fifty. Mr. Addison has been contacted, and he’s spoken with his managers. None of the employees are unaccounted for, so we’re going to put the dental records into a national database.”

      The mayor winced. “Dental records. I can’t believe this is happening in Baxter.”

      Ben sank into the chair behind his desk. He, too, hadn’t slept. “I know. It’s been a rough night for everyone.”

      “Mr. Addison will demand quick answers,” the mayor added.

      Wes, who still hadn’t moved from his position in front of the window, couldn’t resist this time. “He’ll have to wait in line.”

      The mayor glanced up at him, surprise evident in his eyes. “Wes, you know as well as I do how important Mr. Addison is to this community. It’s thanks to his civic generosity that we have a new communications system in the police station.”

      Wes ground his teeth. “I’m well aware of his contribution.”

      “Tax dollars are simply not enough,” the mayor continued, obviously not aware of Wes’s gathering temper. “Without cooperation from the business community we can’t move our town forward.”

      Wes was all for moving forward, and he couldn’t deny the equipment was cutting-edge, but in his experience, ultragenerous gifts of thousands of dollars never arrived without a cost. Especially from a blow-hard like Addison. Wes had been waiting nearly four months to find out just when Addison would ask for his favor. The passing of time had only made him more itchy, wondering just