Memory of Murder. Ramona Richards

right?”

      “Physically, he’ll bounce back quickly.” Ray’s expression remained stoic.

      “Mentally?”

      “He has a lot to work out.”

      “You ever been through anything like this?”

      He nodded. “Every officer goes through it eventually. Part of the job. No one’s per—” His words broke off as Jeff opened Lindsey’s door.

      Holding her crutch, he helped her out, then walked her to the narrow stoop at the front of her house. “What time will you leave for the restaurant?”

      “Around four. Breakfast prep only takes an hour or so, and RuthAnn comes in at five to help.”

      “RuthAnn Crenshaw?”

      She nodded.

      “Anyone else?”

      “Not till lunch.”

      “You stay all day, right?”

      She shook her head. “Lunch is actually light for us. RuthAnn stays till after breakfast, around eight, then goes to her retail job in Springfield. She comes back in at five-thirty, stays till closing. Damon Schneider and his sister come in at eleven, but after lunch prep, I usually walk home and nap till three. The Schneiders stay till six, then RuthAnn and I work till we close at eight. I’m going to have to hire at least one more person soon, but for now, that’s it.”

      He hesitated, a sudden wariness in his voice. “So where was RuthAnn tonight?”

      Lindsey’s eyes widened as she remembered. “She got a call just before seven. Someone said her mother had fallen. She took off like a shot.”

      Jeff’s eyes hardened. “Did she say who called?”

      “I’m not sure she knew. Do you think that had something to do—”

      “I’ll check it out.”

      Weariness flooded Lindsey’s body, and she leaned heavily against the door frame. “Why is this happening?”

      Jeff touched her shoulder. “Get some rest. Ray will run me home, then he’ll be out here ’til you’re ready to go. I’ll relieve him and take you to the restaurant. You shouldn’t walk.”

      “You really don’t have to—”

      “Lindsey.” He interrupted her, then paused and let out a slow breath. “I know I didn’t take care of you—”

      Without thinking, she cupped his cheek with her free hand, stopping his words. “You did all anyone could do.” The doubt in his eyes made Lindsey ache in a way she didn’t quite understand, but she knew neither of them could deal with it now. Slowly, she eased her hand away. “I’ll see you at four.” Straightening and pulling open the screen door, Lindsey unlocked her home and reached in to turn on the light.

      Then she screamed.

      THREE

      In the flash of a second following her scream, Lindsey both recognized the man standing in her living room and found herself staring at Jeff’s back as he burst from behind her, blocking her from the intruder, gun drawn.

      “Wait!” Her voice squeaked, barely audible, but Jeff had already realized that the abruptly terrified man in front of them posed no threat.

      He lowered his gun. “Max, what are you doing in here?”

      Ray shoved in behind them on full alert, only to have the same reaction. “Maxwell, we could have shot you.”

      Maxwell Carpenter, “Max” to everyone who’d known him for more than five minutes, stood with his arms in the air, wagging his hands furiously and rocking from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” His glasses had slid down his nose, and he stared at them over the top of the black frames. “I was just worried about Lindsey. I heard the ruckus on the scanner. The door was open, so I thought she was home, then realized it was all dark.”

      Lindsey shuddered as she noticed the two officers straighten.

      “The door was open?” Jeff asked.

      Max nodded, his hands still quivering in the air.

      “Gage, clear the house,” the sheriff ordered. “Max, put your arms down.”

      Jeff moved through the four small rooms of the house quickly, checking closets and under the bed.

      His hands dropping to his side as if he’d held up barbells too long, Max focused on Lindsey. “You’re hurt.”

      She smiled weakly. “Nothing serious. You really don’t have to worry.”

      He shrugged one shoulder, causing a shock of dark hair to flop down over his forehead. He raked it back, his hands still shaking. “You’re my favorite tenant, and I’m a dad. You’re my Ashley’s age. It’s not exactly a habit that’s easy to break.”

      Since moving into the small rental home, Lindsey’s affection for Max grew almost daily. Max Carpenter bore not even a remote resemblance to her own father, but she began to see why some women could view their dads so fondly. She reached toward the older man as if to comfort him. “Max—”

      “You should have called us.” Ray Taylor apparently didn’t totally accept Max’s explanation. “You know better. You don’t just walk in on your single female tenants alone, and if the door is open but no one’s home, you call us. One could get you sued; the other could get you killed.”

      “Actually, both could get you killed,” muttered Jeff as he returned to the living room, “given how many women in this county have carry permits.” He glanced at Max, then at Ray. “All clear. Back door was still locked from the inside.”

      Ray nodded. “Lindsey, take a look around, see if anything is missing.”

      Max pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I didn’t notice anything out of—”

      “Lindsey.” Ray’s narrowed eyes stayed on Max, and his tone ended the conversation.

      “Okay.” Lindsey adjusted the crutch under her arm and limped past Ray, a little annoyed at her brother-in-law. Max had been good to her, and he’d never entered the house without giving her advance warning. In fact, Max had been her business mentor since she’d arrived here. Ray had no reason to be so...official. Still, she looked around the living room slowly, then shook her head. “Everything in here looks fine.” She headed for her office, and Jeff followed.

      The tiny home, with its living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and one bathroom, sat on a dead-end street along with eleven other identical houses, each one owned and rented by Max. The rents made up the bulk of his income, along with a small courier service he ran out of the converted house next door to Lindsey’s restaurant. Lindsey used one of the bedrooms as an office, and now she paused, glancing over the paperwork on her desk. “Why is Ray suspicious of Max?”

      Jeff hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

      “Max’s been great to me. He even helped me with the business plan for the restaurant, especially with the stuff relating to Bell County and all the forms and regulations for the state.” She turned and headed for the second door in the office. The house had no hallway, with each room directly adjacent to two others. The living room led to the office, which led to the bedroom. A walk-through bathroom separated the bedroom from the kitchen at the back of the house. An arch between the kitchen and living room made the area look bigger than it actually was.

      Lindsey glanced around the bedroom and shook her head. “Nothing’s been touched.” A flicker of light outside the window caught her eye, and she limped over. Her next-door neighbor was RuthAnn Crenshaw, who worked with her. Barely visible in the golden light of her windows, the older woman sat on her front stoop, her knees drawn up to her chest and one arm wrapped around her legs. A red spot glowed