The Silent Witness. Dani Sinclair

resisted the urge to make a childishly rude gesture in that direction. Instead, he sauntered over to perch on the edge of the tabletop.

      He stared directly into his own face, careful to keep his features as expressionless as possible, while mentally reviewing his actions the night before. Who was their witness? And exactly what had the person seen?

      The witness could be one of the shop owners who’d stepped out back, or a customer in the parking lot, or even someone in one of the apartments over the shops. None of the stores had rear-facing windows. Fortunately, that meant the witness couldn’t be Nicki. She’d been inside her shop all night, right up until the gunshots had sounded.

      Alex frowned. Once he’d learned about her craft shop, he’d deliberately stayed away from that part of town. The last thing he could afford was the complication of running into Nicki Michaels again after all this time. But everything had changed last night with a single phone call. All his good intentions dissolved. He’d stood across the street and watched her move around inside her store while he remembered things that were better left forgotten.

      “Stand up, Coughlin.” Osher’s voice came from a speaker on the wall in the corner. “Everyone needs to stand against the rear wall and face the mirror.”

      Jake Collins frowned. So did one of the other two men Alex didn’t know. In fact, that man looked decidedly nervous. Alex paid him a little more attention, especially when he found himself sandwiched between Collins and the stranger. The man’s jeans were crusted with dirt and greasy stains. He smelled of motor oil and sweat and stale cigarettes. He had a working man’s hands. Dirt was caked under the split and broken fingernails. Alex wondered who he was and what he was doing here in Fools Point. A drifter? They didn’t get many of those here in town.

      One at a time, Osher had the men take a step forward and stand in profile. Despite the fact that all of them had dark hair and were of a similar build, if someone had seen Alex in the alley last night, they weren’t going to be fooled by this charade. Most police forces didn’t bother with lineups any more. They showed victims or witnesses pictures instead, but Osher was making it blatantly clear who he wanted this witness to point out. Chief Hepplewhite had picked a bad week to take his wife into D.C. for medical evaluation.

      Hepplewhite was a good cop. Smart, thorough, with no axes to grind. Osher, on the other hand, couldn’t find a clue if he was stepping on one. Alex stepped back and waited to be denounced. Minutes later, Osher’s voice filled the room again. This time, he sounded disgusted.

      “Okay, let’s do it one more time.”

      Alex breathed a sigh of relief. The witness hadn’t picked him out. But then, what had the witness seen last night? He was going to have to find the person and have a little talk.

      “TAKE ANOTHER LOOK, Ms. Michaels. A good look this time.”

      Nicki couldn’t do anything else. Her insides had twisted the moment the four men had walked into the room. Alex Coughlin, big as life and twice as sexy, had strolled over to perch on the edge of the table. He stared straight into her eyes. Suddenly, she was sixteen again and desperately in love.

      He had to be almost thirty-four by now. And he still needed a haircut and a shave. She almost smiled. Then she realized her fingers were half-raised as if to stroke that cheek. She clutched her hands together as Sergeant Osher spoke to the men.

      Nicki shook her head to rid it of the wash of bittersweet memories. This was hardly the time or the place.

      “Ms. Michaels, you aren’t even trying,” Osher protested. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’ll protect you.”

      She pulled her arm away from his annoying touch. “I’m not the least bit afraid, Sergeant Osher. But, like I told you, it all happened fast. It was very dark outside. I’ve complained to city hall about that broken streetlight behind the store several times. No one does anything.”

      “Ms. Michaels, I know it was dark, but you were right there. You saw the murder.”

      Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I can’t point a finger at anyone, I told you that. I never got a clear look at his face.”

      At least she could say that and speak the truth. She had never seen the murder let alone the murderer’s face. In her heart, she knew it was Alex she’d seen running across the street. But that didn’t mean he’d pulled the trigger, despite what Ilona had said.

      Nicki would go to jail herself before she’d make a positive identification of anyone. She’d given the police the description Ilona had passed on to her. That was as far as she was willing to go. Her mind refused to reconcile the Alex she had known with a man who could walk up to a car and kill someone in cold blood.

      Her Alex had been tough. Ready to defend himself—or anyone weaker if it came to that. But he had never sought trouble. Of course, he hadn’t needed to. It always came looking for him.

      She shrugged off that memory. She was now certain Alex had been across the street right before the shooting. If she was right, he would have had to run across the street the minute she started back to her office with the cash drawer in order to be in position to fire those shots.

      Okay, it was possible. Barely. She didn’t want to believe it. Nicki chewed on her bottom lip. Anyone witnessing a murder would run away. That didn’t make Alex a killer.

      Did it?

      “Try, Ms. Michaels. Try real hard.”

      She glared at the policeman and decided even if she had seen the murder with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have said so to this bully. Thad Osher made her skin crawl. She didn’t like the way he almost leered whenever their paths crossed. He seemed to think he was irresistible to women, but he made her feel dirty and undressed.

      “I’m sorry. I just can’t say for sure.”

      She stared at Alex. A pang of loss held her transfixed. She’d thought him unbearably sexy at nineteen. Cocky. Sure of himself. Running all over town on that secondhand motorcycle he’d bought. Refusing to let the scandal surrounding his father’s death touch him, despite all the whispers and pointed fingers. Alex had been bitter and angry as a teenager, but he’d never been anything but kind to her.

      She’d never forgotten the day he’d picked wildflowers for her down by Trouble Lake. He’d talked about his dreams for the future. A future that hadn’t included a sixteen-year-old girlfriend, she’d finally realized. Back then, she’d been so sure he’d return for her one day. But he never had.

      Osher brought his fist down on his thigh in a gesture of frustration. “Did you see the guy or not?”

      She looked into his glittering eyes and wanted to run. Instead she squared her shoulders defiantly. “Badgering me isn’t going to change a thing, Sergeant. I told you what I saw. I’ve looked at your suspects. Now, I need to open my shop.”

      He stood too close. Nicki decided he had mean eyes. She fought down an instinctive need to back away and held her ground. Sergeant Osher was the type to take advantage of any perceived weakness.

      “You know, Ms. Michaels, once the word gets out there was a witness, that shop might not be a safe place for a woman like you.”

      A trace of fear mixed with her loathing. “Are you threatening me, Sergeant?”

      His eyes flickered. “Not at all. Call it a friendly warning. You’ll be a lot safer once the murderer is behind bars.”

      “Then I suggest you find him.”

      She half expected him to grab her arm as she stalked from the room, but he didn’t. She could feel twin spots of color on her cheeks as she strode quickly past Carolyn. The pretty receptionist, who also served as the police dispatcher, watched with a frowning expression of concern. Another time Nicki would have stopped to chat. Now, she just wanted to escape.

      Nicki hung on to her haughty pose as she left the building and stepped into the wilting heat and humidity of the August sunshine. She was trembling with reaction, so furious she couldn’t think