Shades of Truth. Sandra Orchard

you out, you’ll keep him around for what, six weeks? And then what, Kim?” Ginny’s eyes hardened with determination. “You can’t keep punishing yourself, and other men, because of Nate.”

      “I’m not.” Kim shifted her attention to a passing truck. “I just don’t have time to date.”

      Ginny’s voice sobered. “I guess you saw today’s paper.”

      “Yeah, but I hope Dad didn’t.” The possibility tied her in knots. “If the cancer weren’t already killing him, today’s headline would.”

      Ginny turned onto Kim’s street. The yards, normally filled with laughing children, lay as desolate in the sweltering heat as her family home had felt since she’d moved back to help care for Dad.

      “I hate to bring this up on top of everything else going on right now,” Ginny said. “But the youth pastor was hoping you could give another talk about the dangers of drug use, maybe talk about what it’s like for the kids at Hope Manor. Give them a picture of where a little ‘innocent’ fun can lead. He’s worried about one girl in particular, but doesn’t want to single her out in case he’s wrong.” Ginny parked in the driveway. “And from what Rick tells me about the recent rise in drug-related crimes, all the kids need to be warned.”

      “Your hubby’s right. They do. I’d be happy to speak to the group.”

      A new fear pinched Kim’s throat. What if Blake was high when he gunned his car at her?

      If he was using again, he might not respond well to being confronted. But she couldn’t pretend the incident never happened. If he’d merely been distracted, she’d warn him to be more careful. If he was using …

      Her finger strayed to the scar under her jaw, courtesy of the last drug user she’d tried to reason with. She’d met the kid while he was doing a stint at the manor. He’d been a good kid, considering. When she’d happened upon him a year later smoking crack in an empty picnic pavilion at Harbor Park, the red gang bandanna around his arm should’ve clued her in to how much he’d changed. She hadn’t noticed his knife until he rounded the table, enraged by her audacity to tell him he was screwing up his life. He’d grabbed her hair and scraped the blade across her throat.

      An icy chill shivered down her spine.

      Stop it. Nothing was going to happen. She yanked an elastic from the pocket of her shorts and wound her hair into a tight bun, just in case. Maybe she should ask someone to go with her.

      She glanced at Ginny.

      No, she could no more confide in her wife-of-a-cop friend than in her overprotective Good Samaritan. Ginny would try to talk her out of it, and then she’d sic her hubby on Blake. And as much as Kim trusted Rick’s discretion, she couldn’t risk talk that would further blacken the manor’s reputation. She swallowed, and dread sank like a stone to the pit of her stomach.

      She had no choice. She’d face Blake alone.

      THREE

      Never more relieved to see a shift end, Ethan grabbed his cell phone and wallet from his locker and headed for the car. The muggy air sat heavy in his chest, kind of like his day.

      Being here had scraped open so many memories he felt raw.

      He’d done his job—acquainted himself with the facility and their procedures, introduced himself to the daytime staff and met the residents. But he’d struggled to stay focused. The incident involving Kim presented the most promising lead, and all he’d wanted to do was follow up on it.

      Reaching his car, he pulled out his phone to check the internet for her address. As the info came up, Aaron Sheppard exited the building, phone pressed to his ear.

      Head down, Aaron strode toward the parking lot, talking intently.

      Ethan hoped Aaron wasn’t solidifying plans to get together with Kim, because Ethan planned to stop by her place on the pretense of checking on her ankle. And he didn’t want the other man in the way, especially since he didn’t intend to leave until he figured out what she was hiding.

      He opened his car door to a blast of heat that tripled the sweat sluicing down his neck. The A/C in the cheap apartment he’d rented on the east side of town had better work better tonight than it had last night or he could forget about getting any sleep. Once he wrapped up this case, he’d work on finding a house with central air, a decent yard. Maybe adopt a dog.

      Two cars over, Aaron revved the engine of his green Mini Cooper and slammed down his phone. A moment later, he roared out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

      Curious about what got him so riled, Ethan shoved his stick shift into First and followed.

      Aaron hit Lakeshore Road and turned east toward Harbor Park. Ethan hung back so as not to be spotted.

      The car circled the packed parking lot and squeezed into a space only a Mini Cooper would fit into. Ethan pulled up onto the grass three rows over.

      The air smelled of heated sand and coconut oil. Sunbathers crammed the beach. Squealing children romped in the cool Lake Erie water.

      Aaron shaded his eyes and scanned the crowds. He headed for a spreading maple where a group of young people huddled around a picnic table.

      Ethan shed his shirt to blend in with the beachgoers and moseyed to a nearby bench.

      A blonde, no more than fifteen, pushed a paper bag across the table to Aaron.

      The scene had drug deal written all over it. Except the girl didn’t have the cocky attitude of an experienced seller. Her hands trembled and her gaze never lifted past the middle of Aaron’s chest.

      Aaron peeked inside the bag, his expression neutral. Then he scrunched the top of the bag in his fist and said something Ethan couldn’t make out.

      Ethan pulled out his cell phone and, pretending to search for a signal, snapped pictures of the three girls and two guys hanging on to Aaron’s every word. Everyone appeared more relaxed now that the exchange had been made.

      People usually didn’t hang around to talk after a drug buy. So what was in the bag?

      The teens moved toward the pier, and Aaron headed back to the parking lot. But he walked past his car.

      Ethan maneuvered through the playground, keeping Aaron in his sights.

      Aaron crossed the sidewalk in front of the ice-cream shop, but instead of going inside, he skulked along the side of the building and slipped in behind.

      Ethan snuck behind the neighboring building and scaled a stack of skids in time to glimpse Aaron toss the bag in a Dumpster.

       A dead drop?

      Ethan ducked before Aaron could spot him. He peered through the slatted fence separating the buildings. Seagulls screeched overhead.

      Ethan shrank into the shadows, but Aaron didn’t pay the noisy birds any attention. He brushed off his hands and sauntered back toward the parking lot.

      As much as Ethan wanted to follow, he needed to see what was in that bag. He edged along the fence and scanned the area for signs of anyone who might be there to make the pickup. Whoever it was wouldn’t wait too long or he’d risk the bag getting buried.

      The rear door of the ice cream shop opened and a teenage boy in a white apron and hairnet hauled out a trash bag. He set the bag on the cement stoop and pulled out a smoke.

      Was this the pickup guy?

      The kid lit up and started texting on his cell phone. Sweat glistened on his face, but that was as likely from the heat as nerves.

      Ethan swiped his shirt over his own damp face, and then pulled the shirt back on.

      The kid snapped shut his phone and ground his cigarette butt under his heel. As he reached for the door handle, he seemed to remember the trash bag. He opened the Dumpster and tossed in the bag without so much as