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“I have my ways. Besides I figured I sold you on Glen Hills. It was a neat town to grow up in.”

As if he were psychic, he did always find her. “If I didn’t trust you I’d think you were a stalker. Are you really in California?”

She checked her Mickey Mouse clock.

“It’s two in the morning, here. I’m waiting for the sun to come up. Too bad I’m on the beach facing west.”

She had to laugh. He didn’t sound stoned, but then he was a little off-center, even sober. “You can’t do anything the way the rest of us do it, can you?

“So how’s your new place? Shame about Ken.”

For a moment her recent breakup and relocation sent a pain through her heart. Part of her knew she had unfinished business with her ex. “It was time to move on.”

“Yeah, you’d been in that town for a whole two years. I was sure you were putting down roots,” Mark said.

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

She shifted the sheet over her. Despite the continent separating them, she didn’t like speaking on the phone to Mark if she were naked.

“Well, you know me. I’m never gonna own a house.”

He’d be fifty wandering from acting job to acting job. She didn’t envy his wanderlust. Just once she’d like to stay in one place more than a few years. “No white picket fences in your future.”

“So, have you time slipped again?”

She sighed. Only Mark knew about her gift. He was her safe haven when the talent became too much for her to handle. “Yeah, I have. For three weeks I’ve avoided dead people.”

“So what happened?”

“I had no choice but to enter a hospital room. I even steered clear of her, but she managed to touch me. Hey, you didn’t call me the first time around.”

“You know I can’t explain this any better than you can. So was she murdered?”

Grace tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She liked talking to Mark. He understood her in so many ways. “Always. The victims of natural causes don’t bother to get in touch with me,” she said.

“This getting you down?”

“Just the last time. I never solved it and she still died.”

“You’re whining. You’re not a superhero.”

“But wasn’t I given this odd gift to help people? If I don’t, then what’s the use?”

A deep, feminine voice purred in the background. Then Mark said, “Gracie, I have to go.”

“I’ll bet. Ever the Casanova.”

“You know me.”

The dial tone hummed, their connection severed.

Zach typed Grace’s name and license plate number into his computer. Hopefully nothing would come back. He didn’t want to see his ex taken in by anyone.

Shaking his head he turned his mind back to his task. But his thoughts stilled on the idea of his baby growing inside Dolores.

He didn’t feel anything for her. Was he monster?

He’d love the baby because he couldn’t do anything else.

The computer sat on a scarred wooden desk he’d found at an estate sale. Something about it called to him. He even left the initials “D.W.” in it. He did put on a clear finish and bought a glass blotter it to protect the character it possessed.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when Grace’s name appeared in the national database. The one he shouldn’t still have access to, but his teen neighbor hacked into for him.

She’d been accused of murder. “That can’t be good.”

He yanked the phone off the hook and dialed Dolores’ house. The house where his child would grow up.

Calling up the archives for a newspaper local to where Grace lived when she under suspicion, he listened to Dolores’ phone ring.

The answering machine picked up and Zach contemplated not leaving a message. “Lors, call me at work or on my cell. It’s important.”

He dropped the receiver back in its cradle, frustration seeping into his bones. He’d offered to buy her a cell phone, but she saw no reason for it. Right now he’d give anything to get in touch with her. Grace Harmony had to be bad news.

Shame since he found her attractive, but women like that were akin to Black Widow spiders. She’d probably eat her young, too.

Then he smacked his own forehead, Dolores’ whereabouts came clear to him. “What day is it?”

Tuesday, his discarded newspaper told him.

She’s at work. He tried her there.

“Hi, Zach. Is something wrong?” she said. Her voice sounded faraway, distracted.

Too many years of him calling that he’d be home late for dinner. She always assumed there was a problem. “Not wrong. What do you know about this Grace Harmony?”

“Why, she a murderer?”

His eyes dropped closed. Little did she know. “I’m serious, Lors. What do you know about her?”

“She’s a medic at Community Hospital.”

“Did she tell you where she lived before coming to Glen Hills?”

“No, I didn’t ask. Why the interrogation?”

His other line rang, but he ignored it. They’d call back. “She’s in the computer. She’s been charged with a crime.”

“Was she convicted?”

“No, but-”

“Well, then she’s fine.”

The clock ticked on the wall. His cheap, metal blinds clanged in the breeze.

“Cops don’t charge people with crimes for no reason,” he argued.

“But sometimes innocent people get charged. You know that.”

You’d think she’d be more jaded having been married to him for so long. He rubbed a hand down his face. Maybe his cynicism blocked him from seeing the good in everyone. “They may be innocent of that crime, but not of others.”

“We’ve had this argument before. Let’s not go there,” she said.

“You’re right, but when is she moving in?”

“Later this morning. I’m taking an early lunch and giving her the key.”

“What time?”

He had to be somewhere in an hour, but he’d fit it in no matter what the consequences. He needed to confront this woman before she moved in and couldn’t be moved out.

“Eleven. She’s eager to get in.”

“Can you stall until I get there?”

“Why?”

“I need to see her for myself.”

She sighed. “You don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true. I just trust my own instincts more.”

And his were better, unless they involved love. For sex, he could pick them, differentiate the losers from the winners, but when any emotion entered into the bargain, what a mess.

“Jerk,” she said, but no venom colored her words.

He’d always been honest with her. “Yes, but you like me anyway.”

“You have a charm about you. A very, raw, rugged one at that.”

Just like his desk.

He chuckled. Her flirting on another day would have put him at ease. Today he had a bad feeling. “Will you stall?”

“Okay, but not too long. You know I’m not good at that.”

“Thanks, dear,” he said.

He hung up before he realized what he called her.

For a woman on her lunch hour, Dolores was chatty to Grace. They stood on the driveway in front of Grace’s car, loaded to beyond full.

The day had dawned overcast with a forecast for possible showers. Grace wished it held off until she finished. Listening to Dolores, she shifted from foot to foot.

“I cleaned the furniture last week, right after I put the ad in the paper.”

Dolores looked around as she spoke as if waiting for someone. The next moment a battered compact came into view. The driver parked the vehicle on the street behind Dolores’ car.

Maybe an inspector, but Grace’s cop radar pinged when he stepped out of his vehicle. He reeked of the self-assurance borne of fighting bad guys.

Not a bad sight to look at either. Too bad. Relationships didn’t last when you time slipped. You didn’t forget, but your lovers did.

Damn.

He surveyed the area before walking to the women. Confidence colored his steps. Shoulders a mile wide sat atop a fit body. His slicked back, black hair crowded at the base of his neck in a mob of curls.