Page 37 of K-9 in Pursuit

He seemed to feel the sharp intake of her breath in his own chest. “Why would they think that?”

“Because they think I killed her and they’re trying to come up with a story that will convict me in court.” He couldn’t stand it anymore, and turned toward her. Her face was drained of color, her expression stricken. “I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“This whole situation is a nightmare,” she said.

“It is. Getting to know you is the only positive thing to come out of it, but I think my lawyer is probably right. We need to avoid each other for a while or we could make things worse.”

She sat very still for a moment, saying nothing. Then she pushed open the truck door. “I’d better go.”

And then she was gone, the door closing behind her with a solid click! The speed of her departure shook him. Brian gripped the steering wheel tightly, then rested his forehead against it. He squeezed his eyes shut against tears that came anyway. Then he felt a damp nose nudge his hand. Daisy had climbed into the front seat and began licking the side of his face. He pulled her close and buried his face in her soft fur. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “Whatever I do is going to hurt someone.”

Chapter Eleven

“Are you doing okay? You look like you had a rough night.”

At Nadia’s words Tuesday morning, Chloe looked up. Her friend’s sympathetic gaze made it clear her attempts at concealing the dark circles beneath her eyes had failed. “I’m not sleeping well, I guess.” She hardly slept at all the past few days, between grieving Sharee’s absence and missing Brian. She couldn’t argue with his reasons for believing they shouldn’t be together, but that didn’t lessen the hurt of his absence. Why did the first man she had been attracted to in ages have to be connected with the loss of her sister?

“Grief is hard,” Nadia said. “Any news from the sheriff?”

“No.” Except they were apparently still convinced Brian had killed Chloe. What if they were right? Chloe had been so wrong about her sister’s character, maybe she had misread Brian, too.

But would a murderer have been so concerned about protecting her? She bit her lip to hold back tears, and silently scolded herself. It was ridiculous to be upset about a non-relationship with a man she scarcely knew. He had caught her at an emotionally vulnerable time, that was all.

The bell on the door chimed, announcing a new customer. Chloe gaped at the woman who sashayed—there was really no other word for it—into the shop. All of five feet tall, with another five inches of blond bouffant, the woman wore tortoise shell cat-eye sunglasses and a calf-length silver fox coat open over a gold jumpsuit that showed off every generous curve. White fur-trimmed boots completed the look. The woman paused just inside the door and looked around, as if to check that the eyes of everyone in the place were indeed focused on her. Then her gaze landed on Chloe. “I’m looking for Chloe Anderson,” she said.

Before Chloe could answer, the focus of the room shifted from the blonde at the door to her. “Um, I’m Chloe,” she said. “How can I help you?”

The woman moved to the front counter. She looked Chloe up and down, then smiled, revealing gleaming, straight teeth. “You were recommended to me for a facial.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chloe pulled up the appointment schedule on her computer. “When would you like to come in for your facial, and what sort of treatment are you interested in? We offer hydrating, rejuvenating or treatments to address particular skin concerns.”

“I don’t only want a facial. I also want a pedicure and a manicure. And a massage.”

“We can certainly arrange that. When is a good day for you?” Chloe avoided looking at the woman too long. That tower of hair had to be a wig. And those false eyelashes were at least an inch long.

“What are your hours?” the woman asked.

“We’re open nine to six, Tuesday through Saturday,” Chloe said.

“Can you work me in tomorrow?” The woman leaned against the counter. “And I want you to do it all. Personally.”

“I’m not a massage therapist,” Chloe said. “But I can certainly do the facial, manicure and pedicure.”

“Forget the massage then. Can you do it tomorrow?”

Chloe studied the schedule. She’d have to move another manicure at one, but she could get one of the other stylists to take care of that. “Certainly. Does one o’clock work for you?”

“As long as I don’t get out of here too late,” the woman said. “I heard this town isn’t safe for women after dark.” She leaned across the counter, her tone confiding. “I heard a young woman was strangled right here in the street. Is that true?”

Chloe stared at her. Was Sharee’s death the subject of local gossip? Of course it was. But she hadn’t realized the news had spread to the tourists.

“Well, is it true?” her visitor demanded. “Is someone going around strangling women?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. I promise to have you out of here well before dark.” She turned her attention back to the computer screen. “May I have your name?”

“It’s Bunny. Bunny Allerton.” She flashed that smile again. “Maybe you’ve heard of the Dallas Allertons.”

Chloe made a noncommittal sound. “Your phone number?”