The Homecoming (4 page)

“Art’s subjective,” he pointed out. “Though, for the record, the stuff he was renting out probably wouldn’t have rated a double X these days.”

Then, because they’d gotten offtrack, he decided it was time to change the subject. Not wanting to push her any more about her feelings regarding widowhood, since he really didn’t want to give a shit, he pointed his flashlight beam toward the bleached bone he hadn’t touched since Velcro had dropped it at his feet.

“Here it is.”

“Well.” She looked down at it. “I have to agree. That sure looks human to me. You told my dispatcher your dog dug it up?”

“I’m not sure.” Speaking of the dog, he could hear Velcro whining on the other side of the door. Too bad the dog couldn’t really talk and let him know a few more details. “We were on the beach when she took off like a shot and brought it back up here with her.”

Despite the possible seriousness of the topic, Sax almost smiled. “Crazy mutt has a major jones for fetching.”

“I appreciate your stopping her from chewing it up.”

“No problem. It looks old.”

“Yeah. It does.” She crouched down to study it closer. “I’ve got some gloves in the car. I’ll take it in and send it to the OSP lab for DNA analysis.”

“Isn’t there some kind of time limit on DNA?”

“I’m no expert, but when I was on the Oceanside PD, I worked a joint case with the San Diego sheriff’s department. The forensics guy the DA brought in to testify had done research on skeletal remains dating back as far as 1000 B.C.”

“Well, I’d guess this one’s nowhere near that old.”

“Hardly. From what I learned, DNA preservation is very dependent on where and how tissue or a sample is stored. Stored cool and/or dry, DNA can last a very long time.”

“Which, conversely, means that moisture’s going to cause bones to age, so DNA would degrade a lot faster here.”

“That’d be my guess. Though I’m certainly no expert on the subject, and again, according to that witness, appearances can be deceiving and don’t always predict typing success. Even the best in the business can’t look at a sample and know whether it still harbors DNA. So we’ll send it in, see if anything pops. I’ll also run a check on missing persons, so if we do get a hit the lab can try matching.”

He watched her bag and label the evidence with all the care he would have expected from someone who’d always paid attention to detail. But, if he’d given the matter any thought, he would’ve guessed that Kara would’ve ended up a doctor, like her mother. Or maybe, given how she’d always been hanging around her dad’s sheriff’s office, working as a district attorney somewhere.

“I never would’ve figured you for a cop,” he said.

“Like I said, appearances can be deceiving. I never would’ve guessed you’d end up a hero with a chestful of medals.”

“We’re only talking two. And one’s for getting shot, which any idiot can do. I’m no hero.”

She stood up, holding the bag in her left hand. A hand on which, he noticed, she still wore the simple gold wedding band Cole had helped Jared pick out. “Tell that to the town council.”

“I tried. They’re a little hardheaded.”

“Tell me about it. When I came home for Dad’s funeral, I sure hadn’t intended to end up bagging beer bottles and old bones here in Shelter Bay.”

“Beer bottles?”

“There’s a chance the miscreants who battered Edna Lawton’s mailbox left behind trace evidence she wants sent to the lab.”

“Probably be quicker just to ask around.”

“Which is exactly what I intend to do. Stuff like that doesn’t stay a secret for long. Which you undoubtedly remember.”

He rubbed his temple. “Funny. I’m drawing a blank.”

They both knew it was a lie. Her own father had picked him up for the same crime one Halloween and kept him overnight in one of the jail’s two cells. No charges were ever filed, and the punishment Sax had faced from his parents when he’d arrived home that next morning was probably harsher than anything Sheriff Ben Blanchard could’ve dished out.

“Selective memory is a handy thing.” Her tone was dry, but he thought he detected a touch of humor. “Do me a favor and keep that dog on a leash when you take him—”

“Velcro’s a her.”

“Velcro?”

“She had a hard start, which has her sticking to me like, well, Velcro. Seemed to fit.”

“My dispatcher said you got her from some bikers?”

“There was a little scuffle over turf between the Mongols and the Gypsy Jokers outside a bar in Portland. Shots were fired. Velcro freaked and ran off, dragging a concrete barricade her owner had chained her to behind her. I just happened to be there.”

“And took her.”

“Liberated her,” he corrected, having to raise his voice over the door scratching the dog had added to her whining repertoire at hearing her name.

She smiled at that. A quick, unexpected flash that—oh, hell—hit him like a sucker punch in the solar plexus.

“Yay, you.” The smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Horizontal lines appeared in her forehead. “You do realize you could have gotten yourself shot.”

“They were a little busy trying to beat one another’s brains out at the time,” he said mildly. “Not that any of them appeared to have that much in the way of gray matter. And from the way the mutt’s ribs were sticking out, and all the fleas and ticks using her as their very own happy-hour buffet, I figure whoever owned her didn’t much care if she took off with a stranger.

“So I brought her back here, where the vet cleaned her up, gave her shots, and made sure there won’t be any pups in case some gentleman dog comes calling.”

He didn’t mention his hefty contribution to Dr. Charity Tiernan’s no-kill shelter. The veterinarian seemed to be on a personal crusade to find every dog and cat in the county a home. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed to escape her clinic without the box of mewling kittens she’d been trying to push on him to go along with his new dog.

“Trey—that’s Jared’s and my son—has been after me to get him a dog,” Kara revealed. “But we’re living with Mom, and she isn’t exactly a dog person.”

“Bring him over here,” he heard himself calling out to her as she moved with purpose toward the black-and-white cop car. “There’s plenty of Velcro to share.”

She paused long enough to shoot him a look over her shoulder. “Thanks. But I don’t take my son along on crime scenes.”

Here’s your out. Take it. Do not make this personal
.

“I was talking about some other time.”
Shit
. He’d never been that good about taking anyone’s advice. Even his own. “Maybe you could bring him by, let him throw a ball to the dog, who’d probably go nuts over having herself a boy to play with, while you and I catch up over a pot of gumbo and a couple of beers. Or wine.”

Most women, even brisk professional cops, probably preferred wine. Not that he had any in the house, and, since his home had suddenly turned into a possible crime scene, it sounded like he was going to be stuck here a good part of tomorrow.

Fortunately, Chapman’s Harbor Market delivered. Even better, Mary Chapman had always liked him, pinching his cheeks and slipping him sweets from the candy jar she kept on the counter back when he’d been a kid.

“Are you talking about a date?”

It wasn’t the most encouraging response he’d ever had from a woman. In fact, she sounded as if he’d suggested they tear off all their clothes and go skinny-dipping with sharks.

“Well, I was thinking along the lines of a meal and conversation. But if you’d prefer to jump a few steps ahead to an actual date—”

“That’s not what I was saying.” She turned fully toward him, arms folded beneath pert breasts she sure as hell hadn’t had back in high school. The badge winked in the light, reminding Sax that Kara wasn’t some SEAL groupie looking to pass time, but a law enforcement officer. Along with being a single mom who, from what he could tell, didn’t exactly appear to be a merry widow.

She sighed. Dragged a hand through that shiny hair in a gesture he remembered well. “Look, I don’t mean to sound unappreciative of your offering to let my son visit your dog. But I’ve got a lot on my plate these days, so free time’s more a fantasy than reality. Besides, thanks to this”—she raised the bag—“we may find ourselves involved in a case. So any interpersonal interaction, no matter how innocent, wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Because he knew she was as serious as a heart attack, and also, dammit, probably right, Sax managed, just barely, to keep the smile off his face. “Wouldn’t want folks talkin’.”

“People always talk. What I wouldn’t want is to risk some defense attorney using any relationship we might have—past or present—against me in court.”

“Wow.” He rocked back on his heels. “And here I’d thought SEALs were the champs of thinking through possible outcomes of any situation.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Never.” He decided,
What the hell
. “You were always a pretty girl, Kara, but you’ve definitely grown into one fine-looking woman. And since you brought up fantasies—”

“Not
that
kind.”

“Since you brought them up,” he repeated, “a man would have to be dead both between the ears and below the waist not to enjoy himself a few fantasies while looking at you.”

He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to argue again. “But when I invited you to dinner, the invitation to your son was absolutely legit. And while I’m being honest here, worrying about losing a hypothetical case because you might have shared a pot of gumbo with someone even remotely connected to that case, especially here in Shelter Bay, where you’d be hard-pressed to find even two degrees of separation between folks, seems a bit of a hard line to take.”

He paused. “Unless you’re considering me a suspect.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Of course not. It’s just that things are, well, complicated.”

“Life’s complicated. Which is what keeps it interesting.”

“I’m beginning to remember why no girl ever said no to you.”

He’d bet his left nut
she
would have, if he’d followed his teenage body’s demands back then and asked. Which no way would’ve happened. And not just because Jared and Cole would’ve whaled the tar out of him. Because some things a guy, even one with the rep he’d had back then, just didn’t do. And poaching another man’s woman was up there at the top of the list.

She’d been forbidden fruit.

Which had probably been part of what had made her all the tastier.

“That’s an exaggeration,” he answered her accusation. Admittedly not by much. Sax had always enjoyed women. Who, fortunately, had always seemed to enjoy him right back. Even better, the ones he tended to hook up with hadn’t been into forever-afters any more than he was. “Besides, times change. People change.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Sure. Look at me. A guy who was voted most likely to miss his tenth high school class reunion because he’d be in prison is about to be given a big parade down Main Street.”

“You were also voted most likely member of our class to be a rock star,” she remembered.

“I guess I missed my chance at that when I turned down the Navy’s offer to put me in their band.”

“Cole told me you’d become a SEAL.”

Which didn’t sound as if it had surprised her as much as it probably had the rest of the town. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

A not uncomfortable silence settled over them. Utilizing a patience that had been drilled into him during BUD/S training, Sax waited her out.

“I’m living with my mother.”

“So you said.”

“I guess my son inherited some of his father’s genes, because he’s been after me to let him sign up for a Pop Warner team this coming fall. But neither his grandmother nor I know anything about playing football.”

“I was more into baseball, myself. But Jared and Cole used to use me as a tackling dummy, so I learned a few moves I could maybe pass on to him. Enough that at least he’d have some confidence when they start picking teams.”

“Jared told you to watch out after me, didn’t he?” she asked in that straight-talking way he remembered. The woman had never been one to play coy or beat around the bush. If she was thinking something, she told you. Flat-out. “Back then,” she qualified. “After he and Cole left town and joined the Marines.”

Not knowing what she’d been told, Sax decided not to lie. “Watching you was no hardship, Kara.”

“I suspected it at the time,” she said. “And now you feel responsible for watching out for his son.”

“You can look at it that way, if that’s what’ll get you to cross that line you’re trying to draw between us in the sand.”

Another silence.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally as a lonely fog-horn sounded somewhere in the night. Then she turned around again and climbed into the cruiser.

Although covering that very fine ass in such an ugly pair of pants was a crime in itself, Sax decided that the scenery around Shelter Bay had definitely improved.

Dr. Faith Hart Blanchard was waiting up at the kitchen table when Kara slipped into the house from the garage. Despite the late hour, not a blond hair was out of place in her mother’s chin-length bob, and her subtly applied makeup looked as fresh as it had when she’d left the house early this morning.

“I thought you might enjoy some tea,” her mother said in greeting.

What she’d enjoy was falling into bed and sleeping for the next three days. But Kara forced a smile. “Tea sounds terrific.”

“I kept the water hot after you called saying you’d been delayed.” Faith took the kettle from the range top and poured it into a blue china teapot.

“I also told you not to wait up.”

“A mother worries.” She brought the pot and two flowered cups over to the table. Along with cloth napkins and sterling silver spoons Kara knew had been a wedding gift from the Hart side of the family. “Especially when she doesn’t know the nature of the emergency call.”