Murder in the Smokies - By Paula Graves Page 0,24

had gone quiet, the worst of the storm now past. A pale hint of moon glow peeked through the thinning clouds, casting a blue square of light across the wood slats of her front porch.

Suddenly, a shadow moved across the patch of light, quick and furtive.

A shadow shaped like a man.

Chapter Six

As tired as he was, Sutton had hoped he’d fall asleep quickly. Anything to keep from lying there, just a few feet from where Ivy Hawkins was sleeping, imagining in vivid detail what it would be like to explore every inch of her curvy little body.

He was used to sleeping wherever he laid his head, in desert or jungle, soft hotel bed or grimy blanket on the cold and stony ground. But he couldn’t relax enough to close his eyes for long, and it took a while to realize that his insomnia was about more than his libido. He was also worrying over the meaning of the evening’s ambush.

Why had someone targeted him? As he’d pointed out to Ivy, not many people even knew he was in town, and even if a few folks had seen him around and recognized the Calhoun boy who’d left town nearly fifteen years ago, how many would know he was investigating one of the murders?

Or was Ivy’s friend John the deputy right? Could the shooter have targeted him for being Cleve Calhoun’s son?

But why not target Cleve instead? As far as Sutton knew, his father didn’t exactly live holed up behind a fortress wall. If someone wanted him dead badly enough, it shouldn’t have been hard to make it happen.

The darkness outside the spare room window had softened, a hint of moonlight drifting through the curtains as it struggled to penetrate the wispy remainder of storm clouds darkening the sky. From where he lay on the sofa bed, Sutton could make out the outline of spiky evergreen treetops, black against the fainter blue of the sky.

Suddenly, a flash of darkness blotted out the pale light. Just as suddenly, it was gone and the light was back.

Sutton sat up in a single, fluid motion, one hand reaching for the Glock 17 lying on the nicked wooden table by the sofa. He padded quietly to the window that looked out on the front yard. The porch was empty, as was the patch of grass beyond. Scudding clouds swallowed the moon again, pitching the night into inky darkness. But Sutton felt, more than saw, movement outside. A furtive, slinking shadow glided just beyond the edges of his vision until it faded into the blackness of the tree line at the edge of the yard.

He heard the front door open with a soft creak. Taking just enough time to pull on his jeans and shove his feet into a pair of running shoes, he hurried out to the front room in time to see the door close with a soft snick.

Had someone come in? Or gone out?

Carefully, he eased open the door. The groan of the hinges made him wince. So much for stealth.

“Stop there.” Ivy’s voice was a low growl in the impenetrable darkness.

“It’s me,” he whispered quickly.

“I saw someone pass by the window.” She kept her voice low, but the whisper couldn’t hide the tension in her tone.

“I did, too.” He realized he was still holding the Glock outstretched. He dropped it to his side.

“I might have seen someone moving out by the trees, but I can’t be sure.” Ivy moved, a dark shape looming toward him in the dark. He felt the heat of her body as it neared his, a potent reminder that the night had grown cold and damp, making him wish he’d taken a moment more to grab a shirt.

Suddenly, her small, dark shape pitched forward with a gasp, slamming into him. He put up his free hand to catch her, and the soft heat of her body burned into his bare skin like a brand.

“So sorry!’ she breathed against his chest, steadying herself by grasping both his arms. “I stepped on something that made me trip—”

Damn, she felt good. Soft in all the right places, and sweet-smelling, like ripe apples warmed by the sun. A few strands of her hair still clung to his face, caught in his beard stubble, the sensation unexpectedly arousing.

He let go of her reluctantly when she stepped away and bent to pick up something at her feet.

“Hmm,” she said, her tone puzzled. He heard a soft click and the beam of a flashlight sliced through