think of any right now.
Zach sat at the kitchen table and eyed Savannah as she scurried around the room setting the dishes before them, pouring tea into glasses, and generally avoiding looking at him. She didn’t want him here—that much was obvious. Her hostility bothered him but he couldn’t blame her. What he had done was unforgivable. He had known that, though at the time it had made perfect sense.
“Chief, would you like lemon for your tea?” Gibby asked.
“Yes, ma’am. But you know you don’t have to call me Chief, Miss Gibby. Zach’ll do just fine.”
The older woman blushed and giggled like a young girl. Zach hid a smile and glanced over at Savannah, who had just sat down to his left. The daggerlike looks she was throwing him made it clear she wasn’t as easily charmed as her aunt.
“Any ideas on who’s responsible for all these vandalisms the last few weeks?” Gibby asked.
His mouth loaded with the odd-tasting food, Zach swallowed hard and then took in a mouthful of iced tea to wash the taste away. “No, ma’am, not yet.”
“That’s a real shame.”
He could think of a lot more colorful phrases for it.
“What kind of vandalisms?”
This was the first contribution Savannah had made to the conversation, and despite himself, his heart thudded at just hearing her voice.
“Mostly graffiti on buildings. This last episode of firecrackers in the dryers makes me wonder if they’re going in a new direction.”
“You think it’s the same people?” Savannah asked.
“That’s my theory. Low-level pranks. Minimum effort in each case. Just enough to cause havoc.”
“Any suspects?”
He almost smiled at the rapid rate of Savannah’s questions. She had a prosecutor’s expression on her beautiful face. Damn, he’d love to see her in a courtroom.
“None yet,” he answered. “Just a couple of theories.”
His attention moved away from Savannah when Gibby clapped her hands together. Her eyes twinkling with excitement, she said, “I just had a brilliant idea. You and Savannah should talk about your theories and ideas. With both of you working on it together, you’d be able to—”
“Aunt Gibby, I’m here to ready the house for sale, not to assist in a police case. Besides,” she continued, her gaze barely skimming his, “I’m sure Zach has all the help he needs without me interfering.”
“Actually I’d be happy to get your take on it.”
Surprise flickered and then was doused by alarm. For an instant, she’d looked terrified. What was that about? Hell, was she afraid to be around him?
With the expression of a satisfied fat tabby who’d just consumed a large rodent, Gibby said, “Excellent. I’m sure you’ll find the culprit in no time.” Before either he or Savannah could respond, she changed the subject. “How’s your mama gettin’ along? Seems like a month of Sundays since we heard any news of her.”
The beautiful woman to his left shifted, her interest apparent. No wonder. He hadn’t been prone to sharing much about his family life back then. Not that discussing his mother had been necessary—her liaisons hadn’t exactly been a secret. He ignored the small, insidious voice that reminded him that wasn’t entirely true. There had been one he hadn’t known about, and it’d ended up being the most important one of all.
“She’s doing fine. She and Lenny are still living in Pascagoula.”
“And that brother of yours? He still in the military?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Zach didn’t even bother to keep the pride out of his voice as he continued, “He completed his Navy SEAL training a couple of months ago.”
“Josh is a Navy SEAL?” Savannah said. “I hadn’t heard.”
A grin split Zach’s face, a usual occurrence when he was talking about his little brother. “I almost pounded him for not going army but he was on a set course.”
Her beautiful mouth curved in a fleeting smile that was gone before he could appreciate it. “You’re still very proud of him.”
“The proudest. Kid turned out all right.”
Gibby piped in, “Thanks to you, Zach Tanner.”
Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Zach turned his attention back to his meal. It might not be the tastiest he’d had in a while, but at least it kept him away from Savannah’s too-penetrating gaze. Her eyes had lost their earlier animosity, which was a welcome change. If she wanted to talk about Josh, he had no problem. He could talk about his younger brother all day long. But when the conversation drifted toward himself, he’d just as soon not go there.
“Who’s ready for dessert?” Gibby asked.
“I don’t think I have anything to serve,”