Perfect Night (Mason Creek #4) - Terri E. Laine Page 0,8

the detective division, sometimes as late as seven, but usually a lot earlier unless we caught a late case.

After checking my watch, it was too early on a Sunday to do anything but go home. I wasn’t ready for that. Soon, the town churchgoers would be heading for services. As for now, the streets were silent. I strolled around the town square and familiarized myself with the businesses. Some were old and some were new. There were a couple of places I could grab lunch or dinner outside of the diner.

I’d rounded the corner and had passed in front of Town Hall when in the distance a tiny figure emerged from the covered bridge. The bouncing blond ponytail gave me pause. I leaned on the stone foundation that flanked the stairs up to the only public offices in town and waited.

My instincts were good. It was Emma and she jogged up to me.

“Hey, stranger,” I teased. “Didn’t know you were a jogger.”

“I’m not actually. I spend too much time in front of a computer and need to get outside from time to time. I would walk, but walking means talking. Someone will want to chat if they see me. When I jog, most people leave me alone.”

“Oh, sorry. Get back to jogging.”

She laughed. “No, it’s fine. You don’t bother me.”

“Glad to hear it. Do you have a second?”

“Yeah, what’s up? You look all official.” She touched the brim of my cowboy hat.

I grinned, hating the idea of bringing up her father’s passing. “I spoke to Sheriff Moon this morning.” When her face registered alarm, I added, “I didn’t tell him you asked for my help.” Her relief was obvious as she sagged some. “It came up and there’s one thing he told me that you didn’t.”

“What’s that?” She looked weary.

“He said you thought the security disk from that day was missing.”

“Oh, yeah. Dad was religious about changing them. I wanted him to change it to a cloud-based system, but he didn’t want to spend the money.” She stopped, and I hated the sadness that crept into her expression. “Anyway, he had seven. He didn’t think he would need to keep more than a week’s worth at any given time. The one labeled for that Sunday was missing.”

“Okay. I’ll probably come in to the bar sometime this week and see how much I can get out of Jack without him knowing what I’m up to.” Without an official case, I couldn’t interview Jack.

“Thanks again. I know this might put you in an awkward position.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job.”

“It’s the sheriff’s job too.”

“It is. And I’d like to think he thought he was doing you a kindness and not being derelict in his duty. Anyway, I don’t want to hold you up. Evan is probably waiting.” I smiled, though I silently prayed she’d say they’d broken up.

“Yeah. He’s likely up, wondering where I am. And whether you like it or not, I owe you dinner, probably multiple ones.”

I tipped my head. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Then she was jogging off and I took a minute to appreciate the view before continuing my walk around the square. As I made my way back to the police station, I was almost certain I saw the mayor leaving the only apartment building in town near the covered bridge. My view was from a little too far to be sure if Darcy was telling the truth. But if that was him, it made sense.

Chapter 5

Emma

For the first time in days, I felt relieved. Aiden had taken me seriously. It had been worth sneaking out of the gathering at my house after the funeral to see him. It had felt like I couldn’t breathe with everyone around. Even Evan. When I’d returned, there had been the making of a search party ready to look for me. I told them I just needed air, and they accepted my excuse.

Of course, Jessie and Alana had warned people off. Evan, however, had been suspicious. We’d fought about it, and I’d shut the door to my room in his face. I’d left this morning before he was up. Was I avoiding him?

The old Victorian house my mother dreamed of owning and eventually did was quiet. Legend had it that the man who built the charming romantic bridge out in the woods had a hand in designing the home. My father bought it for a song, as no one had lived in it for years. Until he died,