What a day. Discovering a dead person—especially a murdered one, wasn’t on Jack’s to do list—ever. The dead woman’s employees kept him from making a quick getaway, and the news media bombarded him when he finely did get to leave. Reporters shoved microphones in his face, peppering him with questions from every direction. He hadn’t intended on finishing his jog yelling “no comment” over his shoulder.
Nope. His entire weekend plans consisted of buying a lot of beer and drinking a lot of beer. With a case under each arm, he shouldered the door open, eager to get started.
Glad his stomach settled after the sight of way too much blood, he placed his purchases on the counter, and then strolled to the pantry. After he inserted two pastries into the toaster, he unloaded the boxes into the near-empty refrigerator.
Brunch was heating. He walked into the adjoined living area with his drink in hand, ready to get comfortable in the leather recliner. He folded his newspaper so the crossword faced outward and stretched across the coffee table for the remote. An anxious a rap came from the front. He stopped in mid-reach and whirled in the direction of the knock.
Who the hell would show up now? He squinted toward the entrance and frowned. Who’d visit him period?
A woman stood under the overhang. Although unable to make out her features, the dim light from the early afternoon sun revealed a thick, auburn mane.
He sensed her gaze on him. He tossed his hair off his forehead and lumbered to the entryway. Uneasy honey eyes peered inside, confirmed his suspicions. He wished whoever designed this place had used wood instead of the lead glass panes around the doorway. The exposure invaded his diminutive private space.
A faint snap of his toaster popped from the kitchen. The aroma of fruited pastry filled the room. He disregarded his meal and progressed in the direction of the woman. Spinning the knob, he opened the door, inviting a blast of cool air inside.
Delicate sunlight haloed her face. “Jack?” Her expression displayed astonishment.
He didn’t respond. His palm rested onto the entrance’s edge as he struggled to attain some recognition. She obviously knew him, though he had no idea who this lovely lady was.
She put a hand directly below her neck and double patted the top of her chest. “It me, Jack. Katherine Drapier. Aaron’s sister, remember?”
Jack took two steps back, clutching the jam to keep from losing his balance.
He was sure his mouth plunged to the ground as he gawked the tall, slender woman. She wore faded, but expensive looking jeans that tapered down her long legs. Wavy, chestnut hair flowed over her shoulders, shimmering from the sun’s muted glow. The only feature that resembled the girl he once knew was the golden gaze staring back at him.