Introduction

After accidentally treating her in-laws to a peep show upon their first meeting, and having a catfight with her husband’s vengeful ex, legal investigator Sara Townley hopes her next assignment is a simple one. So she takes on a case of stolen identity—that finds her in a seedy back street. Then Sara narrowly escapes becoming a casualty—a fate awaiting her one and only witness. In the meantime, Sara seems to have picked up a sidekick: a big, black Labrador who shows up at every turn. And since her only lead is growing cold in the morgue, maybe following the dog’s nose isn’t such a bad idea.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

'Forty-seven minutes to naked.'

I looked at the text message again. I'd never been the sort to turn my cell phone on the second an airplane landed but then again, my messages were getting better. At least my propositions weren't coming from strangers anymore. I caught my seat mate glancing at my screen. She was a grandmother in a housedress who'd spent the journey from Seattle showing me pictures of gap-toothed adolescents and waxing rhapsodic over their amazing achievements.

“Porn,” said grandma, sighing. “I miss it.”

I tried to cover my choke with a cough and reached for my carry-on.

'Where?' I typed, lining up in the airplane aisle behind the harried parents of screaming twin toddlers.

'Anywhere?'

I shook my head and tapped. 'Where R U?'

'Security.'

'Safe sex?'

'Flirt!'

'U started.'

I shuffled off the airplane and into the terminal. The airport was bright, the tinted windows blocking the brutal glare of the San Diego sun. I walked beside the moving escalator, too impatient to stand and wait to be transported. I saw Connor through the plexiglass at security, the sun streaming behind him giving him a sort of halo effect. I might not know him well, quickie wedding and all, but I suspected my husband's angelic glow was a lie. As if to prove me right, he looked up from his cell phone to watch a 20-something Lucille Ball in a tight, short dress walk by him. I snapped my phone closed and moved past the checkpoint.

“I can come back if you're having a guy moment,” I drawled.

Man he looked good. Really good. A clad Michelangelo with a Navy haircut. I tried to smooth my hair. No man should look that good when static electricity was turning me into a jeans wearing Medusa. He grinned. Amused. Fine. I'd just be cool. Oh what the heck. Amused could be done naked.

Connor pushed a loose curl behind my ear then kissed the skin beneath my lobe and whispered, “Forty-three.” He grabbed my hand and steamrolled toward baggage claim.

“I'm sorry, Commander, but this trip is official business and the law firm of Abercroft, Hamilton and Sterns does not finance booty calls. It's against our expense policy.”

He leaned closer. “Forty-two.”

“That's it?” I asked, half-running to keep up. “I don't see you for three weeks, fly for hours behind hyperactive five-year olds and I all I get is a peck? I must look really bad.”

He stopped. Turned. Let his eyes wander from the top of my head to my toes then back up, stopping at his favorite parts.

“Or not,” I said weakly, covering my cheek with my hand.

“Not.” He started pulling me again but I baulked under the baggage claim sign.

“Um, Connor?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn't actually check any luggage.” I half-turned, showing the carry-on bag I had draped over one shoulder.

“That's it?”

“Yep.”

“One overnight bag for a week?”

“Well, um, yeah,” I shrugged.

“You are the weirdest woman. But I like that. One suitcase. Thirty-eight.” He took my bag and herded me out the door into the bright sunshine.

“Because I can fit my jammies in one suitcase?”

“You're not going to need pajamas.”

An older woman in a grey suit looked over her shoulder at us, silver eyebrows raised. What was this, shock a senior day?

He stopped next to a convertible. Black. I couldn't help smiling. Honestly, sometimes the guy thought he was James Bond. The convertible was at short term parking which was half the distance and twice the price. Money well spent. He tossed my case into the car before backing me up against the hot metal and really kissing me hello. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Connor could kiss.

“Get a room.” An old guy muttered as he climbed into a Buick in the next slot.

“Great idea.” He whispered, reaching behind me to open the door.

“You are a bad influence,” I slid into the passenger seat, fanning my face with one hand. “But we have a great car.”

“We?” he asked, getting behind the wheel and reaching across me. I felt the tingle slide all the way down my spine. I swatted at his hand but he just opened the glove compartment and took out the parking ticket, holding it up for me to see with his most innocent expression. An angel he was not.

“We. California is a community property state. I never thought I'd own even half a BMW.” I looked over at him. “Impressive as it is, if you stole this car I never saw you before.”

The engine roared to life and Connor drove toward the exit. He moved his hand to my thigh and I could feel his heat through the denim. I gave him my best what-are-you-up-to look, like I didn't know, but didn't move his hand. This flirting thing was fun.

“What's the new case about?” He yelled over the rush of sound. Once in fifth gear on the freeway, he returned his hand to my thigh, migrating just a little north.

“Fraud. One of those identity theft things.” I yelled back, stroking the back of his hand. “Except that my thief is bolder than most.”

“Bolder?” He slid his fingers up two inches of denim.

I pushed him back to the relative sanity of my knee. Crashing wouldn't be good here. “Yeah, bolder. My guy isn't just in it for the money. He wants the fame, the attention, the invite to the swankiest parties in town.”

“I'd pretend to be somebody else to get out of one of those things.”

“I bet you look great in a tux. Sort of James Bond-ish.”

“I'd look like a waiter.”

“Well, a waiter in a nice restaurant, anyway,” I laughed.

Weren't we the normal married couple? Recently married, with the flirting and sexual tension, but normal. From the outside anyway. So what that we got married after knowing each other less than a week. So what that “knowing each other” was mostly biblical even then. Or that the same could be said of the fifteen or so days we'd spent together in the six months since we'd been married. We didn't fight about money or sex but that was probably a good deviation from the norm. We did fight about my job as an investigator for a law firm but mostly because I'd nearly gotten myself killed on a missing pet case. What were the chances that would happen again? I rubbed my wedding ring with my thumb. I even had the outward trappings of a run-of-the-mill wife. Normal.

Except that half the time it felt like I was pretending to be married and Connor was just a figment of my imagination. A very good, very vibrant imagination but make-believe nevertheless. If this were my version of normal, there would be a lot more panic. Hyperventilation and hand-wringing followed by drunken excuses and annulment. What the heck? If I was going to hallucinate a hot husband, a hot car and the promise of hot sex, I might as well enjoy it.

“Or you could wear your uniform,” I suggested. “Sort of a blonde Tom Cruise. Now, he's cute.”

He squeezed my leg and I squirmed with a laugh. Now he knew I was ticklish. Another late to the party discovery.

“He's short. Besides, you wouldn't throw me over for a midget actor in an ice cream suit, would you?”

“I would if he'd give me a deal on chocolate, chocolate chip. Men are great, but they're not dessert.”

He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers, then my palm. “Depends.”

I curled my fingers over the spot. “Watch the road.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“So anyway…my identity thief gave this interview to some right wing radio guy all about how he had amnesia for years and wandered around homeless. Then, one day, he just woke up and remembered who he was.”

“Rich and famous. That's handy,” He said, pulling onto the San Diego-Coronado Bay Bridge. I grabbed at his arm, craning for a better look at the view.

“Amazing.” I leaned back in my seat. “What? Oh, yeah. He remembered he was rich. Not so famous, though. My guy, the real guy, he's practically a hermit. Makes Howard Hughes look like a party-animal which is why John Doe, that's what I call my mystery man, why John needed to do interviews. He wanted to raise his profile. Become Time's Man of the Year.”

“Gutsy,” he said.

“Maybe but definitely not genius material. Still, he did me a solid. The bank who hired us was freaked out enough to send me down here on their dime. They pre-approved a week although that might have more to do with me not having to stay in a hotel. I have to work, of course, but I figure with you working during the day it'll be fine. I might not be able to keep it to the nine to five but we'll have some time together.”

“We could afford you coming down whenever you want, Sara.”

“This is better. Besides, I don't have much vacation time saved up. Prestigious law firms do not allow their serfs out of work often. It gives them ideas.”

Connor touched my cheek. “I've got some ideas myself about that.”

We were pulling onto Orange Drive, heading toward the Hotel del Coronado. I wanted to go see the old hotel, maybe check out the ghost stories. I looked at Connor. Maybe we'd do that later. It was weird. I never thought of myself as half of a couple before. Planning little adventures for the two of us. It was amazing how quickly I was adjusting to this new two-person configuration. Connor pulled in front of a condo, parking in a red zone. Apparently, he was also seeing some advantages in the relationship. I smirked.

“Welcome home, Mrs. McNamara,” he said.

I giggled. He yanked my suitcase off the back seat and sprinted around the car. We laughed and chased into the building, stopping for a mind-blowing kiss just inside the door. Seven floors in the sluggish elevator and he had my shirt mostly unbuttoned, sending tingles down my back. Ten floors and we could have been arrested.

His apartment was at the end of the hall. We kissed and touched and he fumbled with his keys. I leaned back against the door pulling him closer into me as the door collapsed behind me. I grabbed for him to keep from falling backward.

“You must be Sara.”

Connor pushing me behind him with enough force to have me stumbling, grabbing for my open shirt. I struggled with the buttons, peering around his shoulder to gape at the intruder.

“Either that or you got some 'splaining to do, Lucy.”

A younger, darker version of Connor waggled his eyebrows at me. I stood horrified as the Norman Rockwell portrait of mother, father, brother and sister stood framed in the open doorway, all assessing me and my state of undress. Oh my God. They had to be his family.

“You ever think of calling first?” Connor asked harshly, sexual frustration evident in his voice.

Great. Terrific. Now, not only was I seducing their first born in a public hallway, he was openly resenting his own family. Family. As in stuck for life relationships. I'd barely considered meeting his family. If I had, I wouldn't in my wildest, darkest, dreams have imagined this nightmare.

“I couldn't stop her,” Connor's father offered. “You know how your mother is when she gets an idea in her head.” He shrugged, turning up his hands and not seeming even a little embarrassed. “Ryan, Siobhan, come into the living room. You, too, Liss. Let's let them have a minute.”

His mother looked like a Madonna. All serene and unnerving. His sister seemed to share my mortification. Ryan gave me a leering wink before he turned away.

Grimacing, Connor looked at me. I kept one hand over my mouth to keep from retching. The other hand clutched my blouse closed. In the hallway.

“God, Sara, I'm really sorry. I didn't know they would be here. They don't usually drop in unannounced. They were probably just anxious to finally meet you.” He reached for me but I jumped away. His family. Naked. Hallway. God.

“It's okay,” I choked. They don't usually drop in? It was so not okay.

“I'm sorry.”

“No big deal. I just met my in-laws while stripping their eldest in a public area. At least, I assume that's who those people were. I mean, maybe they're just voyeuristic burglars or we interrupted the plumber fixing the sink." I concentrated on buttoning my blouse. Maybe he'd confirm one of my wild suggestions. Even a lie would be good here.

He shook his head.

"I'm sure I'll be able to look them in the face again. In about a hundred years.” I put more room between us, rubbing at my arms. When did it get so cold in this hallway? “Could you fix yourself?”

He looked down. His t-shirt was half-untucked and the top button of his jeans was undone. He looked…mauled.

“They know we're married, Sara.” He straightened his clothes.

“There's knowing and then there's knowing, Connor. This would be an overshare.” With a groan, I covered my face with my hands. A phone rang behind me as he tried to pull me into his arms but no way was I going for that.

“They're grown ups, babe. I don't think we've shocked them. Endangered, yes. Shocked, no.”

“Oh God,” I moaned.

“Uh, Sara?” The younger brother was back. “The phone's for you.”

Exactly five minutes too late for pre-mortification intervention. Timing was never my strong suit.

“Thank you.”

“I'm Ryan, the younger, smarter, better looking brother.” Ryan flashed dimples at me.

“Hi.”

“Hi. You're nothing like I was expecting.”

“Ryan, shut up.” Connor snapped. He moved to crowd his younger brother back toward the interior of the apartment but Ryan didn't budge.

“I'm not sure I want to know,” I said.

“No, it's good.”

“Why don't you take it in the bedroom, Sara?” Connor suggested as Ryan reached for my hand.

“Particularly since the hall has gotten so crowded,” Ryan choked.

“The phone. I meant the phone.” Connor pushed Ryan back.

Ryan grinned and shifted his weight to avoid being moved. With the green eyes, he could pass for the Cheshire Cat before disappearance. Well, if the cat had been a surfer dude. Connor was flushed, finally sharing my embarrassment. Served him right.

“I could distract the 'rents for you but you won't have time to get that shirt off a second time. Which is too bad because that's a sexy bra,” Ryan assured me.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Ryan, get the hell out,” Connor snapped, closing the door in his brother's face.

“Sara, this isn't as bad as it seems.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure it's every bit as bad as it seems.”

“I'll get rid of them.”

“Permanently?”

Connor looked shocked. “They live about ten minutes from here. Siobhan maybe a half hour. I could probably buy until tomorrow.”

At any time in the future, in a mere thirty minutes, his entire family could descend. Very convenient. “I was kidding.”

“I'll send them home. Then, when they come back you can meet them normally.”

I stared at him. Yes, please new in-laws, if you could just leave me with your sex-starved son and his misbuttoned jeans, I'll be ready to exchange personal chitchat over Dominoes some evening very soon. Honestly, for a smart guy…I took a deep breath.

“I'm going to answer the phone. If I'm lucky, it's an emergency that requires my immediate attention. If I'm really lucky, I'll fall and smack my head on a table lamp and wake up having lost my own identity.”

“Honey…”

“Don't honey me. Just,” I pointed toward the apartment. “Deal. I'll be right back.”

Connor opened the door and held it. I walked past him and toward the bedroom I could see at the end of the hall. I closed the door behind me and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sara.”

“Joe.” I sank down on the bed. At this moment, I wished I was in the office having this conversation with Joe over the wall of our shared cube. Even Abercroft, Hamilton and Sterns looked good compared to the family homestead complete with appalled in-laws. I wanted to blurt it all out but Joe and I didn't have that kind of relationship. Neurotic blathering I saved for my best friend Russ.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“You don't sound that good.”

“It's nothing.”

“O-kay. If you're sure.” That was the closest Joe had ever come to asking a personal question. I was touched.

“Really. It's fine. What's up?”

“You got a call. The receptionist misdialed and transferred it to me. It took a couple of minutes for me to figure out he really wanted you and by then I thought I should just try to get the information before his medication wore completely off.”

“What?”

“Think weird with a capital weird. Acted like deep throat.”

I was intrigued. Given the scut work that a new associate like Joe got to do for the firm, he was experienced with weird. If this guy was tripping his meter, he must have been odd indeed.

“His name is DeVries. I guess you called him. He wants to meet you tonight. 9:00 pm. He actually said come alone.”

Joe recited an address. I opened the bedside table for a pen. It was neat. Four paperbacks, all thrillers, a Sudoku book and a technical manual of some sort. I took out a pen and checked the bottom drawer. More manuals. No porn. No condoms. No little black book. Interesting. Did he clean them out before I came?

“I checked him out. I didn't have much time but I did do a background on this guy. He's nuts. Extreme right-wing, conspiracy theories and a criminal record.”

Oh brother. I should have done that before I'd left. Instead, my first call had been to Connor. It was a work trip and I had husband on the brain. Henry DeVries was just the guy who talked to the guy I was looking for, but if I'd been doing my job thoroughly, I would have done exactly what Joe did. And I would have had plenty of time to do more than scratch the surface.

“What kind of criminal record?” I asked.

“A lot of arrests. The most recent was inciting to riot. If you go back far enough, you get assaults and even a couple of domestic abuse arrests.”

“Convictions?” I asked. Not that it really mattered. Anybody who'd been arrested enough probably wasn't someone you should plan assignations with. I stroked the comforter. It felt like silk. Brown and blue stripes, masculine, but still silk. My brain flashed on Connor in this bed. His parents were probably thinking the same thing I was. Sara Townley is a sex fiend.

“Sara, listen, this guy was past it on the phone. A colorful past or even a public persona is one thing, crazy so you can't hide it is something else. I also checked the place. It's not the same address as the radio station. You should make sure this is a public place. Or better yet, take him with you.”

“Him?”

“The guy. The husband.”

“How do you know…”

“Russ has a big mouth. Take him with you.”

“I am perfectly capable of doing my job without him.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1.  Why does Elizabeth the Evil dislike Sara so much?  Do you agree with Cathy's psychological assessment of Liz' motives?
2.  Why does everyone in Stanfield originally dismiss Steven Blair's death as an accident? 
3.  How did Bjorn get the people of Stanfield to accept his as an outsider?
4.  Why is Russ bothered by Sara's attraction to Simon? 
5.  What is it about Simon's personality that attracts Sara to him in a way that is different from Connor?
6.  What's the difference between how Sara sees Moon Dance and how Mabel views the horse?  Why?
7.  In Sara's mind, what's the worst crime committed in Doggone?  Why?
8.  What should Sara do to make peace with Elizabeth?
 

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