Dream Weaver. Jenna Ryan

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Dream Weaver - Jenna  Ryan

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really. I’m sure it’s…” She opened the drawer, froze, closed it. “Nothing.”

      “That nothing sounded like a whole lot of something to me.” Chris pulled on the handle, peered inside. Then he looked at her. “You keep roses in with your underwear?”

      “One rose,” she corrected. “Long stemmed, white, with a sprig of baby’s breath.” She picked it up and stared. “It’s the fifth one I’ve gotten in the past month.”

      “I WHIPPED UP A BIG BATCH of chili and a pot of spaghetti sauce, divided them into servings and labeled the containers.” Eileen Crawford drew air pictures as she spoke. “They’re in the freezer. You can cook pasta, right? Of course you can. There’s fresh milk in the fridge, bread, vegetables and two big packages of cold cuts. Vacuum-sealed, so don’t open the second until the first one’s gone. I’ll be back on Tuesday to tidy up the bathrooms and such. Will you be all right until then?”

      Sometimes Johnny swore the woman was beamed from Mars to his doorstep twice a week as a test of earthling patience. Eileen had been cleaning houses for the residents of Blue Lake for twenty years. She was a heavyset woman with a faded Maine accent, curly blond hair and more nerve than anyone Johnny knew. And he knew or had known a great number of nervy people.

      But that was in another lifetime, another world, one he didn’t care to visit these days.

      He tried to ease the woman politely out the door. “Thanks, Eileen. I appreciate the food and the clean sheets.”

      She shifted her handbag to her other shoulder. “You’re just like my Zack when it comes to keeping house. Where clothing lands is where it stays. Has he been around to see you lately?”

      Johnny fixed a smile on his face and kept it there as he nudged her forward. “Not for a week or so.”

      “Well, Sheriff Frank’s been out of town. He belongs to some order of brethren or other and they convene every year at a big hotel, so Zack’s been pushed a bit more than usual. I think there was some function he had to attend in Woodstock today. It’s all go with you law enforcement types. Constantly busy.”

      How busy could one of two deputies be in a town with less than fifteen hundred year-round residents and the tourist traffic down to boaters, backpackers and fifty-five-plus couples?

      “I’m sure he’ll get some time off soon.”

      “When he does, you two should go bowling, or head over to the grill for a game of pool.” Eileen set a hand on her hip. “You’re so practical, the pair of you. All I want is one grandchild before I retire, and what does Zack do? He dates a tourist for two weeks, then drives her down to O’Hare and says goodbye. Doesn’t get her address, home or e-mail. I bet he never even thought to ask for her phone number.”

      “Maybe she wasn’t the right one.” They were almost at the door. “Move, Shannon,” he said to his curious Irish setter. “Eileen wants to leave.”

      The big dog barked and began sniffing the woman’s leg. She halted and rolled her eyes. “Doggie treats! I never gave them a thought. I’ll run some out here first thing tomorrow morning.”

      “Shannon likes soda crackers. She can snack on those instead.”

      “Crackers? My God, Johnny Grand, did you treat your wife like this?”

      Now it was Johnny’s turn to stare. “Excuse me?”

      She strengthened her grip on her shoulder strap. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I just can’t help wondering why a couple as lovely as you and Meliana broke apart. Your wife’s a skilled surgeon, and yet she bandaged more knees and treated more stings and bites whenever she came up here than Dr. Fell—rest his soul—did in all his time on the lake. The woman’s an angel.”

      Wanna bet? Johnny thought with equal parts humor and regret. “She has her moments,” he agreed.

      “How did you meet?”

      Oh, no, she was settling in. “It’s a long story, really long. I’ll tell you about it another time. Right now…” The phone rang behind him.

      “I’m expecting a call,” he lied. “An important one.”

      She patted his arm. “You take it, then, and I’ll let myself out.”

      “Walk her to her car,” Johnny ordered Shannon in a low voice. He picked up. “Yeah, Grand here.”

      “I know you’re there, Grand, but you should be here.”

      Johnny waited until Eileen was out of earshot before turning away. “Julie? Why the hell are you calling me at—” he squinted at the burled wall clock that had come with the house “—eight at night?”

      “Your wife got a rose.”

      He watched as Eileen’s ’81 Taurus sedan rolled off. “What?”

      “Actually, she’s gotten five roses in four weeks. Long stemmed, white, from a—ha-ha—secret admirer. And those weren’t funny ha-ha’s.”

      Johnny sat on the arm of the sofa. “What were they?”

      “Worried. I take it your good buddy Chris didn’t call?”

      “About roses? No.”

      “Okay, here’s the deal. Someone tried to break in to your—her town house today around five. We thought the alarm scared the guy off. Everything looked okay inside. But later, after we’d left, Mel found a white rose in her lingerie drawer. It isn’t the first one she’s received. It is the first one that’s really violated her space. The other four didn’t involve a break-in. Also…” She took a breath and Johnny heard the faint shudder beneath it. “Some of her lingerie’s missing. She figures five or six pieces. One of them is that bustier thing she wore under her wedding dress—you know, the strapless bra slash corset slash garter belt number.”

      Johnny swore. “Did she call you?”

      “Yeah, but only this time. She didn’t mention the other four flowers until today. Blackburn was with her when she opened the drawer, but I figured—and I was right—he’d be as likely to contact you as cut off his foot.”

      Johnny searched the low tables for his car keys. “What are you doing about it?”

      “There’s not much we can do. We dusted for prints, but you know as well as I do we won’t find anything. We’ll also talk to her neighbors. So far, though, it seems like you bought into a complex where people mind their own business. Are you coming down?”

      “Yeah.” He checked under the sofa cushions for the keys. “Don’t tell Mel, okay?”

      “You know, I really hate it when people say that to me. She’s my friend, Johnny. She kept me from getting hysterical when I thought my mother was having a heart attack. Then she very calmly ran the tests and removed her gall bladder. I’ll give you two hours before I blab.”

      “You’re all heart, Jules.”

      He spotted his keys in a ceramic bowl beside the door, grabbed them along with his jacket and whistled for Shannon. “Do me another favor,

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