for his shearling coat and shrugged it on.
Sam searched for his keys and finally found them on his desk, beneath the state accident report he’d started to fill out before Nora walked in. “Worse. Domestic disturbance,” he explained as Nora sauntered closer, her eyes glued to his. Sam grimaced, wishing he had time for another kiss, then continued explaining. “Clyde Redmond is down at the hardware store trying to buy a snow shovel, and his wife Charlene is there with him, pitching a fit.”
Nora blinked, still not understanding. She watched as he retrieved his Stetson and adjusted the brim low across his brow. “She has something against her husband shoveling snow?”
Sam nodded, explaining, “And with good reason, since Clyde had his first heart attack two months ago, doing just that.” He brushed a hand down her cheek, gave her one last lingering glance and strode out the door. “Hold down the fort here,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
THE DOOR BANGED behind Sam, leaving her very much alone.
Well, this was her chance to look around. And see if anything from her father had come in, Nora thought as she noticed a stack of recently received faxes in the tray.
Her heart pounding, Nora picked up the stack and quickly began to look through it. The first fax sought information on a young widow from Maryland and her baby. They’d allegedly gone out to run errands early that morning and never returned home, even after it began to snow. Her in-laws were frantic for information of any kind. Next was a report on a burglary ring operating out of Charleston, West Virginia, that had hit elegant homes and various businesses all over the state. Third, came a query about a schoolteacher and seven children who had never made it to the next destination of their field trip. Could they have had car trouble or been involved in an accident? the headmistress of the Peach Blossom Academy For Young Women wanted to know. If so, she asked that the school and the parents of the students, age 6 to 14, please be alerted ASAP. After that came a weather warning, stating that as of 4:00 p.m. that afternoon, all West Virginia freeways would be closed until further notice. On the bottom was what she had dreaded—a photo of herself in her wedding gown, and a faxed alert from Round The Clock Investigations, advising all law enforcement officials in the state to be on the lookout for Nora Hart-Kingsley.
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