quirks that he tucked away in his mind.
“What do I do, then?”
“You could get a cage and some feed and…”
“I don’t do roommates, Sheriff,” she said. “Especially furry ones that aren’t house-trained and eat trash.”
No roommates? He added that to his list. “I’ll take care of it,” he offered.
Her expression brightened just as the reflection of sunlight filtered inside, painting her shoulder-length brunette hair with auburn highlights.
“You’re going to take care of it?” Savannah fairly gasped. “As in, a favor?”
Seth shrugged. “Sure. I’ll run him out to the Bronco for now so we can talk, and take him to the Lucky 7 on my way back to the office.”
“You’re taking him to your ranch? As a pet for Kevin?”
Seth blinked and Savannah blushed.
He allowed his mouth to curve into a slow grin. “Been checking up on me Miss Wyatt?”
Her lips pursed momentarily. “No,” she insisted firmly. “Working part-time at Olive’s Attic, I meet people. People tend to gossip about the richest family in town. By the way, how is Callie feeling?”
“Fine,” Seth answered, hiding his disappointment. He wished she would show half the interest in him that she did on his brother Sam and Sam’s expectant wife, Callie. Even before the first murder, he’d felt as if he were invisible to Savannah. He didn’t like that feeling. Not at all.
“She’ll tell you she feels like a whale, but I think pregnancy agrees with her.”
He watched as something flashed in Savannah’s kaleidoscope eyes. It wasn’t long enough for him to get a read, so he had nothing to add to his list but a suspicion that babies, pregnancies, family—something along those lines—made her react, even if she was a master at hiding most of her reactions. Maybe today, with the new development, her facade would crumble.
After Seth had taken the mouse out to his car, he returned, walking in without knocking. That didn’t seem to bother Savannah. She was standing in the living area, between a sofa covered with various warm throws and a coffee table made out of what looked like a portion of a wooden feed trough with a custom-cut glass top. When he took a second to glance around, he realized her place was homey in a funky, New Yorkish way. She had the usual stuff, living room, dining room and kitchen furnishings. But it was what she didn’t have that tweaked his imagination. No photographs, nothing really personal in view. It was as if she hadn’t existed until this cabin, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He’d checked. Savannah was a transfer doctoral candidate from the University of Maryland. The dean of students at Montana West had verified all her paperwork and transfer credits.
“Should I make coffee?”
“Should you?” Seth countered.
She stiffened, “I was offering.”
Seth smiled. “No, an offer is, ‘May I make you some coffee?’”
Reluctantly, she smiled, as well. “Fine. May I make some coffee?”
“Please.”
As she took down a grinder and retrieved a bag of whole beans, she asked, “Are you the resident grammar fairy? If so, you’re welcome to critique my thesis. If I ever get it finished.”
“I’m not a grammar anything. My momma just insisted that all her boys be polite, especially to women.” He let that sink in for a minute, then said, “Your thesis is on forensic psychology, right?”
Savannah turned and gave him a cool smile. “I keep forgetting that after Richard was killed, you investigated every aspect of my life.”
“It’s my job,” Seth said somberly.
“If you’re not here to arrest me for Richard’s murder, would you kindly take an ad out in the town paper proclaiming my innocence? I’ve found Jasper a little slow to warm to outsiders, and labeling me a murder suspect isn’t helping.”
“I’m not here about Richard’s murder.”
That got Savannah’s attention. “Since I didn’t call 911 about the mouse, what brings you out this way?”
“Harvey Whitlock.”
He watched and saw only a trace of boredom in her expression at the mention of his name.
“Sells real estate and is big on punctuality,” Savannah supplied easily. “I was supposed to meet him at nine and I believe I was about ten minutes late because I was helping a customer at Olive’s.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“At the Mountainview Inn. Why?” Suspicion and trepidation had crept into her voice.
“Your idea?”
“No,” she answered, less open than before. “Olive Baumgartner set it up as a blind date. She can’t stand the fact that—her words—I’m ‘on the ugly side of thirty and don’t have any marriage prospects.’”
Seth smiled. Olive had arranged a date or two for nearly every single person of marriageable age in Jasper. Everyone except her precious Junior. Apparently she had no intention of letting go of her son. Not since Junior became the man of the house at the age of thirteen when Frederick, Sr. died in a hunting accident.
“So, your date with Harvey was just like your date with Richard?”
“Yes. Are you the dating police?” she asked with slight amusement. “If only you knew how ludicrous that was. You think I killed Richard so now you’re going to keep track of all my dates?”
“Something like that,” Seth answered.
“I’ll save you some time. Harvey and I had dinner. He had the beef, I had the salmon. He had two drinks, I had a club soda and a cup of decaf.”
“What did the two of you talk about?”
She rolled her eyes and a mischievous little grin curved her inviting lips. “Whether we should have sex right there in the restaurant, or go back to his place.”
Seth felt his jaw clench. “What did you decide?”
“Neither. I was making a joke,” she said, laughingly.
He felt the sound of her laughter deep in the pit of his stomach.
“We talked a lot about real estate. Harvey thinks I should buy rather than rent for the tax advantages. If I give him copies of my financial records, he will see about getting me qualified for that modest, gray clapboard house out on 141.”
“That’s a nice property. It comes with a dozen or so acres.”
“Well, I’m really not into buying homes right now and I told Harvey that.”
“What happened afterward?”
