Secrets in a Still Life by Kari Ganske (mobi ebook reader .txt) 📕

"I hope so. Sounds like you handled yourself pretty well in there, Sexy Lexi," he said.

I sniffled again. "I guess. How did I even end up in this mess?"

"I don't know, Alex. But I'm going to help you get out of it."

I leaned back a little to look up at him. "You said you were done helping me. That I should leave it to the police and stay out of it."

"I know what I said." His jaw clenched and unclenched a few times. "But that was before Chief Duncan made it clear he wasn't actually investigating the murder. He's trying to fit the evidence to pin it on you."

"Detective Spaulding seems competent," I said.

Linc's jaw clenched again. "I don't trust that guy either. He seems all nice and unassuming, but he's smart. Don't trust him too much, Alex. Good cop, bad cop is a tactic because it works."

"I saw Kelly in Chief Duncan's office when I walked past tonight," I told him. I put my head back in the crook of his arm. For being so muscley, he was pretty comfortable. I could feel the weight of the day dragging me down. I was exhausted.

"They searched her salon and her house," he said. "Joy and Andrea were talking about it while I waited for you. I got the impression they weren't trying to keep their voices down."

I stifled a yawn. "Did they find anything?"

"Not yet. If the scissors were from the salon, the killer didn't return them."

"Smart. I wouldn't return them either. I'd probably chuck them into the reservoir," I said, already half-asleep.

"You must be tired. Rest a little while. I'll wake you for some dinner later," he said.

I fell asleep with Linc stroking my hair.

Chapter 27

Another morning; another rooster crowing. I rubbed my eyes—still a bit swollen from my crying jag and lack of sleep—then rolled out of bed. Nugget, my adopted chicken, would be pecking at the door soon for her morning snack. I shuffled sleepily to the kitchen to grab the bag of bread.

A movement out of the corner of my eye had me climbing the countertop. I forced my tired eyes to focus, then let out a sigh. Linc was draped over my couch fast asleep. His long frame did not even remotely fit on the Nana K-sized couch. He had one arm across his forehead, the other dangled onto the floor. One of his long legs hooked around the back of the couch while the other was bent and resting mostly on the cushions. His knee protruded off the side. He'd grabbed one of the extra pillows from my bed to tuck under his head.

My eyes went wide. I looked down at my threadbare He-Man T-shirt that I used for pajamas. I had not been wearing this when I fell asleep last night. I ran my hands over my body, breathing a sigh of relief when I realized I still had on my bra and camisole that I'd been wearing yesterday. And a pair of shorts.

Had Linc changed me? I certainly had no memory of putting on my pajamas. I looked back over at him. In sleep he more closely resembled the boy I once knew. I tiptoed back to the bedroom to get my camera.

Was it intrusive to take pictures of someone sleeping?

Probably. Did I care right now?

Not really. He'd seen me cry last night, so I could take his picture this morning. Equal opportunity vulnerability.

I changed the settings to silent shutter, set my exposure for the dim morning light, and framed the shot. One wide-angle to set the scene—large man on a small couch. With the flowers he gave me on the mantel in the background.

I moved in closer for some details: the ropy muscle of his bicep, his enviably long eyelashes resting on his cheek, the curve of his foot dangling behind the couch. As the light began to warm the room, I got down low to capture the rim light wrapping around his body, casting him in an almost silhouette. I moved in again to get another close-up of his face, this time focused on his lips slightly open as he breathed softly. I snapped the shot, switched angles, and got ready to take another.

"What are you doing?" Linc's gravelly voice made me lose my balance and fall backward on my dupa.

I immediately put up my defenses, then saw the characteristic amused smirk playing on his lips. The eye that wasn't covered by his arm winked open to stare at me sprawled on the floor clearly holding my camera.

"I'm knitting a sweater," I answered.

"Weird place to knit." He unfolded himself from the tiny couch and groaned as he stretched out his muscles. "You need a new couch."

"I wasn't expecting overnight guests so soon."

He shrugged. "I didn't want to leave you so upset. Then it got really late, and I was tired."

"Thanks for putting me to bed," I said quietly, suddenly shy. Something about saying "bed" to Linc made me blush from my toes to my nose.

"I can think of one way you can thank me," he said, raising on eyebrow.

I gaped at him.

He chuckled and said, "With breakfast. What did you think I meant?"

I pursed my lips at him. "I don't have much in the way of food. It's hard to get out to shop when I don't have a car."

"I'm not picky."

"Then help yourself to whatever you can find. I'm gonna put my camera away."

I walked back toward my bedroom.

He called, "I'm going to want to see those pictures."

"Over my dead body," I mumbled. Sometimes photographs revealed secrets about the subject. Other times they revealed more about the photographer. I feared this series of Linc sleeping would be