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turn in their seats.  “He was in here, oh, must have been a few days back.  Almost got in a fight with those boys over yonder.”  She flicked a hand toward the teens.

Josh’s boot slipped off the foot rail as he straightened in disbelief.  Holy crap. Copeland had been on the money.

“They was calling him names, and snickering, being disrespectful, just like I said.  Man can’t help the face God gave him, I always say.”  She tapped her finger on the flyer.  “Well this one, he was having none of that.  He would have torn a strip off their hides, if not for his buddy.”

Josh’s heart beat double time.  “His buddy?” he prompted.

“Yes’sum.  A real swell-looking blond fellow.  Bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.  Well, exceptin’ for yours, honey.”

Josh ignored that and grabbed Sally’s fingers.  “If I came in here with my sketch pad, or you came down to the station, do you think you’d be able to describe what he looked like?” He knew the diner didn’t have a security camera.

“I’m sure I could. But if you want another opinion, you should ask Ted.”  She gestured toward the long-haired teen currently demonstrating his spit-wad shooting prowess.  “He got a real good look at that other man.  Made Ted just about run right out the door.”

CLAY’S cell phone jangled, and Kim smirked as he slid it from his pocket.

He supposed every time the phone rang from now on he’d have visions of red condoms dancing in his head like so many X-rated sugarplums.

Pausing under the meager shade of a large oleander, Clay wiped the trickle of sweat that slipped down his neck.  “Copeland,” he said on a sigh.

“You were right,” an excited voice gushed.  “Holy crap, you were totally right.”

It took him a moment to place the voice as Harding’s, another to translate what he meant.  “You had some luck?” he hazarded a guess.  Damn, but it was hot.

“The albino composite did it.  I showed it at a local diner, and some people there remember seeing our perp.  He almost got in a fight with a group of kids, just like you said he’d be inclined to. And the really spectacular part of this is that they also remember the man he was with.  I’ve got at least two witnesses who can help with a composite.  I thought you and Agent O’Connell might like to interview them, so they can tell you what they remember.”

Well holy crap, Joshua.  That was indeed exciting news.  Clay hadn’t expected it so soon.

“We might have a visual on the albino’s partner,” he told Kim, hand covering the phone’s receiver.

Kim made the facial equivalent of holy crap, giving him two thumbs up.

“Okay,” he told Josh.  “Agent O’Connell and I are on our way to the station.  Are you in route with the witnesses?”

“My ETA is about twenty minutes.  I’ll meet you there.”

“Right.  See you then.  And Harding?” he said before hanging up.  “Nice work.”

 

IT was late when they finished the interviews, after factoring in waiting around for Spitball Ted’s parents and sitting through an endless litany of Sally Huggins’ stories.

Josh Harding had apparently been an adorable, well-mannered child.

Who would have guessed?

Clay dropped Kim at her hotel room, and felt like a shit as he considered dialing Tate for the umpteenth time.

He’d called once, at six o’clock, to say he was still working.

And again, at seven, to say the same.

He knew that Max couldn’t wait forever to eat, so at eight he’d told her to go ahead and feed him. Twenty-four hours into their official relationship, and he was already destined to disappoint her.  He should probably just head back to Justin’s and spare them both the pain of facing that awkward truth. She’d tell him that it was really no problem, but there would be hurt and a little resentment in her eyes.  She’d probably pout.

Withhold sex.

Send off all those behavioral clues women used to indicate you’d displeased them.

He’d apologize again – although he already had, profusely – and then feel defensive and slightly hunted that he’d been required to do so.

The whole situation was just a disaster waiting to happen.

Nevertheless, he pulled into the parking lot behind the B&B.  Luckily, he’d had the foresight this time to bring a change of clothing, just in case Tate let him spend the night.  And provided he decided to stay.

Who was he kidding?

The second she blinked at him he’d fall headfirst into her bed.

Disaster or not, he just couldn’t seem to keep this from happening.

Gathering up his duffle, he locked his Glock in the glove box and set the alarm before heading inside, as curious little boys and weapons did not a good mix make.

He wondered if the little guy was sleeping.  It had to be past his bedtime.  Feeling a rush of disappointment for that missed fast food dinner, he climbed the step to the back stoop and knocked gently, hoping Tate would hear him.

A few moments later, the door swung open, and he was enveloped in sweet-smelling female.  Peaches, he thought, unable to stop himself from burying his face in her hair.  And when she took his hand, pulling him inside, he waited for the recriminations.

“You must be totally starving. And I know you have to be exhausted from working so late.  I take it things went well today?”

“We had a good lead come in,” he told her, listening for the other shoe to drop.  For the hints that she’d grown tired of waiting, that she was upset with him for letting down Max.

“That’s great,” she told him instead, squeezing his fingers in her soft hand.  “Any word yet on locating Casey?”

“Nothing positive. But we’re a good bit closer to identifying her abductor.  The composite really helped.”

In fact, if it hadn’t been for Tate, this entire investigation wouldn’t be happening.  If she hadn’t seen that man talking to Casey, the girl’s disappearance wouldn’t have been given the attention it deserved, and he never would have put the observations he’d made earlier that day into

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