Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(67)

Mike turned to give her the curdling look again, but this time it wasn't as acidic. "What makes you think I'd enjoy a movie like that?"

"I don't know." Hannah shrugged. "It just seemed like your thing, that's all."

"And what's my thing?"

"You know… the macho law man who can take on dozens of bad guys who are really bad shots with automatic weapons."

Mike threw back his head and laughed. "You've got those movies pegged. When the bad guys shoot, they never hit the hero. They just end up smashing everything that makes a lot of noise or looks really good on camera."

"I've noticed," Hannah said, also noticing that she'd managed to jolly Mike out of his bad mood. "That's the reason I like those movies. I watch to pick the plots apart and see how many mistakes I can find."

"Me, too. So which movie did you rent?"

Ten minutes later, Mike and Hannah sat on her couch, eating the microwave popcorn she'd made and laughing over the mistakes they caught in the movie. Hannah was cuddled up on one side of Mike, his arm around her shoulder, and Moishe was cuddled up on his other side, purring so loudly that they needed to turn up the volume. Hannah's attention was divided. Part of it was on Mike and how right it felt to be nestled close to his side in this cozy domestic situation. The other part was on the movie and the current scene, where the cop went into his dead daughter's room, unchanged since she'd died, and vowed to catch her killer.

"That's so strange," Hannah murmured, not realizing that she'd spoken aloud until Mike turned to her with a questioning look. "It's odd to keep someone's room just the way it was when they were alive. That's what Sheriff Grant did with Jamie's room."

Mike put the movie on pause and turned to her. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, Nettie mentioned it a while back," Hannah said, not saying that a while back had been as recent as a couple of days ago. "She said she wanted to clear out Jamie's room, but Sheriff Grant wouldn't let her give away any of his things."

"I noticed that when I searched the room. There was a three-year-old copy of the school paper sitting on the bed table and all Jamie's clothes were in the closet."

"So don't you think that's a little creepy? I mean, leaving everything just the way it was when his son was alive? If he wanted to use it for a home office, he should have cleared it out."

Mike shrugged. "People have their own time frame about things like that. It's a part of the grieving process. When my wife died, it was a full year before I gave away the clothes on her side of the closet and that was only because I got a bunch of new shirts and ran out of room. And I never did clear out her dresser. I still have it just the way it was."

"You mean here? In Lake Eden?"

"That's right. It looks nice in the guest room and I never have any company anyway. I keep it because I need to hold onto some tangible things from the past to remind me of how good life was back then."

Hannah fought back a quick stab of jealousy. Didn't Mike think that his life was good now? But it wasn't fair of her to be jealous, not when he'd been so completely honest with her. When they'd first started dating, Mike had told her that he was still grieving for his wife and that he wasn't ready for a commitment. And she had professed to understand.

"I can understand hanging onto keepsakes," Hannah said, "but I don't think Nettie grieved any less than Sheriff Grant when she wanted to give away Jamie's things and use his room for another purpose. Life goes on. People have to cope. It's an ongoing process."

"You're much more practical than I am. If I died tomorrow, you'd probably ditch the locket I gave you for Christmas, get rid of that picture we had taken at the county fair, and forget all about me."

"No way," Hannah said, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Even without any tangible reminders, I could never forget about you, Mike."

This led to a kiss, as Hannah had expected it might. And that kiss led to another kiss. Moishe yowled once in protest and then jumped off the couch in search of a more stable resting place. Hannah laughed and so did Mike. He'd just pulled her into his arms again when a series of rhythmic chimes caused him to groan and release her.

"Cell phone," Mike said, reaching for his jacket. "I told them to call if there was an emergency."

Hannah bit back her four-letter answer to Mike's explanation. He was a cop. Off-duty, or not. Involved in something else, or not. A cop had to answer when duty called.

"Hey, Shawna Lee," Mike said, and Hannah's ears perked up. A moment later, they went on full alert when he moved away from her toward the far end of the couch. "You're all finished then?"

Hannah glanced at the clock on top of the television set. It was past nine at night. Was Shawna Lee working this late at the sheriff's station?

"Don't worry about it. I told you to call when you were through. I'll be there in less than fifteen. Watch for me from the lobby."

Hannah didn't bother to smooth out her frown when Mike put the phone in his pocket and turned to her. A few moments ago, she'd been steaming with passion, but now she was just plain steaming.

"Shawna Lee said she'd stay at work until I got back from my date with you. Her car's not working right and I promised to give her a lift home."