She Can Hide (She Can #4)(15)

“No buts.” Brooke fished her keys from her bag. “Call me on my cell if you need anything.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Brooke’s eyes darted back and forth between Abby and the cop. “Bye, Ethan.”

Ethan waited for the sound of Brooke closing the front door behind her.

Uh-oh. They were alone.

Abby stood in the middle of her kitchen floor and studied her thick socks. Ethan had checked her police records this morning. Before moving to Pennsylvania a little over two years ago, Abby had lived and taught high school in a middle-class suburb in southern New Jersey. She’d never received as much as a parking ticket. She was thirty years old but looked as lost and vulnerable as a child.

Her eyes lifted to his. Hers were full of uncertainty. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure.” Ethan took off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. He stuffed his knit hat in his sleeve.

“I can’t seem to get warm.” She pulled a mug from the overhead cabinet.

“Me either.”

The dog settled at Abby’s feet, but his attention was on Ethan. “I’ve never seen a dog that big.”

“I didn’t know how big he was going to be when I adopted him from the pound. The woman who worked there was a little misleading with her estimate of Zeus’s age and size.” Abby poured coffee.

A wry smile softened her face. Their gazes met, the brown of her eyes warming. The heat that flared in Ethan’s body was significantly lower. She blinked in surprise. Yeah. Whoa. It was way too soon for that kind of reaction, and given the circumstances of his visit, inappropriate. What were they talking about? The dog. That was it. Thank God for the dog.

Ethan cleared his throat. “He seems like a great watchdog.”

“He’s a big baby.”

But the dog kept a wary watch on Ethan. He suspected if he made a move toward Abby, her baby would change its attitude.

Dog tags jingled. Zeus lifted his heavy head and stared at the back door. His tail thumped lightly on the floor. Ethan tracked his gaze. A skinny boy loped into the kitchen, eyes bright and cheeks red from the cold. Shaggy brown hair and cautious eyes, the kid skidded to a stop when he saw Ethan. An impassive mask slid over his happiness. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and he was dressed in a worn jacket that was not nearly warm enough for the middle of winter. His sock showed through a hole in the toe of his sneaker.

Abby stood. “Derek, this is Officer Hale.”

The kid shrank back and pokered up, wiping his expression as clean as an undisturbed snowdrift. But he couldn’t control the innate wariness in his eyes. Was he apprehensive of strangers or cops?

Ethan stood up and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Derek.”

The boy, who looked to be around ten, stared down at Ethan’s hand but made no move to accept the shake. Zeus shoved his body between them and broke the awkward tension.

“Derek lives next door.” Abby’s smile didn’t touch her eyes. “He’s my dog walker. He and Zeus are buddies.”

“What grade are you in, Derek?” Ethan shoved his left-hanging hand into his jacket pocket.

“Eighth,” Derek mumbled as he backed away.

“Did you need something?” Abby asked.

“Nothing important.” Derek jerked a cold-reddened thumb toward the back door. “I’ll catch you later.”

“OK,” Abby said in a too-bright voice.

With a quick nod, the kid bolted for the exit. Wet sneaker soles squeaked on hardwood, and the back door slammed.

The kid was small for an eighth-grader, Ethan thought. “Guess he isn’t a fan of cops.”

“Don’t take offense. He’s shy. He warmed up to Zeus long before he talked to me.”

But the forced ease in Abby’s voice put Ethan on guard. Something was up with her young neighbor. Her eyes shut down like emotional storm shutters. Any warmth he’d felt when they’d been discussing her dog earlier dissipated.

She was hiding something. The boy had troubles that Abby didn’t want Ethan to know about. Why not?

Abby poured two mugs of coffee. “Cream or sugar?”

“Black is fine. Thanks.”

She set two cups on the table and sat across from him. “I assume you’re here to discuss the accident?”

And the kid was officially removed from the discussion. “Yes. Have you remembered anything?”

“No.”

“I talked to your principal and a couple of your coworkers this morning. They all corroborated that you left immediately after school, but no one remembered anything useful.” Everyone had been concerned about Abby. Not one had complained about being disturbed on a Saturday morning. The kids and parents loved Abby. No one had anything negative to say about her. Everything he found out told him she was exactly what she appeared to be. It was only her attitude toward him that made him suspect otherwise. “I want you to give me a list of the places in town you frequent: your dry cleaner, coffee shop, anywhere you might have stopped between school and the park. Someone must have seen you.”

“I hope so.” Abby picked up her empty cup and went to the coffee machine. Why was she so reluctant to help him?

He should leave and let her get some rest. Instead, he stood and followed her to the counter and set his mug in the sink.