Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(8)

Screw it, she was hungry. She walked around and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

She fastened her seat belt, suddenly self-conscious about her filthy coveralls and dusty hair. Nolan pulled out of the lot quickly, and she looked at his hand on the steering wheel. No wedding ring, but she’d noticed that already.

He glanced at her.

“I talked to my assistant,” she said. “We’re all set for tomorrow.”

He nodded. “What can we do?”

“Keep people out of the park, mainly. Bone recovery sites tend to attract onlookers. And sometimes treasure hunters.”

“We’re on it. Tom barricaded the gates, and we’ve got officers patrolling tonight to make sure things stay quiet.”

“Good.” She only hoped Tom’s idea of a barricade was something more than a rusty chain.

“So, how’s it look so far? I assume we’re dealing with a homicide?”

“We shouldn’t jump to that conclusion,” she said.

“So . . . suicide? Accidental fall?” His voice was skeptical.

“Until we’ve done a full excavation, I won’t have sufficient evidence to make that determination.”

“But you’re experienced,” he said, clearly opting for flattery. “What’s your gut so far, based on what you’ve seen?”

“I don’t know yet,” she insisted. “I won’t have conclusive answers for you until I get the bones to the lab.”

He fell silent, as though letting it go. For now, at least. But his impatience was palpable.

She stole another glance at him. He had prominent cheekbones and a square jaw—an undeniably attractive combination. Some women swooned over big muscles, but Sara was a sucker for good bone structure.

Not that he was lacking in the muscles department. He had wide shoulders, and she liked the way his big hand rested casually on the gearshift. Simply driving his truck, the man exuded confidence.

He pulled into a gas station, and Sara immediately spotted the CLOSED sign posted on the door.

“Damn it,” she muttered. Was a day-old hot dog and a toothbrush too much to hope for?

Nolan parked and shoved open his door. “Come on.”

Sara slid from the truck as he walked over and tapped his knuckles on the door. A fiftyish woman in reading glasses looked up from behind the cash register, and Nolan gave her a wave. She walked around the counter to unlock the door.

“Evenin’, Mary Jo.”

“Nolan.” She smiled and held the door open. “Working late tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped inside, and Sara followed him into the air-conditioning. “Any chance you got some of that coffee?”

“I was just about to pitch it. Want me to make a fresh pot?”

“I’ll take whatever you got left. Mind if we have a look around?”

“Of course not.” She looked at Sara over her reading glasses. “Help you find anything, hon?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Sara turned down an aisle, leaving Nolan to chat up the shopkeeper as she looked for a few necessities. She found a travel toothbrush kit, a box of granola bars, and a cellophane-wrapped turkey sandwich. She’d skip the beverages and make do with the water she had back in her room.

Glancing over the row of shelves, she saw the shopkeeper was now deep in conversation with Nolan. The woman turned to look at Sara, and her serious expression let Sara know they were talking about the bone discovery. Springville was a small community, and the news was probably all over town by now.

Sara made her way to the front and set her items beside the register.

“It’s on the house,” the woman said with a wave.

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“I insist.” She looked at Nolan. “Y’all take care now. Say hi to your folks.”

“Thanks for the coffee.” Nolan nodded and lifted his cup as he pushed open the door.

“She didn’t have to do that,” Sara said as they walked to the pickup. Nolan went around and opened the passenger door—a display of manners that left her speechless.

“She wanted to,” he said. “She knows why you’re here, and she wants to help.”

“Still, I feel bad.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

They drove back to the motel, which was on the far west side of town, and Sara took in the view. All the storefronts were dark, which seemed unusual for a Saturday night.

Sara wasn’t used to small-town friendliness or gifts from strangers or men opening doors for her. But Nolan seemed at ease with all of it.

She looked at him. “Did you grow up here?”

He nodded. “Grew up, moved away, came back.”

“It’s a nice town. Quaint.”

He made a noncommittal sound.

“You don’t think so?”

“Looks can be deceiving.” He glanced at her. “Crime is on the rise. Meth labs, human trafficking, sexual assault. We’ve got everything.”

“Less than the city, at least.”

He lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment, and a silence settled over them. Sara looked out the window again, tearing her gaze away from him. Everything about him was so masculine, and she kept catching herself staring at his mouth, his neck, his hands. She had to stop it. She was here to work, not to flirt.