Out of Circulation (Hemlock Creek Suspense Book 1) by Heather Day Gilbert Page A

nearly clobbered her head on the dashboard.
    "Take it easy," he said, gently pushing her head down again. "You nearly passed out. I'm going to find something to drink for you."
    He seemed to know where he was going, whipping around the winding mountain roads like a native. Good thing she didn't get car-sick, like Molly. Pulling into the Wendy's drive-through, Ace barked orders for four waters. At the next window, he practically threw a twenty-dollar bill at them, then grabbed the bottles and passed one to her. She eased into a sitting position.
    "Drink this, slowly. And breathe deep," he said.
    She did as told and started to feel a bit refreshed. Not to mention, utterly humiliated. She was so weak.
    "I'm so sorry—" she started.
    "Don't apologize. It was my fault. Paid too much attention to my phone call and not enough to you."
    "Who was it?" Why did she feel the need to pry?
    "My boss." He didn't elaborate, just sucked down half his water bottle.
    "So sorry—I'll bet you need to head on back to New York. And here you are stuck in West Virginia." She should dip into her savings to help Mom pay him for his services.
    He took another gulp of water and turned to her. Those blue eyes pulled her in, like specks of ocean in land-locked Hemlock Creek. He stretched out a hand and cupped her cheek.
    "You have more color. That's good. I didn't realize you had so many freckles until you blanched out back there." He gave her a half-smile. "Let's go back to the building and finish up. You're a trooper for doing this, especially when we're getting nowhere." His voice roughened. "And by the way, you have a habit of apologizing for things you don't have any control over. I don't want you ever to apologize to me again."
    "Never?" She grinned. "Must mean I'm perfect."
    He gazed at her just a second too long. "It's not that much of a stretch."
     
    ****
     
    This was getting too stupid. How dare his boss call him in the middle of the day, knowing he was probably with Katie? Not only that, but he had simply repeated his earlier threats, as if those hadn't come through loud and clear with the last call.
    Katie was a trooper, going back into the storage building. The relentless heat had completely plastered his oxford shirt to his back, forcing him to strip down to his T-shirt.
    And for what? A search for money that probably wasn't there.
    Now they'd taken another half-hour to rummage through the remainder of Sean's boxes and even his T-shirt was soaked. Katie looked okay but was still peaked, even as she sipped at her water. He needed to get her out of here.
    He stretched and made a proclamation. "That's enough. We've been through every box. There's nothing to find here."
    She handed him the building keys in an exhausted silence, then limped out to the car. He followed, turning on the engine so she could sit in the air-conditioning while he locked up.
    She was speaking on the phone when he returned. She wrapped up her conversation, turned off the phone, and explained. "I called Reba. She's hanging in there, but she's closing the library for the rest of the week. So we can take our time checking Dad's boat. Thanks so much for doing all this." She smiled, at first hesitantly, then that blinding-wide smile that made him feel like a hero.
    Couldn't be further from the truth. Her hero was a villain.
     
    ****
     
    Dad had been a member of the Sutton Lake Marina since Katie had turned twelve. His Cabin Cruiser boat, the Vixen , was the one thing he had splurged on for himself with his earnings. At least she hoped it had been his earnings.
    She treasured memories of summer nights she'd camped on the deck in her sleeping bag, picking out constellations as the boat lightly bobbed beneath her. Back then, she'd felt like she could do anything, be anyone.
    After her accident, she'd stopped visiting the Vixen , mostly because she felt off balance and feared she'd pitch overboard like a klutz.
    Again. Fear. She had begun to see it for what it was, to name it.