Secrets in a Small Town by Kimberly Van Meter

everyone looking for her. She’ll turn up. In the meantime, you get to stay with me. You think that’s all right?”
    Quinn’s eyes watered. “I want my mama.”
    “I know you do. And as soon as we can we’ll get things figured out. But until then, you’re stuck with me, okay?”
    “Okay,” she answered, her bottom lip quivering so much it nearly did him in. “Thanks, Owen, for coming to get me.”
    “You bet, sweetheart. You can always count on me.”
    She nodded and swallowed what was probably a lump of sadness and fear and he was struck by her bravery. This kid was something else.
    But he had a bad feeling about Gretchen.
    He hoped to God he was wrong.





CHAPTER SIX
    P IPER’S MIND WHIRRED faster than a CD-ROM drive as one single thought ran through her head like a ticker-tape parade: she’d finally wrangled an interview with the elusive and extremely private Owen Garrett. She’d overlook the part where she’d used extortion to get it.
    By the time she reached her house, she already had a list of questions zooming through her head. Piper grabbed a notepad—she always had extras lying around for when her brain kicked in and couldn’t wait—and jotted down her erratic and fevered thoughts.
    How much did he remember from that day, she wondered. He’d been a kid. But sometimes a traumatic event seared itself into a person’s brain, clarifying and crystallizing the event until it was impossible to forget. She figured watching your father get gunned down in a hail of bullets was enough to traumatize an adult, let alone an eleven-year-old boy.
    She tried to imagine Owen as a kid, a serious, tow-headed child with solemn eyes and a mischievous glint that flashed now and then when he thought no one would notice, and her mouth flirted with a smile. He’d probably been a damn cute little kid. Figures, because he’d grown into a pretty good-looking adult.
    And why didn’t such an eligible bachelor have a missus attached to him? There had to be something wrong with him, possibly something deep and dark and maybe, perverted.
    She toyed with the idea. Owen a pervert? She supposed it was possible. But even as she bandied the idea about, testing the theory, she discarded it with distaste. No. He may be a lot of things but she didn’t get the pervie vibe from him.
    No, she got a distinctly different vibe from him and it made her shudder and made her think of topics that were inappropriate—and highly unlikely—given their current relationship.
    She wondered what he looked like without a shirt. He had the build of a man accustomed to hard work. Big, strong hands, roughened from handling axes, saws and power tools. She moistened her lips and noted her heart rate had kicked up a bit. Oh, goody. Attraction. She recognized it for what it was. She grew up with two professors of anthropology. Dissecting human emotion was something they used to do over dinner. So why did she feel warm and fuzzy and just a bit uncomfortable?
    Because she was on the threshold of something big, she reasoned. Finally, she was going to sit down and pick his brain.
    And she might just be able to find the clue she needed to bust the case wide-open like never before.
    And yes, grandiose music played in the theater of her mind as she envisioned that particular dream.
    She laughed, her mood lightened considerably, and she almost skipped to bed, eager for the morning.

    I F P IPER DRIFTED TO SLEEP with a smile, Owen did the exact opposite.
    Now he had two problems. By agreeing to talk with Piper, he was opening himself to a whole new world of grief. There was no telling as to her true agenda. She played a good game about hearing his side of things but he didn’t trust the way her eyes had glittered with barely contained excitement when he’d agreed. It’d put him on edge, worse than he already was. And if that weren’t bad enough, the situation with Gretchen had him in knots.
    The cops still hadn’t located that worthless SOB, which meant