SHATTERED by Alice Sharpe Page B

think the newspaper editor of a small Nevada town could do about any of this?”
    “I don’t know, Nate. I have to admit I tuned him out after a while.”
    Nate nodded. The look in his eyes made her think that he, too, had occasionally tuned out her father’s ranting.
    “Okay, so you were going to go talk to him. Then what?”
    “I walked across the yard and found Dad’s front door open. That seemed really ominous because it was cold and snowing.” She paused again, catching her breath. “Dad was right where you found him. I’d never seen any dead person before, let alone someone I...I was close to, so I felt for a pulse, but I think I knew he was already gone. I also knew there was nothing I could do for him and that time was running out for me to save my— So, I...I started searching the house, you know, to see if he’d been robbed.”
    Nate cocked an eyebrow. “That’s why you searched the house?”
    She looked away and didn’t respond directly. “I found his computer was gone along with a notebook he used to jot things down. I looked to see if there was anything else missing, thought of the safe, and that’s where I was when I heard you arrive. You know the rest.”
    Nate shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact, I don’t know the rest. What are you looking for and why? Who are you trying to protect? Why are you lying about owning the car? What difference does it make?”
    Sarah leaned toward him, fighting the desire to lay her troubles before this near stranger.
    “You have to know how this is going to look to the cops when they’re finally notified,” he continued. “Your unwillingness to be up front concerning your father’s murder makes it look like you were in cahoots with someone and that someone killed your father and now you’re protecting him or her. Can’t you see that?”
    She stood up, the gun at the ready. The back of her nose ached with building pressure; her hands trembled. Of course she knew all this, and when he said how it would look to the cops, he meant how it looked to him because he was a cop. He didn’t believe her at all; he was just trying to get her to talk.
    “I can’t tell you anything else,” she said. “It’s not my information to share. I’m leaving now. Don’t try to stop me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
    Like a striking rattlesnake, he reached up and shoved the barrel of the gun downward with his right hand before twisting it out of her grip.
    He was suddenly standing in front of her, his face strained and shadowed. He set the rifle aside and clutched her upper arm with his good hand. “There’s a greater enemy than me running around, but you know that, don’t you?”
    “I could have killed you!” she cried, her whole body shaking now. “What kind of madman grabs a rifle that way?”
    “The kind who knows there’s no round in the chamber and bets there’s no more ammunition in the house,” he said. “The kind who is tired of whatever game you’re playing.”
    “It’s not a game,” she said.
    “Don’t tell me. Tell your dead father,” Nate responded.
    She raised her hand to slap him and he caught it. Before she could protest, he’d taken care of quieting her by pulling her closer and covering her lips with his. She attempted to wrench free, but his grip tightened, and then it relaxed and she knew she could tear herself away now, that he’d had a chance to think about his actions and probably regret them.
    But she didn’t budge.

Chapter Six
    For a moment, Nate lost track of time and place. Sarah had fought to get away for about two seconds, and then she’d melted against him. By the time they’d moved into a second kiss, he was as good as lost in a blizzard. There was nothing but the silky moistness of Sarah’s mouth, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest. Gradually, her arm encircled his neck and her fingers grazed his cheek. A dizzying flood of sensations bombarded his nervous system. He forgot about Mike’s murder,