Witness by Susan Page Davis Page A

here.”
    Stenwick eyed her once more, then gave a curt nod and headed for his cruiser.
    “Good night, ma’am,” said Blake.
    Petra watched them from the doorway. They stopped for a moment between their cars and spoke in low tones. She reached up and savagely punched the button to close the garage door.
    She turned back into the kitchen and locked the door, blinking back tears.
    “What am I going to do?” she whispered.
    Mason tiptoed from his bed to her side and nuzzled her hand. She stroked his head absently.
    If they don’t arrest Rex Harwood, he’ll kill again someday. And I could be his next victim.
     
    At the gift shop’s Memorial Day grand opening, Joe entered the crowded store with caution. His eyes roved over the bustling scene. Keilah was at the cash register and Bethany was helping customers. He spotted Petra at last, standing behind a white-swathed table that held a coffee urn, a punch bowl, a huge bouquet of yellow roses and several platters of small pastries.
    Joe’s heart beat faster as he watched her. Petra was attractive in jeans and a polo shirt last week when she’d come to unpack crates, but she was gorgeous today in a flowered sundress and sandals. Her auburn hair shimmered, and he caught the green spark of her eyes from across the room. Every move was graceful as she poured coffee and punch for the customers.
    He edged gingerly between the displays toward the refreshment table. Why did women like stores full of breakable stuff, anyway? A woman pushed a stroller past him in the aisle, and he turned sideways so his broad shoulders wouldn’t brush the wind chimes or hanging, stained-glass mobiles. Even so, the chimes tinkled behind him. At the end of the aisle, empty floor space before Petra’s table allowed him more elbow room, and he let out his pent-up breath.
    “Hey! Good to see you.” Petra’s jade eyes sparkled, and she placed a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. “Sugar’s right there.”
    He raised one eyebrow and smiled. She’d noticed how he took his coffee. That was a good sign. On the other hand, he noted a tense line at the corner of her mouth. “Things going all right?”
    “Super for the gift shop. Not so good for me.” She looked over at him with a crooked smile. Joe sensed he was a goner right then, though his past whispered, “Caution.”
    “Anything I can help with?”
    She poured a cup of coffee for another customer. In a slack moment, she threw him a sidelong glance. “Remember what we talked about last week?”
    “I sure do.” He saw Bethany looking their way and smiled.
    “I almost called you Wednesday night,” Petra said.
    “Why didn’t you?”
    “Because it was after midnight, and in the sober light of morning, I decided to wait until I could talk to you in person.”
    “Oh? New developments?”
    “You might say that.”
    A customer approached, eyeing the punch, and Petra broke off with an, “Excuse me” and flashed the smile that had brought him back here today. All right, I’m dazzled. But his sharp eyes also caught the little wrinkle in her forehead that spelled anxiety. He wished he could smooth that away for her.
    Keilah approached him. “Joe, you’ve got a phone call.”
    “Oh, thanks.” He placed his empty coffee cup on the table. “Excuse me. I’ll take it next door.”
    “I’ll tell them,” Keilah said.
    Joe nodded at Petra. “See you later.”
    The connecting door was blocked by a display rack. They had agreed that door would only be used for the phone line, so he headed for the front entrance. In his office, he grabbed his phone with one hand, loosening his tie with the other.
    “This is Joe Tarleton. May I help you?”
    “Yes, Mr. Tarleton. This is Belinda Stiles-Brackett.”
    He suppressed a groan. His divorce case. “Yes, ma’am. Did you decide whether you want to go on with the investigation, or have I given you enough data?” He slumped in his chair and put his feet on his desk, prepared to let her talk for five or