“I know, sweetie.” I realized that the TV hadn’t been on when I found him.
Jane buried her face against my shoulder and I held her fiercely. Jesse was Jane’s last living relative and now he was gone. I felt my own tears well up again as I contemplated what I would do if I lost my dad or Uncle Pete. It was too awful to think about.
“Jane,” a husky voice said from behind us. I opened my eyes and saw Police Chief Eric Jensen standing on the steps leading to the porch. Despite the horrid circumstances, I felt a weight lift from my chest at seeing him. He was a good guy to have around. Solid.
I let go of Jane and she turned. “Oh, Eric.”
He stepped onto the porch and held out his arms, and I felt more of my own tears erupt as Jane rushed into his embrace.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Over Jane’s shoulder, Eric’s straightforward gaze met mine. I watched his jaw clench and could only imagine what he was thinking. Something along the lines of Why does Shannon Hammer keep finding dead bodies in my town?
Funny, I was asking myself that same question. It hadn’t been long ago that I discovered that body in the basement of the old Victorian home I’d been working on. At the time, Eric had been new in town and his first inclination was to arrest me for murder, simply because I’d been overheard threatening the dead guy only a few days before his body was found. It was a dumb thing to do—threaten him, I mean—but anyone who knew me would know that I hadn’t meant it literally. Unfortunately Eric didn’t know me back then.
He knew me now, though, and I considered him a good friend. I wanted him to like me. I prayed he wouldn’t jump to that same conclusion this time around. And why would he? Jesse appeared to have succumbed to a heart attack or something equally benign—if a cause of death could ever be considered benign. There was no reason for anyone to assume anything else—except for the minor fact that I’d spent the last twenty minutes assuming that very thing. That foul play might have occurred and Jesse’s death had been the result.
I was already mentally lining up my alibis and excuses for being inside Jesse’s house. Inwardly I winced. I couldn’t help it. The thought of being interrogated by Eric again gave me shivers, and not in a good way. I shook my head briskly, hoping to fling those fears away. The only thing the police needed to know about me and Jesse was that he had been my neighbor since I was a little girl and we’d been great friends. I was devastated by his death.
Still, I had been the one who found his body. If Eric could prove that Jesse had died through some kind of foul play, didn’t that make me the most likely suspect in his eyes?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I whispered. I was letting my imagination run out of control. It was time to wrestle it back into line.
Eric stepped away from Jane but kindly held her arms to steady her until she regained her equilibrium. I almost sighed out loud. He was a nice guy, and pretty darn gorgeous, if you liked that tall, hunky, muscular Nordic god sort of look. And who didn’t? I’d been mentally calling him Thor ever since we met. The name suited him, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing it.
“Shannon,” Eric said, nodding at me.
“Hello, Eric.”
“What happened here?”
“I was checking on Jesse. Nobody’s seen him around in a few days and I thought he might be sick. He didn’t answer his door so I went inside to look for him and found him . . . you know.”
“How’d you get inside?”
“We all have keys to each other’s houses,” I explained in a rush. “My neighbors, I mean. In case there’s an emergency. See, a long time ago, we saw smoke coming from the Robertsons’ upstairs bedroom and Dad broke down their front door to make sure they were okay. Well, it turned out they were fine, but after that we all decided to swap keys with each other to avoid having to break down doors. I keep the keys in my kitchen drawer, the one by the window. And oh my God, that doesn’t really matter, does it?”
I stopped talking abruptly. He didn’t need to know where the stupid junk drawer was. I tended to blather on and on when I was nervous. And I had no reason to be nervous, did I?
Eric coughed, probably to keep from laughing out loud at my idiotic chattering.
“Hey, Chief,” someone shouted from the sidewalk. It was Tommy Gallagher, my old high school boyfriend and the newly promoted deputy chief of police.
He jogged up the walkway and bounded up the steps to join us.