Ginny stepped into the hot summer sun, crossing through Helen’s yard into the Masterson’s. She focused on the ground, but with the grass recently cut and the summer heat burning the green to brown, there was no evidence of footprints. As she approached the wooden back porch, she stood, staring at the back of the house. The porch ran three-quarters of the length, from the sliding glass door os the family room to the end of what Helen indicated was the master bedroom. Studying the porch, she saw no dusty footprints either.

Sighing, she carefully walked over to the sliding glass door, looking for clues that someone might have tried to break in. Leaning down, she studied the wooden doorframe, but noticed nothing. No marks in the wood. No attempted entry.

Stepping back, with her hands on her hips, she slid her gaze over the entire back of the house. Walking along the deck, she moved to the window Helen indicated the man had peered into. No footprints on the porch below. No evidence of attempted entry. Pulling out the fingerprint kit, she dusted the window. Nothing.

Helen had not been able to see clearly enough to say whether the man wore gloves, but with no other evidence, Ginny assumed he probably did.

Peeking through the window, she viewed the master bedroom, noting there were blinds on the window, but they were angled so that light shone through—and eyes would be able to see in. Ten feet further, at the end of the porch, was a higher window. Unable to see into it, she stood on her tiptoes enough to tell that it was probably the bathroom. Stepping back again, she shook her head, trying to see anything out of the ordinary.

“Officer, is something wrong?”

Startled, Ginny whirled around, seeing a middle-aged man standing in the next-door backyard, a hoe in his hand. “Hello,” she called out, walking toward him. Stopping a few feet from the fence border, she smiled at him. “I’m Officer Spencer and I’m checking out the Masterson’s home since they are out of town. Have you seen anyone back here that made you suspicious?”

“No, ma’am. I’m Jeffrey Teestor and if I saw someone back here besides the Mastersons, I’d have called the police.”

Chuckling, she nodded, and said, “That would be the right response. But one of your neighbors reported seeing a man on the back porch here last night, looking into the window. So, I’m just checking the house to see if I can find any evidence of a problem.”

His eyes jumped to his neighbor’s house before returning to Ginny’s face. “Did you find anything? Was there someone there?”

“No, sir, but I want to make sure. Have you seen anyone at the rental property behind your house…next to Mrs. Collins’ house?”

His eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. “Mrs. Collins. Is she the one who reported seeing someone? Let me tell you, she’s a nice lady but, Officer, she lives alone with all those cats and I gotta tell you, I think she’d be the type who might need some attention, if you know what I mean.”

Not acknowledging his opinion of Helen, she continued, “So, you haven’t seen anyone suspicious?”

“This whole town has a bunch of rentals this time of year. There’re a lot visitors, so no way would I necessarily pay attention to someone I didn’t know. And, as I said before, if I did see someone suspicious, I’d sure as hell call the police.”

Thanking him, Ginny walked through the yard to the other neighbors and began knocking on doors. She found the same answers as Mr. Teestor’s—and several with the same opinion of Helen Collins.

Driving back to the station, she pondered the possibilities. Was Helen mistaken? If a man was not breaking and entering, was he scoping the area for future break-ins? Or just looking in bedrooms? And, if so, a probable motive snaked through her.

* * *

“So, is Mrs. Collins just an attention seeker?” Burt asked, looking across the table at Ginny. “I don’t like to doubt people, but so far, she’s the only one who saw anyone.”

Ginny realized Burt, Mitch, Sam, and Grant’s eyes were all focused on her. Sighing heavily, she shook her head slowly. “This sucks because I really want to believe her. Yes, she’s lonely. Yes, she’s kind of a stereotypical cat lady. But to completely ignore her could possibly lead to someone actually breaking into a home.”

“Or we could be just encouraging someone who takes up our services to have someone to talk to.”

“Just because we have no proof now doesn’t mean her concerns need to be dismissed!” Ginny argued, her frustration close to the surface.

Mitch nodded and said, “I agree. We need to be more vigilant. When on night patrol, keep your eyes and ears open. We don’t want to scare the townspeople but we need to make sure we don’t have someone scoping out places to break into.” Looking over at Ginny, he said, “Good work.”

“Just doing my job, Chief,” she replied, but a small smile curved the corners of her mouth.

“Next on the agenda,” Mitch continued, “is the block party hosted by Finn’s Pub. It’s in three weeks and we’ll need all hands on deck. It’ll bring in townspeople, people from the county, and visitors. I’ve got Sheriff Hudson and Chief Freeman coming as well.”

The others approved of the fellow law enforcement officers from the surrounding county and nearby town offering their assistance.

“Alcohol will be flowing,” Grant commented, “and that can add to people’s idiotic behavior.”

“Speaking from experience?” Sam joked.

Having the grace to blush, Grant nodded. “Oh, harsh, Sam, but yeah…I made plenty of mistakes in my younger days when drinking too much.”

They all chuckled before getting back to the reports. Mitch added, “The mayor, town council, and town manager have all signed off on the party, but make no mistake—one problem and they’ll be on us like white on rice.”

Sam reached over and started to take a donut, then hesitated before pulling his hand back empty. Seeing the lifted eyebrows all focused on him, he ducked his head, saying, “Wife’s got me watching my diet again. Cholesterol and blood pressure a bit high.” Rubbing his chin, he said, “Don’t worry, though. I’m not ready to retire yet.”

“Good to hear,” Mitch said.

As they finished their briefing, Grant called out, “Don’t forget the American Legion meeting tomorrow.”

Ginny nodded before stepping out into the parking lot. Her shift over, she relished her walk home on the tree-lined streets. Suddenly, she halted, the sight before her causing her to stumble.

Brogan was leaning against one of the patrol cars, one booted, jean-clad leg crossed over the other. His arms were crossed as well, straining his shirt sleeves. His eyes were covered with reflective sunglasses, but she felt the warmth of his stare nonetheless. As she approached, he slowly released his arms and slid his glasses from his face. She was right—his stare was sending more warmth her way than the sun. Sucking in a quick breath, her legs continued to move forward of their own accord. The closer she got, the farther her head had to lean back. Sucking in her lips, she cocked her head to the side in silent question.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough and yet soothing.

“Hey, yourself,” she smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I might walk you home from your shift.”

She watched as his cheeks reddened slightly and she smiled. “How do you know I walk home?”

Shrugging, he replied, “It’s a small town. Not hard to pick up on people’s habits. Sometimes you drive, but not usually.”

“Oh, you know all the work habits of the residents?” she joked.

Standing to his full height, he stepped closer, peering down at her. “No…just the ones that matter.”

“Oh…” Ginny blinked, a ribbon of pleasure unfurling about her.

“Is that okay?”

Stammering, she said, “Uh, is what okay?”

Brogan grinned, “That I walk you home.”

Nodding, she smiled. “I am a police officer, you know. I’m pretty sure I’m safe.”

“I’m sure you are, but I’d still like to walk with you.”

They held each other’s gazes for a moment, no words spoken, but with a longing that threatened to overtake them. Swallowing deeply, Ginny nodded. “Yes, you may walk me home.”

Dropping his chin to his chest, Brogan let out the breath he had been holding. Lifting his gaze to pierce her, his blue eyes locked on her hazel ones. With a grin, he replied, “Well, all right then.”

The town’s sidewalks were old and often cracked but Ginny felt as though she were floating along on a cloud. Staring straight ahead, she wondered what was happening. I’m a cop, not some teenager. Slanting her eyes, she looked over at Brogan, his normally taciturn expression softened. Unable to keep a chuckle from slipping out, she noted he jerked his gaze down to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I seemed to be unable to think of what to talk about.”

“Yeah, me too,” he admitted. They continued down the shaded sidewalk toward her house. “You could tell me about what’s going on in the police world of our big city,” he joked.

Laughing, she said, “Well, with our huge crime rate in this metropolis, it’s hard to know what’s going on at all times.” Noting Brogan shortened his gait so that he stayed beside her, she continued, “Let’s see. Nell Holstead called because her neighbor’s crabapple tree is dropping apples in her yard and she’s afraid the raccoons will come spread diseases to her dogs.” Seeing Brogan’s eyebrow raise, she continued. “We had to issue three citations today to beach visitors. One for letting his dog poop on the beach and two for glass alcohol bottles. We also had to issue two speeding tickets. One to a visitor and one to old man Simmons for driving his golf cart erratically.”

“No way!” Brogan exclaimed.

“Hey, at least we didn’t have to deal with Paula Thompkins trying to run over her neighbor’s kids with her motorized wheelchair.”

His large shoulders moved up and down as he laughed. “Anything else?”

She nodded. “Well, we’ve had a possible sighting of a man peeking into windows in the middle of the night.”

Immediately sobering, Brogan halted his steps, placing his hand on her shoulder, stopping her as well. “Wait, is that what you were investigating this afternoon? I don’t like the idea that you have to—”

“Brogan,” she interrupted, “this is my job.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly, for once trying to think of the right thing to say. “I know, Ginny. It just…well, I guess I just worry about you.”

Realizing they were standing on the sidewalk in front of her little house she looked up, seeing uncertainty on his face. Placing her hand on his arm, the steel of his muscles underneath her fingertips almost knocked all other thoughts from her mind. For a long minute, they simply stood and held each other’s eyes. A car honking down the street jerked them both back to the present.

“I’m here,” she said, unnecessarily, nodding toward her house.

“I know,” he said softly.

“You know where I live?” she asked, leaning her head to the side.

“Small town, remember?”

Her lips curved into a smile as she chuckled. “Yeah, I remember. So…I’ll see you tomorrow night at the meeting?”

“Yeah, see you there.” Unable to think of anything else to say, Brogan watched as she turned and walked up the path to her front door. He lifted his hand in response to her wave just before she stepped inside.

* * *

Awakening in a sweat, Brogan cursed. He had actually hoped that Ginny’s gentle touch might take away the inability to make it through a night without the war slipping through. “Sorry, MB,” he said to the cat whose sleep he disturbed. Sighing, he rose from his bed, careful not to toss the covers on the silky black cat, and made his way to the bathroom to change into his running clothes. Once more, he headed out to the beach, hoping the pounding surf and sand would drown out the memories.