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  “That one—with the lights on.”

  He said sharply, “Did you leave the light on?”

  “Yes.” I cast a quick glance at his silvered profile. “Why? You don’t really think I’m in any danger, do you?”

  “No.”

  “You could try to sound a little more convincing.”

  What he sounded was irritable. “You had to go around telling everyone Peaches had been murdered, didn’t you?”

  “That’s it.” I stopped walking. The glassware rattled to a halt with me. “We need to have this out here and now.” I was talking to his back. “Hey.”

  He kept walking. I had to trot to catch up—which irritated me further.

  “Listen,” I said, “I did not tell anyone anything. Peaches was everybody’s candidate for unnatural selection. From the minute I said I found her in the woods, people were speculating about how she died.”

  “And you encouraged their speculation.”

  “I didn’t. I didn’t say anything one way or the other. I didn’t know anything one way or the other. I still don’t.”

  J.X. stopped walking. His voice was low. “We both know she was killed.”

  I swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded.

  “Did you tell the sheriffs?”

  “Yep.”

  He started walking again. After a few seconds of thought, I tagged after.

  As we reached my cabin, he asked, “You want me to take a look inside?”

  I hesitated. If he was a homicidal maniac, this was his big chance. No one had seen us walk out here together. Certainly no one had responded to my shouts.

  On the other hand, what if the homicidal maniac was hiding under my bed? I didn’t feel up to dealing with it on my own.

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open. The first sight to meet our gaze was my brand-new silk jockstrap lying on the floor next to the bed. Scarlet silk. I mean…

  “I had no idea,” J.X. murmured.

  “You still don’t.”

  He laughed and I was abruptly reminded that this was not the first time he had been in my bedroom. I remembered some other things too—things I’d thought I’d forgotten: the smoky, sweet taste of his mouth, his husky laugh, his strength—and his gentleness. You don’t expect gentleness from a twenty-five-year-old macho cop, but he had been…tender. Energetic, but tender.

  I had handed him the drinks tray while I unlocked the door, now I watched him set the tray of gin and tonic water on the table by the wall. I opened my mouth to ask if he was married—but there is no way to ask that it doesn’t sound like you have a personal stake in the answer. It’s like asking a man if he’s gay—which would have been my second question.

  And while I had no personal interest in J.X. Moriarity, hearing him confirm tonight that he was straight would have felt like the very last straw.

  So I watched him open the closet and push my few clothes aside. He stepped into the bathroom and shoved the shower curtain back.

  I squatted down and looked under the bed. “All clear.”

  His expression told me that I was not taking this seriously enough.

  He examined the window casings while I went to rinse my muddy glass out in the bathroom.

  I sat on the bed and unscrewed the bottlecap. “Would you like a nightcap? I think there’s a plastic cup in the bathroom. Or you can use the coffee pot to drink from.”

  He studied me.

  “Look, Kit, I realize it’s none of my business, but go easy on that stuff. You need to keep your wits about you.”

  “I’m never wittier than when I’ve had a few drinks,” I informed him in my best Elsa Lancaster imitation. Not that he would have a clue who Elsa Lancaster was, she was well before his time. Well before mine, too, now that I thought about it, but the evening had aged me.

  J.X. sighed. “I know you’ve had a rough day. But this is for real. If someone really wanted into this cabin, it wouldn’t be hard to get inside.”

  “I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

  “Better yet, sleep with that chair propped beneath the door handle.”

  Great minds.

  “Okay.” I held up the bottle. “Sure you won’t have one for the road?”

  He shook his head. “I need to sleep. I’m dead.”

  “Unfortunate choice of words.” I poured gin in the glass. Studied the still bubbly tonic water. That bottle needed to be opened in the bathroom over the sink to minimize loss of vital fluids. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  J.X. opened the cabin door. He hesitated. “Steven can be a real asshole.”

  “There it is again, the keen eye of the master detective.”

  His mouth tightened. “Don’t forget to lock this door.”

  I rose, went to the door. He stepped out and I closed the door, sliding the bolt home. I leaned against it and closed my eyes.

  “What is the matter with you?” I whispered.

  Then I nearly jumped out of my skin as someone banged on the door. I backed away and called, “Who is it?”

  “Me.” The muffled voice was male.

  Heart thudding, I got out, “Me who?”

  “Kit!”

  I recognized the exasperation. I unbolted the door and opened it.

  J.X., looking unexpectedly self-conscious, pointed to a few cabins down and said, “Look, if something does…happen. I’m right over there. Cabin six.”

  “Within screaming distance,” I observed.

  “Uh…yeah.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll try not to take advantage of the situation. I know you need your beauty rest.”

  He gave a funny laugh, shook his head and turned away.

  “J.X.?” I said.

  He stopped. I fastened my hand on the damp collar of his leather jacket and drew him through the doorway and back into the cabin. With my free hand I gave the door a shove. It snicked shut. J.X. reached back and locked it.

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