Liz obediently sat, laying her shoes on the grass beside her. “The last time I saw him, he was fine.”

“That’s what all the girls think. They all like him, but you know, I can’t recall him going out on a single date the whole time he’s lived here. He danced once with Sophy Marchand at the Halloween festival last year, but I think that’s as far as it went. You don’t suppose he’s gay, do you?”

If Liz had been standing in her heels, she would have toppled out of them. “No,” she said hastily, breathlessly. Then she gave herself a mental shake. “Not dating doesn’t mean a person doesn’t like the opposite sex. I mean, I like guys, but I don’t date much. It’s been more than two years since I went out with anyone.”

Mrs. Wyndham’s hands stilled, a clump of yellow-and-orange lantana dangling from them, and she fixed her gaze on Liz. “That’s a shame. Did he break your heart?”

“Who?”

“Joe. It’s obvious, isn’t it? You two used to know each other, he’s been here nearly two years and hasn’t gone out with a single woman, you haven’t gone out with another man in two years, you come looking for him…”

“No,” Liz said with a bit too much emphasis even to her own ears. “The timing is just coincidence. We weren’t involved.”

Who was lying now? That night in Josh’s kitchen…She’d been cleaning up after dinner; Joe had come in to get a beer. She had just shut off the lights and turned, and there he was, near and handsome and strong and decent and everything his brother wasn’t. And the sizzle…Damn that sizzle. From the first time they’d met, it had been there, skipping along her veins, dancing upon her nerves, tempting her to forget her job and her case and everything she was for just the chance, the smallest chance, to explore the attraction to him.

They’d stood there in the dimly lit room, everything else faded, mere inches from touching, and everything in her had ached for that touch. She’d wanted it so much and so badly, and so had he; she’d seen it in his face, had felt it in the tension radiating off him in waves. It had taken every bit of strength she possessed to remember why they couldn’t have that touch.

Remember Josh.

The words had been for herself, but they’d had the right effect on Joe. He’d looked stunned.

And an instant later, Josh had barged down the hall.

“Tommy-that’s my grandnephew by marriage-he’s a detective for the local police-says there’s no such thing as coincidence.” Finally, Mrs. Wyndham plunged the lantana into the soft dirt and patted the soil around it.

In the moment the woman’s attention was on the plant, Liz seized the opportunity to send the conversation on a tangent. “I thought maybe Joe and Natalia were involved.”

Mrs. Wyndham pursed her lips in thought. “I don’t think so. I think she’s more like the sister he never had. She’s an odd girl. I never met anyone who seemed more alone. I don’t even know why she stays here. She keeps to herself except for Joe. And now she’s brought home those strays. I think she identifies with them. Someone threw them out, and someone threw her out, and now Joe’s taking care of all three of them.”

Liz resisted the urge to point out that, so far, Natalia had done most of the taking care of the dogs. Joe had bought food and given them a place to spend the night, but Natalia did the actual feeding, the walking, the playing, the loving.

“Where is she from?” Liz asked instead.

“She’s never said.” Mrs. Wyndham pulled another clump of lantana from the plastic flat and dug a hole for it a few inches from the first.

“I don’t use typical standards for renting the cottages,” Mrs. Wyndham went on. “I don’t ask for driver’s licenses or credit or personal references. I’ve known Pete all his life. Credit references couldn’t tell me anything about him that I don’t already know. And Joe…well, you can just look at Joe and know that he’s a good guy. Everyone in town adores him. Half of his friends are cops or lawyers, the churchy people like him a lot and the kids love him.”

Liz thought of the pictures of Josh loaded on her computer. Using Mrs. Wyndham’s logic, he would appear to be a good guy, too. After all, he shared Joe’s trust-inspiring face, and was charming, as well. He could charm their socks right off, and steal their shoes for good measure.

“Joe tells me Natalia needs a place to stay, he vouches for her, and I say sure. Any friend of Joe’s…” The woman flashed her a smile that made her feel about six inches tall. Apparently, Joe hadn’t yet told their landlord that Liz was no friend of his. She’d lied, and he’d let her. Because he’d thought she needed a place to stay? Because he’d thought Josh had let her down and she needed someone to take care of her, like Natalia and the puppies?

She would prefer that Joe think of her differently than Natalia. She’d really prefer that he not consider her a stray like the puppy who now shared her name. She was strong. She had a good job. She’d spent two years taking care of herself and his worthless brother.

“Does he ever have visitors from out of town?”

“Not that I’ve noticed, though he does borrow my car on occasion to go somewhere.”

“Where?” To Savannah to visit his parents? Mika had mentioned that he called them regularly, but she hadn’t said anything about him showing up in person.

“Just day trips that he can’t make on his bike. He always returns it to me washed and with a full tank of gas. And when I ask if he enjoyed himself, he always says he had a very good time. Maybe he’s got a girlfriend we don’t know about.” Mrs. Wyndham’s shrewd gaze turned on Liz. “Was he visiting you before you came here?”

“No.” It was likely his parents. They’d always been close. It was reasonable that he’d want to see them as often as he could.

“That would certainly explain why he’s never shown any interest in the women around here,” Mrs. Wyndham mused. “Because his sweetheart in Atlanta or Augusta or wherever already has claims on him.”

It was possible, Liz grudgingly admitted as she mumbled something about the time, grabbed her shoes and headed for the cottage. Joe was a grown man who’d led an active life in Chicago, professionally and personally. There was no way that getting shot would make him swear off women. According to reports, a stream of them had visited him during his recovery in the hospital, all sympathetic, all wanting to take care of him. He probably did have a girlfriend somewhere, and it didn’t matter to her.

As soon as she stepped inside the house, she flung one shoe across the room so hard that it clattered and skidded until the kitchen cabinets stopped it.

It didn’t matter to her in the least.

The clock on the coffee shop wall was just shy of nine by the time Joe began shutting off lights. He’d been about to walk out the door nearly three hours earlier when Raven had pleaded for the evening off so she could go to a concert in Augusta with the “awesome guy” who’d transformed her into a normal-looking teenage girl. Figuring she could do normal only for a week, maybe two max, then the boy would probably move on, he let her go. Fifteen hours on the job wasn’t so bad. He’d done it for months when he first opened the place.

He slid the bank deposit into his backpack, then wheeled the bike into the alley, stopping long enough to secure the door. The bank was only two blocks south. It wouldn’t add more than a couple minutes to his ride home.

He crossed onto Oglethorpe, coasting, listening to the sounds of customers leaving Ellie’s Deli at the other end of the block. The night was cool, the humidity low, barely noticeable. Whatever he missed about Chicago, he loved the Georgia nights.

He was passing the square when a familiar noise came from the shadows of the park: half bark, half demanding yip. He heard it each night when he forced Bad Do-Elizabeth-back inside after her last trip out, when he moved her from his spot on the couch or his side of the bed and again when he disturbed her sleep when he got up in the morning. Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d escaped Natalia and found a new owner who couldn’t bear to return her.