Scott hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “You think it was one of his brothers?”
“I don’t know,” JT said. “I’m sure the guy made a lot of enemies in Charleston. He is a lawyer, after all.”
Amusement ticked through Scott, even as an owl hooted a warning miles away. He hunched his shoulders against the chill. “There has to be at least one witness who saw when Millie left Snarky’s. Do you have friends in town?”
“Not really,” JT said. “Millie does, though. Everybody likes her. She’s your key to investigating this. Don’t go off without her.”
“I’d like to speak with the chief on my own,” Scott mused, calculating the best use of his time. “But other than that, you’re right. She’s how we get the entire town to help us figure this out. Although we need people to stop hindering the investigation by creating false alibis for her.”
JT stood straighter, dropped the cigar, and ground it out beneath his thick boot. “What exactly are you and Millie to each other?”
“That’s none of your business,” Scott said instantly, even though he and Millie maintained a friendship, or at least a professional relationship. Were they friends?
“You seem like a decent guy, Scott,” JT said. “But Millie’s had enough loss and enough pain in her life. You seem to be a big twining ball of both.”
Scott couldn’t fault the guy’s instincts, and he’d never blame him for looking out for his sister. “Your sister and I are work colleagues. Hopefully we’ll be friends,” he said. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Good,” JT said curtly. “I have something to take care of this morning and would appreciate it if you went out on the morning charter with her. They’re out-of-towners and I don’t know them.”
“Not a problem.” Scott had been planning on doing that very thing. He tried to convince himself it was to look out for Millie, but really he wanted to see her in a different environment. The more he learned about her, the more intriguing she became.
JT jerked his head toward several downed trees near an ax embedded in a large trunk. “When I can’t sleep, when the demons get too loud, I chop wood. It’s simple but it works.” He turned and strode away, rapidly disappearing between the trees into the mist.
Scott scrutinized the pile of logs. As an idea, it didn’t suck. Maybe he could banish the memory of Millie’s sweet lips against his last night. He’d learned a long time ago in an ocean a million miles away not to wish for things that couldn’t be.
He and the brilliant and pure Millicent Frost could never be.
* * * *
Snug in her parka and boots, Millie filled two cups with coffee as a strong gust pummeled the windowpanes. Grasping both mugs, she strode out of the kitchen door, hearing the thump, thump, thump of her brother chopping wood. The sound should be pleasing or heartwarming, but she knew the nightmares drove him to cut firewood when he had trouble sleeping.
Something rattled, and she partially turned to see the chief of police falling out of her great-aunt’s window.
Millie pressed against the side of the house, the mugs heavy in her hands. What in the world?
The chief leaned back in, and her aunt reached out to kiss him.
Millie’s jaw dropped.
The chief looked quickly around and then turned, plunking his cowboy hat onto his head and jogging across the far lawn to the main road.
Wow. Just wow.
Almost in a daze, Millie turned and stumbled toward the bunkhouse. Mae and the chief? Who knew? Apparently they wanted to keep it secret for some reason. Probably because JT tended to be so grouchy. Well, she’d keep their secret.
Her boots crunched over the frosty grass on her way to the gravel drive, and she kept walking to the bunkhouse, stopping cold when she realized that it wasn’t her brother chopping wood. Instead, Scott Terentson, dressed in the borrowed sweatshirt and his jeans, rhythmically split the logs with animal grace.
The mist swirled around him, shrouding his expression. His rugged face was set in firm lines, while his piercing blue eyes concentrated on his task as if he were the only person anywhere near the river. The sinewy muscles of his arms and shoulders rippled with each swing of the ax, and his forehead glistened with a light sheen of perspiration, even though dawn had just arrived and the morning was frigid. His breath lightly panted out in puffs in the cool air.
Holy crap. Those tailored suits had hidden this raw strength. She’d had no clue.
At some point during his exertions, he had rolled up the sweatshirt sleeves, revealing powerful forearms better suited to a miner than a lawyer accustomed to high-end tailoring and marble courtrooms. He hadn’t shaved and a light shadow of beard covered his chiseled jawline, making him look even more roguish than usual. His dark blond hair was ruffled and stood up in several places.
Her breath caught and fireflies winged through her abdomen. She swallowed several times and tried to remember when she’d pigeonholed him as a city fella. There was obviously a lot more to Scott Terentson than she’d realized. Not to mention that the kiss he’d given her the night before had pretty much blown her socks off. It had taken her hours to get to sleep afterward, and she had been tempted more than once to leave her bed for his.
Confusion blanketed her and she didn’t like it. She usually knew exactly what she was doing, and if not, she could figure out how to create the right scenario around herself. A gadget didn’t exist to help her figure out Scott.
As if sensing her, he stilled, struck the ax into the thick cedar trunk serving as the platform for chopping wood, and turned toward her. “I hope I didn’t awaken you.” His voice was a low growl that licked across her skin.
