1 Depth of Field by Audrey Claire Read Free Book Online

with Alvin Aston.”
    He studied my face, his unreadable. “I have a witness that says you were seen with Aston.”
    “That’s a lie! Who said it?”
    “Are you sure?”
    I put my hands on my hips. “Of course I’m sure. I know who I’m seeing and who I’m not. Wait.” I thought about it, eyes narrowing. “It was right after I moved here, maybe a few weeks after. I ran into him at the grocery store. He introduced himself, and I gave him my card.”
    “Go on,” the sheriff encouraged me.
    “Nothing much to add. He gave me his card, too, and said if I ever needed his services I should give him a call.”
    Suspicion glinted in the sheriff’s eyes. “Services?”
    “Get your mind out of the gutter. Okay, I suppose when he said it, he sounded a little warmer than necessary. I didn’t encourage him, but whether or not I have a moral code when it comes to married men is not the issue here.”
    “Isn’t it?”
    I pressed my lips together. “He said if I ever want to buy a house in Briney Creek, he’s the man to see. Maybe you forgot that he is— was —a loan officer?”
    Perhaps I thought I would shame the police officer with my words. He didn’t rise to the bait or look apologetic for his conjecture. “Why didn’t you tell me this before rather than claim you didn’t know him?”
    “I didn’t claim I didn’t know him. I said I didn’t really know him, which is true. That one meeting was all there was and hardly important to your case.”
    “Let me be the judge of that.”
    “Fine.” My feelings were hurt, and I felt abused after the interview. I knew he was just doing his job, but it didn’t change my reaction. Emotions raw, fears resurfacing, I answered the rest of his questions without lying but not offering anything additional either. Sheriff Spencer Norwood came across as competent and strong, and I hoped he would do all he could to find the real killer and do it soon.
     

Chapter Four
     
    The only problem I could see with living in an apartment is not having my own washer and dryer. I know there are many complexes in the world that do have them, but they also cost more. In my mind, I was saving money, and keeping more dollars for other bills was key to my survival. So each week, I gathered all of my clothes into a couple baskets—with wheels mind you—and made the trek down Main Street to the Laundromat. Okay, I’m being dramatic here. In actuality, I loaded up my car, drove the mile down Main, and well, you get the rest.
    Because I am a thinker, which means I like to spend time inside my own head pondering life, I choose to do laundry late at night. So much of my business involves people that I want to get away from everyone every now and then. The twenty-four hour Laundromat is usually quiet with no more than one or two people there. Tonight, however, when I walked in lugging what I unaffectionately call my granny basket behind me, I had a surprise waiting for me. One Sheriff Spencer Norwood stood at a washing machine frowning at it like he was tempted to shoot it.
    I considered backing out and choosing another day for my chore but plowed ahead. “Sheriff, I’m surprised to see you here.”
    He turned solemn eyes on me. “Makayla.”
    I was struck anew with how much I enjoyed him saying my name. “Um, are you having trouble?”
    “No.”
    He continued to stand there looking at the machine.
    “It’s not going to fill itself.”
    He grumbled and sighed. When he pushed fingers through his hair, I couldn’t help noticing from its disheveled state he had probably been doing that for a while now. At last, he admitted, “I’m not sure if I should add detergent first or after.”
    I drew up beside him and mentally laid claim to the two machines next to his. “I do it before and start it up so it will blend. I know some people wait until after.”
    We were having very a stimulating conversation.
    “So, is your apartment nearby?” I asked and then wished I’d kept my mouth shut.
    He