Heat of the Moment by Lori Handeland Read Free Book Online

contemplated the drawing. It did appear kind of witchy.
    â€œMy mother isn’t actually a witch.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Reggie barked once from outside. Owen must have said that too loud and too angrily. Big shock.
    â€œBecca?” Chief Deb asked.
    â€œHis mother isn’t a witch,” she agreed. “And this…”—she waved her hand at the graffiti and the table—“is all new. Wasn’t here the last time I was.”
    The annoyance that had already sparked over Deb’s words, flared at her needing someone else’s confirmation of his own.
    â€œCould your mom’s friends have come here?” Deb continued. “What are they called? A coven?”
    â€œShe didn’t have friends.” She’d had dealers. And if it weren’t for that damn star on the wall, the dead animals on the table, and the lack of a meth lab in the kitchen he would have figured those dealers had gone Breaking Bad on the place. It made more sense than a coven.
    â€œShe isn’t a witch,” he repeated. Did the woman listen?
    â€œMaybe a coven met here because they knew the place was abandoned.”
    â€œIt wasn’t abandoned.”
    Sure, he should have come back before now, but—
    His gaze went to Becca, who continued to study the table, probably because she didn’t want to look at him. And that meant she really didn’t want to look at him because who would choose to look at that?
    â€œCouldn’t tell it by the appearance of the place,” Chief Deb muttered.
    â€œAnd whose fault is that?” he snapped. “If the Carstairs’ farm was left empty you can bet someone from your office would have driven by often enough.”
    â€œThe Carstairs’ farm would never be left empty.” Deb’s voice was so reasonable, and her words so true, Owen was at first furious, and then so empty he felt drained.
    He’d been foolish to think the house would be in decent shape, that he could come here and, with a few minor tweaks, have the place ready to sell in a few weeks. But he’d been foolish about a lot of things.
    Believing his mother would get better. That his life was finally on track. That he’d ever get over Becca Carstairs.
    â€œI need to call Otto,” Deb said.
    Otto Dubberpuhl, the GP in Three Harbors, was the only doctor they had and had been for as long as Owen could recall. Owen had figured the guy would be in his grave by now. Doctor D had been old when they were kids, or maybe he’d just seemed so. Back then, forty was old, so Doctor D might be all of fifty now, but Owen doubted it.
    Because the town was so small, Doctor D performed any autopsies. But those consisted of an explanation for a thirty-five-year-old farmer dying on his tractor and the occasional crib death. Once in a while, a domestic disaster. Still, Owen doubted he was the one to call for this.
    â€œMaybe you should find someone with more experience in…” Owen waved at the mess. He wasn’t sure what to call that.
    â€œDoctor D took a course on forensics,” Deb protested.
    â€œI think it was called ‘Accurately Portraying Forensic Science in Your Novel,’” Becca said.
    Owen took a deep breath in an attempt not to laugh, choke, or cough. As the air was still heavy with the scent of ick, the gulp took care of any urge to laugh, though the choking and the coughing were touch and go for a while.
    â€œThis isn’t a murder,” Owen pointed out.
    Becca cast him a disgusted glance. “Is too.”
    â€œWould forensic techniques work in a case involving animals?”
    â€œProbably not,” Becca said. “But there was a class in veterinary forensics in college.”
    â€œGreat!” Deb bounced on her toes as if she might actually start to cheer like the good old days. G-R-E-A-T! GRRREAT! “Go nuts, Becca.”
    â€œI didn’t say I took it.”
    â€œYou