closet rod, touching each item as she moved it aside. Her clothing took up only a small part of the space. Finally she dropped her hand to her side.
“My red silk blouse.”
“It’s missing?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
“Are you certain? It’s not in the laundry?”
She shook her head. “No. And she would like that blouse. It was two or three years old, but it was expensive.”
“Who are you referring to?”
Laurel bit her lip. “You’ll hate me.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will. You’ll call some other cops, and you’ll leave. You’ll never want to see me again.”
Dan pulled her back into his embrace, even though her words sent a warning shiver down his spine. “Shh. That’s not going to happen.”
She took a deep, tremulous breath. He turned toward the living room and pushed her gently along. “Come on. You can’t stay here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been burglarized twice. You need to get out of here before you get hurt.” He pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling for some on-duty officers. They can investigate this latest break-in, but you’ll have to tell them what you know, Laurel.”
She nodded. “Then what?”
“I’ll take you to the police station. You can’t stay here. They can put you in protective custody—”
“No!” Her eyes were wild with terror. “Don’t do it! Please, Dan. I can’t!”
He reached for her, but she twisted away.
“Don’t put me in jail.”
Dan frowned and tried to decide whether she was rational. “Laurel, I just want to keep you safe.”
“Not in prison!”
“A safe house.”
She stood still. “A place the police have for witnesses?”
“I was thinking of a friend’s house. Unofficially, unless you think you need an officer’s protection.”
“You could hide me?”
“Maybe. If my friend agrees. Do you think you need to hide?”
She didn’t answer, and his apprehension grew.
“The police department isn’t likely to pay for concealing you and assigning around-the-clock protection for a burglary victim,” he said. “But I know people who might give you a place to stay for a few days.”
Her eyes darted about the room, and she drew in rapid breaths. At last she sank onto the sofa. “All right.”
Dan gave her an approving look. “I’ll find a place. If you want to pack a few things, go ahead.”
“Do we have to call the police?”
Dan looked away from her desperate, beautiful face. “Laurel, I am the police.”
“I know, but…”
He sat down beside her and laid the phone on the cushion between them, then reached over and took her hands in his. “I want to help. I can see that you don’t want the police involved officially this time. Give me a reason not to call the dispatcher.”
She didn’t respond. Dan watched her silently for a minute. “Laurel, it’s all right.”
She shook her head.
“Yes, it is. You can trust me.”
She sighed and looked at him, her brown eyes swimming in tears. “I hoped we could be friends, and if I didn’t get too close, I’d never have to tell you.”
“It’s all right to tell me.” He stroked her fingers. “I promise, I won’t hate you. I can’t hate you. We’re way past that.”
Her cheek twitched, and he was afraid she would break down again.
“If only you weren’t a cop,” she whispered.
Dan inhaled deeply. “Well, I am. That’s not going to change. You need to tell me everything. Then maybe I can help you.”
She nodded.
“How about you start by telling me where you’re from.”
Her face crinkled up for a second. “Maine.”
He wanted to laugh and say, “There now, was that so hard?” But the look on her face warned him that she was still close to panic. “You left Maine to put something behind you.”
“Yes,” she acknowledged carefully.
Dan strove for a lighter note. “Hmm, broken heart, maybe? A lobster fisherman broke up with you, and you vowed never to live by the sea again?”
She shook her