Page 16 of Lake House Killer

“Feel free to throw a few things into the cart.” Jack doesn’t hesitate to do the same as we stride by a wall of new sale items and he picks up a three-pack of men’s deodorant.

“Thank you for that. And thank you for the offer as well.” I give a satisfied smile at the tiny dig and he scowls my way.

We spot Owen up ahead and make our way in that direction, staying far enough behind for him to not suspect a thing.

In the meantime, groups of women, from young moms to seasoned shoppers, shoot glances at Jack, whispering and smirking among themselves as if he were the object of the latest gossip. More like the object of their desire. Come to find out, it’s not an uncommon occurrence and I can’t really blame the women.

Jack is handsome to a fault. I might have even done a double take had I run across him in the wild prior to working with him.

It’s clear the women of the world find the tall, fit agent with his crooked smile and sharp blue eyes more intriguing than the latest sale on organic blueberries.

We push our cart down the bustling aisles, trailing well behind Owen Marcus, who seems more focused on his grocery list than on any potential stalkers.

And interestingly enough, Owen doesn’t seem to want to miss a thing, as evidenced by his prolonged detour through housewares.

I’ll admit, the trio of large baskets for less than twenty bucks garnered my attention.

We finally make it to the produce where I spot a bag of lemons, and once I see the price, I stop cold.

“Five bucks for five pounds?” I pick up a bag and admire the almost too-perfect- to-be-true yellow wonders. “I’m starting to think going to the local grocery store is a rip-off. I squeeze one of these babies in my water every day.”

“Get it.” Jack motions for me to fling it into the cart.

“No, that’s okay. This is a lot of lemons to have on hand despite the fact.”

“We can split it,” he says, picking up a bag and landing it in the cart. “In fact, I’d be more than happy to split anything you want. Half the time I don’t have enough room to store the stuff.”

“Deal,” I say, and soon we’re scooping up oranges, apples, chocolate and blueberry muffins—still far too many despite the fact we’ll be dividing them up between us.

We follow Owen over to the meat department where Jack and I each buy our own rotisserie chickens, a block of Irish organic cheese, and a trio of lunch meats, along with minimally proceeded turkey breast that looks slow-roasted to perfection.

“Ooh,” I say, reaching over and grabbing a box of spinach quiche, three pies deep.

“Spinach pie?” He lifts a brow my way as if he’s questioning my sanity.

“It’s a quiche,” I correct him. “And this one happens to boast being made with Gruyere cheese. That’s an insane combination if you ask me.”

“It sounds insane, all right.”

“My mother used to make them all the time. It’s basically high-end comfort food. I’ll make it soon, and when I do, Buddy and I will invite you over. Sort of a reward for letting me mooch off your membership.”

“Sounds more like a punishment.”

We move along and Jack tosses a family-sized bag of frozen pizza into our cart with a triumphant grin.

“Planning to feed an army, or just prepping for a lonely agent’s weekend?” I ask, watching him eye a package of frozen burger patties as long as my arm.

“An FBI agent’s gotta eat,” he retorts. “And I prefer to think of it as stocking up on essential food groups. Bread, cheese, more bread.”

A laugh strums from me as we turn down the next aisle.

Owen is just a few feet ahead, inspecting labels on canned goods with the intensity of a man on a mission.

“Looks like our suspect has a thing for organic beans,” I whisper. “Should we be concerned?”

Jack shakes his head, adding a two-pack of peanut butter to our growing collection. “Only if he starts hurling them at us. Keep your eyes peeled for that.”

We continue our leisurely pursuit of blending in with the other shoppers and scouring the deals. Every so often, Jack makes a show of debating the merits of various snacks before tossing them into the cart. And considering that most of those snacks are laden with chocolate, I can’t wait to get my fair share of them. We reach the pet section and Jack pauses in front of the dog food, his expression suddenly serious.

---