Page 31 of Island Homecoming

“We’ll take a closer look,” Frasier promised. “Easier to sort out in the morning.” Frasier cast the light down over the busted lock and nudged open the door. “Gene opens at eight.”

With a nod, Nash made a mental note to call the locksmith—in roughly five more hours. Man, he was headed for a long day. The police would probably want to dust for prints or search for evidence between now and then anyway.

Grumbling about the malfunctioning lights, he reached in and flipped the switch. The lights overhead illuminated the space. Rows of tables and storage shelves stretched back from the service counter. The office was dark, as was the greenhouse. He saw lights sweeping across the area behind the greenhouse. He pointed in that direction. “Your team, I hope?”

Frasier glanced over. “That’s right. They’ll let us know if they find anything.”

“Good.” Nash walked up toward the front counter, Frasier trailing after him. “They didn’t mess with the till.”

The cop walked around and confirmed the front door was secure. “That’s some good news.”

Nash agreed. Nothing was out of place in the office either. Frasier pointed out a fresh shoe print near the doorway and they left it for the evidence collection. Searching the greenhouse was a different story.

“Over here!” Nash followed a trail of wet footprints, already evaporating, through the plastic strip curtain toward the row of metal cabinets under the work counter that ran along one side of the greenhouse.

“Guess they didn’t expect us to be on the scene so fast,” Nash said.

“Guess not.” Frasier took a couple of pictures of the prints with his cell phone, then gave Nash the go-ahead to open the cabinet closest to the last print. Things were messy, but nothing was missing. “Pull out everything, make sure they didn’t hide anything.”

“Sure.” Better to be useful than idle, but Nash stewed in his temper. “Wasn’t Jess out here?”

Frasier nodded. “She and Sergeant Burrell were chasing a suspect.”

“The owner of these boot prints?”

“Likely,” the cop allowed. “I don’t need your opinion, young man,” he cautioned. “They’ll report when they have something.” He studied Nash with the experience of a man who’d raised three sons. “Stand down. She’s fine.”

Nash wanted to fidget or protest. Maybe both. Despite the other man’s confidence, Nash wouldn’t relax until he saw her in one piece.

Frasier’s radio crackled and Jess’s voice flowed out. “Back fence is cut,” she said. “I’m going in.”

Nash smothered a groan. This was getting worse by the second. The nursery backed up onto an undeveloped portion of the island crowded with scrubby trees and undergrowth. No real beach access, just a strip of rough terrain protecting the island from the ocean.

“Is there access between here and there?” Frasier asked, his voice low.

Nash nodded, his blood going cold. “What are you thinking? Why make it obvious at the door if they could get in through the fence?”

“I think the situation is fluid,” Frasier replied. “Let’s take a look.”

Nash led the way, wondering what it meant that there weren’t any visible boot prints along the way. At the sliding doors that separated the greenhouse from the yard, he swore again. The chain keeping the doors secure had been cut. “Guess that’s why they came in the side door.”

Frasier grunted, stepping in front of him. “You wait right here.”

Nash must’ve made a noise, because the cop turned back and glared at him. “I mean it, Nash. Do not follow me.”

His jaw set, he held up his hands. “Got it.”

Frasier disappeared into the yard. Nash paced, stopping when his movements made it harder to hear what was going on out back. They kept things organized back there: rows and plots of various plants separated by oyster shell paths. Had someone been hiding back there earlier, waiting for Nash and Nina to finish the inventory? The thought lifted the hair at the back of his neck.

He laced his fingers over his nape and tried to keep himself from rushing out there to see what was taking so long.

“Nash!” Frasier shouted. “You got lights out here?”

Nash went over and flipped the switch, then went out to join him. “What happened?”

His heart skipped at the sight of Jess. She looked just fine. No. She looked strong, a woman in her element. Standing there, hip cocked, her hand rested on the butt of her gun. She might not be in an official police uniform, but she had the posture down, exuding badass attitude.

Should he find that sexy?

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