2

Mike Houston saw the cloud of dust from the corner of his eye and buried the bit of his ax in the middle of the stump he used as a chopping block. He watched the plume of brown as it raced up the dirt road that led to the log cabin he and Anne Bouchard called home.

In a few moments, he saw the unmistakable fire engine red of Anne’s Ginetta G33 two-seater flash through an opening in the trees. He took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped sweat from his forehead, then turned to the enticing shade of the porch that spanned the width of the structure. He sat in an Adirondack chair and reached into the plastic insulated cooler to extract a can of beer. He popped the top and took a long drink, savoring the cool liquid as it chilled his parched throat.

The car pulled into the yard and stopped within ten feet of the house. Houston walked off the porch, met her at her car, and opened her door. Anne smiled at him. “Is sitting there drinking beer all you’ve done today?”

“Hey, it’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

She hopped out of the sports car and landed in front of him, then raised up on her tip-toes, kissed him on the forehead, and smacked her lips. “Salty. Houston, you’re the only guy I know who can sweat drinking beer in the shade.”

“Not much cooler inside. How was your day?”

“Great, I went to Kittery and hit the outlet stores.” She returned his embrace.

He shifted and held her at arm’s length. “So what did you get me?”

She grinned. “I was going to get something sheer, slinky, and tantalizing for you.”

Houston grinned. “Show it to me. Better yet, model it for me.”

She laughed. “I said I was going to get it for you. Then I realized that it was a waste of money, because within minutes you’d rip it off me. So why waste the money when I already have all we need?”

He pretended to look crestfallen. “You mean you didn’t buy it?”

“I mean I didn’t buy it.”

He gave a lecherous grin. “You’d rather run naked through the woods with me.”

“Too many bugs. We can run naked through the house, though.”

She stepped out of his arms and onto the porch. She sat in the chair he had vacated and opened the cooler. She stared inside for a second, pulled a beer from the cooler, and popped the top. She sat back, enjoying the respite from the late summer sun’s heat and said, “I got to hand it to you, though. At first I wasn’t sure I’d like living here, but it isn’t half bad . . . .”

Houston sat beside her and drank his beer. “It does grow on you, doesn’t it?”

They sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying each other’s company. One of the secrets to their success as partners was their ability to accept each other’s privacy and go long periods without talking.

“Something’s on your mind, woman. What is it?”

“I want you to help me do something.”

“Okay . . .”

“I met an elderly couple. A fisherman and his wife. They live in Kittery. Their granddaughter has gone missing.”

“How’d you meet this elderly couple, hon?” Houston doubted that it was a chance meeting.

She smiled, and he knew that he was right; there was more to this than she’d let on.

“Well, I’ve been seeing posters about a missing woman. They said she was from Kittery but last seen in Boston. Naturally, I thought, ‘Who would be better than Mike and me to look into this?’ We got good connections in the city—on both sides of the fence.”

“The police would be better. We’re not cops anymore.”

“The authorities have been notified. Besides, you have one thing that the cops don’t.”

“And what might that be?”

“Jimmy O and his organization. And that’s not to mention contacts within the BPD.”

“You have as many department contacts as I do. And ever since the Rosa incident, you can connect with Jimmy.”

“I just thought that this could be something we can do together. It’d be like we’re partners again.”

“We are partners—in a much more meaningful way.”

“I know that,” Bouchard hesitated and then added, “I never thought I’d say this, but it’ll be like the old days.”

“Those old days were barely over a year ago.”

“There’s more to it—a lot more to it. I’d like you to talk to the Guerettes.”

“You sound as if you’ve already met with them.” Houston studied her and saw that she was deeply concerned. He also knew that until injury in the line of duty forced her to take a medical retirement, Anne was one of the most perceptive and intuitive cops he’d ever known. “Okay, we’ll drive to Kittery in the morning.”

She stood up from her chair and sat in his lap. She kissed him. “You always were a hard sell, Houston.”

He laughed. “Why pretend I can resist you? Once you got me in bed, you knew you’d get whatever you wanted anyway.”

“Aw, but when you give in so easy, it takes all the fun out of the sale.”