The Other Woman. Brenda Novak

      She knew he stared after her, that she’d surprised him once again. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

      CARTER HAD QUIT HIS JOB with the Federal Bureau of Investigation shortly after Laurel’s funeral. He knew he’d never go back. But he was still a cop at heart, and that made him reluctant to allow the mystery of the vandalized bathroom to go unsolved. Someone had been inside Liz O’Connell’s chocolate shop; someone had caused the damage. He intended to find out who was responsible—and he doubted he’d have to work very hard to do it. The way Liz had muttered, “Keith!” before she’d stormed out and marched over to the hardware store told him she had reason to believe it might be her ex-husband. Which meant Keith probably had a solid motive. And a solid motive made him Carter’s best suspect. Maybe Liz’s ex denied ripping the sink from the wall, but any man who could lead the double life Keith had led had to be one hell of a liar.

      Carter hated liars almost as much as he hated petty thieves and vandals. In seven years with the bureau, he’d learned that small crimes stemmed from the same lack of regard for others that fostered larger crimes.

      “Can I help you?” An old guy with spidery veins covering his ruddy cheeks stood at the cash register.

      Carter paused long enough to hold up the screw. “Can you tell me where I can find these?”

      He took a moment to peer at it. “Aisle nine.”

      “Thanks.” Carter moved on. He hoped to run into Liz’s ex while he shopped. But he found a new paint roller and the right screws without meeting anyone else, so he wandered about the store until he heard voices coming from the nursery that leaned against one side of the building.

      Sure enough, there was a tall dark-blond man inside. Judging by his T-shirt, which had Ollie’s Hardware written across it in red, and by his approximate age, Carter guessed he’d found Keith.

      Taking a well-worn dirt path that snaked through the plants, Carter drew closer and listened as Keith spoke to a middle-aged woman and her teenage son. They wanted advice on getting rid of snails in their garden without using pesticides.

      Carter paused while Keith answered, using the time to examine a stone birdbath in front of him.

      Finally, the teenager hefted a bag of potting soil over his shoulder, and he and his mother headed out of the nursery.

      Carter sauntered closer.

      “Can I help you find something in particular?” Keith asked.

      Carter took in the sharp angles of the other man’s face. Keith appeared to be fit and healthy, and Carter guessed most women would find him attractive. But the way his clothes hung on him suggested he’d lost weight recently. Was he depressed? Skipping meals? Experimenting with drugs?

      Carter wished he could ignore such details, the way most other people did. But it was the minutiae that made the difference in an investigation. Noticing had become second nature to him. “You’re Keith O’Connell?”

      Keith’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t wearing a name badge, probably because there wasn’t any need for it. In a town this size, most folks would already know who he was. “Have we met?”

      “I’m new in Dundee. I work for Senator Holbrook.”

      “Oh, right.” He looked Carter over thoroughly. “I hear you went out with my ex-wife last night.”

      “I went out with one of them,” Carter corrected.

      His pointed allusion to Keith’s past prompted a tightening about the mouth and a quick retaliation. “Yeah, well, from what I hear, she wasn’t very excited about your dinner together.”

      Keith’s dig bothered Carter, and that surprised him. He hadn’t cared about anything for a long time. But he’d made no effort to endear himself to Liz and he knew he couldn’t expect any better. Anyway, he had no real interest in a woman with emotional baggage. He had too much of his own. “I guess I’m not very good at small talk,” he said.

      “I can see that,” Keith replied. “It’s almost as if you came here just to piss me off.”

      Carter held up the new roller he meant to purchase. “Actually, I came to get a few supplies, too. Otherwise, I couldn’t make the improvements at the chocolate shop.”

      Keith’s jaw dropped. “The what?”

      “You heard me.” Carter suspected he was being too combative. He didn’t even know Keith. But since the numbness that set in after Laurel’s death had worn off, the darker emotions simmering beneath his skin sometimes got the best of him—especially when he found a target as deserving as a man who’d cheated and lied to the extent that Keith had done.

      “Did Liz ask for your help?”

      “The senator suggested it.”

      Liz’s ex stepped closer, giving Carter the impression he wasn’t the type to back down from a fight. “Well, you can forget about it. She doesn’t need you. She’s got me.”

      Carter eyed Keith’s hands, which had nearly doubled into fists. He waited to see if Keith would take a swing at him, but when Keith made no move, he said, “Evidently it’s not happening fast enough.”

      “I’ll get to it.”

      “No need,” Carter said. “The place will be painted before you can get off work.”

      “That’s all you wanted to tell me? That you’re helping Liz—and that you can get it done quicker than I can?”

      “No. There’s one more thing.”

      Keith’s nostrils flared. “What’s that?”

      “If you’re the person who ripped her sink from the wall, you’d better not try that shit again,” he said and stalked off.

      “Who the hell do you think you are, you arrogant son of a bitch?” Keith called after him.

      Carter didn’t respond. He’d already made his point. Besides, he wasn’t arrogant. He was angry.