Deadly Devotion by Sandra Orchard Page B

a drive-by shooting in Port Aster. Of course, until Daisy’s death, there hadn’t been a murder in as long as Kate could remember either. Clearly, Tom wasn’t taking any chances.
    The car sped by without slowing.
    Kate let out a breath. Maybe she could trust Tom. Anyone who’d stand in the line of fire for her deserved a second chance, even if he was a cop. Not to mention she was fresh out of options.
    Edward knew where she lived.
    Tom rested his hand on the door frame and hunkered down to her eye level. If she didn’t know better, she might have mistaken the concern—definitely concern—in his eyes for something more than duty. “I want to introduce you to my dad. He’s a retired police officer and might see something we’re missing. You can tell us what you’ve found, and we can decide what to do from there.”
    “You’re going to reopen the case?” she practically squealed.
    A muscle in Tom’s jaw flinched. “We’ll see.”
    His lukewarm response cooled her hopes, but she followed Tom to his dad’s house. Edward wouldn’t come after her as long as Tom was close by.
    His dad lived in a cheery, yellow-sided bungalow on a tree-lined street. The masses of purple phlox, hyacinths, and forget-me-nots amid a variety of other yet-to-bloom perennials suggested he shared her love of gardening, although the bed was in need of some serious weeding.
    Tom opened her car door. “Please excuse the mess when we get inside. My dad hasn’t been the same since Mom died.”
    “Of course, I understand.” Too well.
    Tom’s gentle touch at the small of her back plucked her from the edge of an emotional cliff. He steered her toward the front door, and she reminded herself that he too was grieving.
    The strong perfume of the hyacinths whisked her back to the many happy hours she’d spent with Gramps weeding flower beds. Her friends had thought she was crazy, but she’d loved to linger over the chore, talking with Gramps. He’d given her a love of flowers—especially perennials, something that could be depended on to come back year after year.
    A slightly gray-haired version of Tom, bearing the same distinctive blue eyes and chiseled chin, opened the screen door. “You must be Kate.”
    “Yes.” She smiled, pleased that Tom had talked about her with his dad. Perhaps Tom hadn’t completely dropped Daisy’s case.
    “Call me Keith,” Tom’s dad said, pushing the door wide so she could walk past him.
    The aroma of baked apple pie greeted her. “Mmm, it smells like Saturday afternoons at my grandparents’ in here.”
    “Don’t let your mouth water,” Tom said, stepping in behind her. “The smell is from an air freshener.”
    Keith let the screen door bang shut. “Always a critic in every crowd.”
    The hall opened into a bright sitting room that by the looks of the worn leather recliner served mainly as a TV room. Family photos graced every shelf and tabletop to the point of looking cluttered, but not messy. “You have a beautiful home, Keith. I love your flower bed by the front porch.”
    “Gardening was my wife’s passion.” He motioned for Kate to take a seat in the TV room. “I’m afraid I haven’t given the garden the attention it deserves since she passed on.”
    The affection in his mellow bass voice made Kate miss not only Daisy but Mom and Gran and Gramps too. “I was so sorry to hear of your loss.”
    He gave her a vacant nod. A nod she understood all too well. The kind of nod she’d been guilty of dispensing herself when on the receiving end of too many empty condolences.
    “I’d love to help you with the garden,” she said, “if you like.”
    His eyes brightened. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
    She sat on the sofa and found herself relaxing. The quiet tick of a miniature grandfather clock made of foam puzzle pieces reminded her of quiet afternoons reading in Gran’s living room. How strange that she should feel so at home here.
    She shook the notion from her head and frowned at