The Shelter of His Arms (Harlequin Heartwarming) by Dawn Stewardson

apartment, he wouldn’t have let them in.”
    “Not likely, although you never know. There could be some explanation. At any rate, we sure want to have a chat with them.”
    “You know where they are?”
    “No. But we’ll keep looking till we find them. So what do you think?”
    Travis shrugged. “Reese is unstable and I’d say potentially dangerous. But without anyone to put him at the scene, if he’s got an alibi that checks out...”
    “And the lowlifes?”
    “Well, you don’t have enough to draw any conclusions there yet. But you already knew that. And you knew my read on Reese, too. So what else are we doing here?”
    Hank took a sip of coffee, then met Travis’s gaze. “Where do things stand between you and Celeste Langley?”
    “I’ve been seeing her,” he admitted. He trusted Hank not to repeat that. And there was undoubtedly a good reason for his question.
    “Yeah, I figured you would be. That’s why I wanted to tell you about Reese and the scumbags before we got to her.
    “I’m going to need some help from you, buddy, and I wanted you concentrating on what I was saying—so you’d have a clear picture of where the entire case stands. Because the others are obviously more probable suspects than she is.”
    “Obviously,” Travis said, glad to hear that Hank no longer sounded as if he actually thought Celeste might be a killer.
    “I still want to know who that blonde was,” he said, shooting Travis a glance that said he hadn’t completely eliminated Celeste as a possibility.
    “But...look,” he continued, “I learned something only an hour ago that’s started me thinking maybe nobody on my list had anything to do with Parker’s death. Neither Celeste nor Reese nor the other two.
    “And it’s got me back to wondering if Adele Langley’s hit-and-run really was an accident. Back to wondering if it’s connected to her son’s murder. But whether it is or not...”
    “Hank, get to the point, huh?”
    “Okay, the point is that I put Celeste’s name out on the street, too.”
    “And?” Travis could feel that all-too-familiar numbness at the base of his spine. What had Hank learned about Celeste?
    “She was our only suspect at that stage, and I figured it was worth a shot. You never know what you’ll hear, right?”
    “What did you hear?”
    “Buddy...she’s in one truckload of trouble.”
    * * *
    A FTER C ELESTE had spoken with someone at the funeral home and arranged a time for the service on Saturday, she called the relatives and a couple of friends she’d promised to get back to. She’d barely finished that when her intercom buzzed.
    It proved to be Travis—even though she hadn’t been expecting to see him again until seven.
    She released the front-door lock, wondering if he’d figured she’d be feeling blue and in need of company. But whatever he was doing here, just knowing that he was on his way up to her apartment made her smile.
    That, however, was not good. Ensuring their relationship remained platonic would be tough if he kept showing up every time she turned around. Because the more she saw of him the more she liked him.
    She opened her door to discover he was already on his way down the hall. And something obviously wasn’t right.
    There was tension in his stride, and his expression was so dark that fear began nibbling at her.
    For a moment, she felt certain Hank had said he was going to arrest her. But that couldn’t be it when she hadn’t even been questioned. Could it?
    She let Travis in without a word, afraid to ask what the problem was. Instead, she simply led the way to the living room, aware she was only delaying the inevitable.
    When he silently sank onto the couch and gestured for her to join him, she made herself ask what was wrong.
    He shook his head, looking as if he knew he had to tell her but seriously didn’t want to.
    “Travis, I can see it’s bad, so let’s get it over with.”
    The glance he gave her warned it was even worse than she could