Deep Freeze (West Coast 1)

His secretary had followed Rinda into the office, and it was evident from the glare she sent Rinda that Jerri was furious. “I tried to stop her,” she explained, with a but-what-can-you-do frown pursing her lips.

Carter waved Jerri off. “It’s all right. You know she’s an old friend.”

“Just don’t put the emphasis on ‘old,’” Rind

a suggested. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Jerri was nearly spitting nails.

“Never.” For the first time that day, Carter felt one side of his mouth lift into a smile. He’d known Rinda Allen since they were kids, lost touch with her when she got married and moved to California, reconnected when she’d returned to Falls Crossing, newly divorced, a kid in tow. There had never been any romantic connection between them, but a lifetime ago Rinda Allen had been Carolyn’s best friend. She’d been the one who had set up the blind date where both Carolyn and Shane, both reluctantly, had met. And that counted. For that, and countless other favors over the years, Rinda Dalinsky could bend a few rules here and there.

“You’re the one who suggested we stick to protocol,” Jerri reminded him huffily. She had a temper that she was always trying to contain but she was hardworking and honest.

“That I did, and you, accordingly, did your duty.”

“Her barging in here is not protocol.”

“I know. But it’s okay. Thanks.” He winked at Jerri and noticed her cheeks begin to redden. “Would you mind shutting the door?”

“Not at all.” Direct orders she understood.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rinda groaned and rolled her huge eyes. “You’re insufferable, Carter.”

“So they claim.”

“But she’s a drill sergeant.” Rinda flopped into a side chair and studied the single bloom on the Christmas cactus that rested on the corner of his desk, the only plant he hadn’t killed. Yet. “Things a little tense around here lately?”

“I suppose.”

“Have an ID on that woman up at Catwalk Point?”

“You came here to try and pry information out of me? What happened, did you give up the theater for the newspaper?”

“No—it’s just on everyone’s mind, I guess.”

“Are you worried?”

“Are you?”

“Trying to keep things in perspective,” he said, not ready to admit to anyone, not even Rinda, that the Jane Doe case bothered him on a lot of levels. There was something about it that gnawed at him. Yeah, he was worried. Big-time. “Look, I guess I’m here because we’re friends.”

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, as the old heater kicked into overdrive and the sound of air being pushed through old ducts muted the hum of computers and ring of phones outside his office.

“Some things are missing from the theater,” Rinda announced.

“What kind of things?”

“Props. Costumes. Fake jewelry. Nothing all that valuable.”

“You’re sure they’re not misplaced?”

She shot him a look that reminded him she wasn’t an idiot. “At first, I didn’t know. But the last thing bothered me. It’s a black dress that Jenna Hughes donated. It’s probably only worth a couple of hundred dollars, except that it was a costume she’d worn in one of her movies. That ups the street value.”

“You’re here because a dress is missing?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise. “Really?”

Rinda shifted in her chair and avoided his gaze, instead staring through one of the windows in his office. Ice glazed the panes, blurring the lines of the buildings across the street.

“Or is there something else?” he prodded. He hoped to hell she wasn’t going to try to get him to do something about the damned citation.

“Okay…yeah,” she admitted, finally looking directly at him again. “I don’t know who else to tell, Shane. When I figured out what’s been happening, it kinda freaked me out.”