Mint Juleps and Justice Read Online Free Page B

on the radio.
    Her heels clicked against the pavers. Just feet from the front porch, she stopped midstride.
    “I know I left that light on this morning.” Great. Now I’m talking to myself . She distinctly remembered going through the motions to leave the porch light on this morning because she thought she wouldn’t be home until late tonight. Thank goodness the summer days were long and she’d left the office early for a change, so it wasn’t dark out, but…
    Maybe the bulb burned out—or not.
    Recent incidents clicked off in her mind—missing items that magically reappeared days later, gas siphoned from her car, and the phone line pulled from its clip on the house. How often does that ever happen? Both times the police had come, they’d written it off as harmless pranks by kids with too much time on their hands.
    Brooke positioned a key between each finger like spikes. She’d seen that in an action adventure film once, and that girl had kicked ass. Armed and ready as she’d ever be, Brooke headed for the front porch. Why am I acting all ninja girl? It’s broad daylight.
    She pulled out her cell to dial the police, then stopped.
    What am I going to say? Hello, 911, my porch light is off?
    That wouldn’t fly. Sheriff Calvin had been really nice about it, but with no evidence there wasn’t much he could do. Still, she hadn’t liked the way that deputy with the Northern accent talked to her in that tone they use on crazies.
    The hairs on her arms tingled as the adrenaline built. A sense of prying eyes, someone watching, forced her to run up the steps where at least she could lock the door behind her.
    Brooke lunged toward the front door, twisted the key in the lock, and rushed inside to safety. She slid her purse and grocery bag off her shoulder to the sideboard table, kicked the door closed, and twisted the newly installed dead bolt.
    She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, then flipped the light switch and peeked out the side-light window next to the front door. The front porch light worked fine.
    A chill crept the length of her limbs. Was it possible that Keith was picking up right where he left off? Maybe ninety miles wasn’t far enough after all.
    She threw her phone in the top of her purse and pulled out a small spiral notebook to jot down the disturbance. Collecting data was like breathing. Of course, it had to align with her gut and those lucky signs that she lived by too. She tossed the notes back into her purse.
    “Stitches? Where’s Mama’s girl?” The little dog’s hearing was going, but she’d usually have wandered out to greet her by now. Brooke clapped and called for the fourteen-year-old dog again.
    Brooke took in a deep cleansing breath, the kind Jenny always swore by, even before they started doing yoga. She let out the breath to the count of five as she stepped out of her shoes. Silently, she recited the self-affirmations she’d been practicing.
    I am fine.
    I am fearless.
    I am in control.
    I am independent.
    I am strong.
    Then, like every other time she’d tried that self-affirmation thing, her mind wandered into a chorus of “I Am Woman” by Helen Reddy. The memory of her mom singing that song so off-key that dogs whimpered and whales fled for deeper waters made her laugh. So it wasn’t exactly how the whole affirmation thing was supposed to work—it was still empowering.
    Her hand froze, hovering in midair over the sideboard. The one blemish on the otherwise perfect surface was in clear view. Alarm slid through her. The wooden bowl she’d positioned to hide the scratch was about two inches out of place.
    Even though she’d spent hours in a dingy warehouse auction to buy the old piece of furniture, it had been a liberating first step in putting her broken marriage behind her and starting fresh. It was a style Keith hated. That in itself was worth the price she’d paid.
    Unclenching her fingers, she dropped her keys into the bowl, and nudged it back into