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today to keep him in sight. They weren’t dating. He had a job to do. So did she, but she kept getting distracted with inappropriate thoughts about him.
    Focus, Laurie Ann . She needed to wear comfortable clothes in case she needed to move fast to protect him. Pants, then. Those new jeans Donna had talked her into buying last month came to mind. She hadn’t worn them yet, but this would be the perfect time to break them in. And maybe that light pink top. Donna had said it brought out the color in her cheeks.
    Decision made, she showered and dressed, quite pleased with how energized she felt in her new clothes. She dug around in a bathroom drawer and found a dust-coated bag of cosmetics. Makeup wasn’t her forte, but she knew how to use it. How much would be appropriate for a picnic? Too much would make her look trampy. Too little and why bother?
    She settled on a light coat of mascara and a soft pink lip gloss. Carrying her gun would be over the top, so she locked it in the glove compartment of her vehicle. Taking the squad car would give her more options, but folks would wonder why she drove it to a church picnic. The Mustang was a better choice.
    She grabbed the potato salad and took off. On the drive to his hotel, her thoughts turned to the scrap metal investigation. Neither Harlow nor the chief had mentioned how that was going. It had been a few weeks since the last round of thefts, which meant a few weeks of the thieves sitting on their loot. Big pieces would be broken up so that compressors, fins and the like could be sold separately.
    Thieves didn’t realize the like-new appearance of stolen property was an instant tell. Rarely was it as rusty or beat up as a true scrapped product. She was tempted to call her contact at the scrap yard to pass the time of day, but she’d be poaching on Harlow’s assignment.
    Not a good choice.
    Chief Tyler expected her to stay focused on Wyatt North. His alleged mental instability didn’t track with her personal perception of him. Sure, he was wound tight, but what was wrong with that? Being alert and aware were good traits. They’d kept her alive more than once.
    A dirty white van pulling a flatbed trailer passed by in the opposite direction. She automatically looked in her rearview mirror, and the trailer contained household items. A washer and dryer. A fridge. A bed frame. A push mower. Gardening tools.
    There were smaller items in the trailer, but that was all she identified on the first glance. Every one of those items was metal. She replayed the image in her mind. No mattress. She was certain of it. People moving their possessions would have a bed to sleep in.
    Instinct nudged her to turn around and follow the trailer. Oh, she wanted to. And if she was in her squad car, she would pull them over. But she wasn’t in her squad car. She was in her Mustang, out of uniform, and on her way to pick up a VIP.
    Her job was on the line.
    And she was pretty darn sure her thieves listened to the police radio. She called dispatch on her cell phone. “This may be something,” she began. After she reported the information, she hung up, hoping her tip would lead to a break in the scrap metal case. Whoever was behind the thefts had stayed a step ahead of them so far.
    Was it someone she knew and trusted?
    As she passed Marshview Realty, she saw her friends Megan and Roxie working. Megan was a newlywed, and Roxie was engaged. Both Noreen Bagwell and Rudell Striker’s cars were still at Sheryl’s Diner. Their big romance was supposed to be top secret, but anyone who saw the two city council members together knew they were dating.
    The people she knew weren’t thieves. They were respectable and trustworthy.
    More than that, she realized glumly, they were in love.
    Good for them.
    She waved at Mrs. Muriel and Mr. Joffrey. They rolled down the sidewalk to the grocery store in matching motorized wheelchairs.
    Tick tock went her internal clock.
    Everyone was pairing up.
    Everyone but