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time for this, but his job was partially political in nature, and this man’s brother was a minor celebrity in Colorado, so he tempered his annoyance. “And this someone would be your mother?”
    “Actually, I have a lot of siblings. It’s very possible one or more of us will join our mother here.”
    “I see. Would this be a seasonal stay—you’d be summer residents?”
    “Mother is on an extended Mediterranean cruise with her sister, my aunt Bridget. She wouldn’t arrive here until the fall. It’s possible some of us might spend the winter here.”
    “In that case, I’ll give you a year-round report. Most important as far as I’m concerned is that we only have one really good restaurant in town—the Yellow Kitchen—and the owner, Ali Timberlake, doesn’t like Mexican food, so you’re pretty much SOL if you crave enchiladas. Eternity Springs residents consider early March the best time to go on a warm-weather vacation, since that’s when winter weighs upon a man. Beyond those two things, I think it’s important to know that the pace of life here is slow, and in the winter it crawls. Not everyone is cut out for it.”
    Romano studied Zach. “You like it here?”
    “I do, but then I enjoy winter sports.”
    “What if you’re not a sports enthusiast? Are there any book clubs in town?”
    Zach nodded. “We have a book club and a quilt group and church groups. Honestly, people who live here are not any different from people who live elsewhere. We work, we play, we laugh, we love.…” Movement outside his office window distracted him momentarily and reminded him of that background check he’d yet to find time to make. Savannah Moore sashayed across the street carrying a brown lunch sack. When she took a seat on his favorite bench beside Angel Creek, another observation just rolled off his tongue. “We lust.”
    He pulled his gaze back to Romano and found the man smirking. A little embarrassed, Zach brought his chin up. “Eternity Springs is a good place. It’s my job to make sure it stays that way. I hope I’ve been of somehelp to you, Mr. Romano. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back at it.”
    “Of course.” Romano stood and extended his hand. “I appreciate your time and your insight, Sheriff.”
    The man’s grip was firm and confident, his smile easy and genuine. Yet, as he sauntered out the door, Zach found himself frowning after him. Something about Max Romano made his trouble radar go off. What was it?
    His gaze shifted back to the window and locked on the creekside bench where Savannah sat eating a sandwich. Maybe Romano wasn’t the source of his unease, after all. Maybe the visitor simply had been caught in the fallout from Savannah Moore.
    “Barney freaking Fife,” he muttered, the bruise to his ego as annoying as it had been a week ago.
    Since Zach had barely had time to breathe since then, he hadn’t found time to follow up on his questions about the Georgia peach. He would take care of that right now. He had asked Ginger to begin the process earlier that week, so he dug around for the note she’d left on his desk with sultry Savannah’s license plate number. He found the paper beneath a stack of faxes, turned to his computer, and went to work. Within minutes, he had confirmed that she was thirty years old and that Georgia was her previous state of residence.
    Then a screen popped up that stopped him. “Well, hell.”
    He drummed his fingers on his keyboard for a moment as he thought about what to do. Abruptly he deleted the form, then ran a criminal history check through the Colorado Crime Information Center and National Crime Information Center databases.
    He got a hit and repeated, “Well, hell.”
    Next he ran a QR, a query rap sheet. What came back had his stomach taking a nauseated roll. Son of a bitch. Right under his nose .
    Ginger returned to the office with his lunch to find Zach staring blindly out the window. “What are you looking at, Zach?”
    He let out