“Coffee?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Tea, soda?”
“Nothing, thanks.”
Seth pushed some papers around on his desk, trying to see if his stall tactic made her nervous. It didn’t. He continued to shuffle things around. “So, why did you pick forensic psychology?”
“To understand why people commit crimes,” was her easy answer.
He lifted his eyes to hers and suggested, “Because they’re criminals?”
That elicited a smile from her. “Granted. But don’t you want to know the motives of the people you arrest?”
He shrugged. “Motive isn’t necessary for prosecution.”
She leaned forward to the edge of the desk.
Bad move, he decided. That simple action made the pale pink sweater further outline her delicious body. The delicious body he wasn’t supposed to be noticing.
“Don’t you feel better, though, when you know why a crime was committed?”
Reluctantly, he nodded. “I suppose.”
“Someday, law enforcement officers like you will be able to call on people like me to help you solve crimes by understanding the criminal.”
If I call you, it won’t be to discuss a criminal. “What got you interested in the psychology of crime?”
Seth noticed that she averted her gaze. He added that to his list.
“Because I think people sometimes get involved in crimes without even knowing it. They aren’t criminals, but our current system treats them as such.”
Seth stroked his chin and felt his annoyance level rise. “Nice answer. Did you get that from town gossip about Clayton? Did you think if you sounded the trumpets in defense of my brother I’d forget that you’re the prime suspect in two murders?”
Savannah’s reaction was quick and harsh. “I don’t know squat about your brother other than he’s in prison. I was speaking in the abstract.”
“It didn’t sound abstract,” Seth retorted. Then his mind went in a completely different direction. “Or, are you setting me up for a self-defense plea?”
“Self-defense?”
“Fowler and Whitlock wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you had no choice but to shoot them?”
Raw fury shone in her eyes. “I didn’t shoot anybody! I passed your paraffin tests after both shootings, remember?”
“That could just mean you wore gloves.”
Savannah stood and grabbed her coat, ramming her arms into the sleeves. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t wear gloves. And if this is your idea of a talk to clear a few things up, you and I have completely different definitions of the word talk. Goodbye, Sheriff.”
“Wait!”
She stilled at his commanding tone, but her angry eyes never left his face.
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“No.”
“Then I have every right to leave.”
“True, but I’d like to ask you two questions before you do.”
He could tell her acquiescence was only halfhearted. “Fine. Two questions.”
“Do the numbers 9-1-2 mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
She glared at him. “Is that your second question?”
Seth felt the string of his patience pull taut. “No, my second question is…why is there no trace of any Savannah Wyatt prior to your records from the University of Maryland?”
Chapter Three
“What do you mean, no trace?” Savannah challenged.
To Seth’s eyes, her body language was screaming retreat. He kept his gaze level. “I mean your social security number had no activity until six years ago. You have no credit history, never attempted to buy a home or an apartment. Nothing. Nada.”
“I didn’t work before college, and—” she paused and took in a long breath “—and I lived with my family, so I had no reason to use my social security card.”
“Let me see it.”
“What?” Savannah asked. He could almost smell her panic.
“I’d like to see your social security card,” he repeated evenly.
“I—it’s back at the cabin.”
Seth nodded. “Okay.” He reached for the telephone. “Then I’ll just call your family to verify your story.”
“You can’t!” Savannah fairly yelled.
Seth lifted one dark brow questioningly. “You do have parents I can call, right?”
He saw sadness glaze her beautiful eyes and realized his little game might backfire.
“They passed away,” she said softly. “Six years ago.”
Seth felt like every kind of fool. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “You get used to not having them around—eventually.”
“I know.”
Savannah looked at him through her feathery brown lashes. “You lost your parents, too?”
He gave a weak smile. “Sort of, I lost mine literally.”
“Excuse me?”
Seth drummed his thumbs against his desktop. “My mother ran off with another man.”
“How terrible.”
“Then my thickheaded father went after her. That was ten years ago. Haven’t seen or heard from either of them since.”
“That’s incredible,” Savannah said in a near whisper. “It must have been hard on you. But at least you had your brothers.”
Seth rubbed his face. “We all handled it differently. But we handled it, except for Shane. He’s the baby of the family. Runs the day-to-day at Lucky 7, when he isn’t trying in vain to impress Taylor Reese,” Seth said with a quick smile. “He wandered back into town about a year ago and took over.”
“Where was he wandering?”
“You have to understand, Shane and the old man didn’t get along very well. They had a huge blowout when Pop decided he was going to go out and bring back what was his—meaning my mother—Shane was only eighteen at the time and I guess he had to conduct his own search or something.”
“What about you?” Savannah asked. “Why can’t you find them? You’re a sheriff.”
“They don’t want to be found,” Seth said with conviction. “I spent two years contacting every jurisdiction in the country. If people want to disappear, they can.”
Savannah suddenly sat back down in the chair and offered her rapt attention. “Do you really think so? Do you really think a person can’t be found?”
Seth added this apparent interest in missing persons to his list. “Sure. If they’re careful.”
“Yes, I guess a person would have to be very careful not to be found,” she mused,