“Livie? Maddie? You kids okay in there?” It was a man’s voice, authoritative, concerned, and familiar.

“Thank God,” Maddie said. “It’s Del.”

Olivia realized how tense she’d been as her shoulders dropped about a foot. Del was Sheriff Delroy Jenkins. He was only in his late thirties, but he always referred to younger women as kids. Olivia suspected it was his way of keeping some professional distance. Which was fine with her—she’d felt the occasional spark between them, but she wasn’t anywhere near ready for a new relationship. Her divorce was barely a year old.

Maddie unlocked the back door and flung it open. Sheriff Del stood in the dark alley, his hand on the butt of his service revolver. As he stepped closer to the doorway, his eyes darted around the kitchen.

“You scared the life out of us,” Maddie said. She grabbed the shoulder of Del’s uniform and pulled him inside.

The back door was small, and Del was one of the few men in town who didn’t have to duck to go through it. However, he was still taller than Olivia’s five foot seven. Which didn’t matter, she reminded herself, because there was nothing whatsoever between them.

Sheriff Del locked and bolted the door behind him.

“What the heck are you doing out there?” Maddie demanded. “Are you on night shift or something, or is this a cop thing, wandering around alleys at—well, whatever time it is, it’s still dark.”

Del had an easygoing, unflappable manner, but to Olivia he looked shaken.

“You two sure you’re okay in here?” Del asked, his eyes on the knife in Olivia’s hand.

Olivia held the knife up, pointing toward the ceiling. “Everything’s under control,” she said. “The body’s in the basement. Want to help bury it?”