“You OK?”
“Cat.”
I squinted at the clock. My thong obscured the digits.
“Time?” Monosyllables were all I could handle.
“Six.”
Ryan molded our bodies together like spoons.
“Did you get my message?” Larabee asked.
A protrusion was forming where the bowl of Ryan’s spoon met the handle.
“Message?”
“I called around eight last night.”
“I was out.” And too busy getting nooky to check my voice mail.
“I couldn’t score a dog to save my life. Your chow zeroed in on those bear bones, so I figure he must have a nose for rot. Thought maybe you could bring him along today.”
The protrusion was growing, severely hampering my ability to concentrate.
“Boyd’s not cadaver trained.”
“Better than nothing.”
Larabee had never met Boyd.
“By the way, Sheila Jansen got a match on the Cessna pilot.”
I sat up, raised my knees, and pulled the quilt to my chin.
“That was quick.”
“Harvey Edward Pearce.”
“Dentals?”
“Plus the snake tattoo. Harvey Pearce is a thirty-eight-year-old white male from Columbia, North Carolina, out near the Outer Banks. Popped right up on the NCIC search.”
“Pearce’s only been dead since Sunday. Why were his identifiers in the system?”
“Seems Harvey’s ex wasn’t real patient about child support. Hubby skipped a payment, the little woman reported him missing.”
“And Harvey missed a few.”
“You’ve got it. Eventually the locals got wise to the bogus missing person reports, but not before Harvey’s personal stats were well known to the law.”
Ryan tried to draw me back to him. I pointed a finger and scrunched my face into an exaggerated frown, as I would with Boyd.
“Where exactly is Columbia?”
“About half an hour west of Manteo on US 64.”
“Dare County?”
“Tyrrell County. See you in an hour at the farm. Bring the dog.”
Clicking off, I faced the first problem of the day.
I could bolt from the room naked. Or I could take the quilt, leaving Ryan to fend for himself.
I was opting for a bare-ass sprint when Ryan’s arm snaked around my waist. I looked down at him.
His eyes were fixed on my face. Amazing eyes. In the pale gray of dawn they looked almost cobalt.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?” Tentative.
“I respect you with my whole heart and my whole soul, ma’am.” Somber as an evangelical preacher.
I drummed my fingers on his chest. “You’re not half bad yourself, cowboy.”
We shared a laugh.
Ryan tipped his head at the phone. “Sheriff rounding up a posse?”
I lowered my voice, CIA style. “If I told you that, I might have to kill you.”
Ryan nodded knowingly.
“Could you and the boys use an extra hand?”
“Seems we could. But they’ve only requested Boyd.”
He feigned disappointment. Then, “Could you put in a word, ma’am?”
I finger-drummed his chest again.
