All The Stars In Heaven by Michele Paige Holmes Page A

things had come from some secondhand store. She tried not to think about someone else’s skin touching the fabric, another person’s feet wearing the shoes. She took a can of Lysol from her shelf and sprayed the pants, shirt, and shoes inside and out. When she finished, she was coughing, and her nose burned with the antiseptic smell.
    Kills ninety-nine percent of germs, she told herself as she dressed quickly, saving the shirt until after she’d rinsed and braided her hair. But she was already counting the hours until she could shower tonight.
    Thirty-eight minutes after her father had sent her to get ready, she emerged in full costume. Over the years she’d also learned not to be late.
    “I’m ready,” she announced as she walked into the living room. Her father was in the chair where she’d left him.
    “You look good,” he said. “You’ll fit right in with the crowd.”
    “What crowd?” Sarah asked warily.
    “College students mostly. It’s a much safer beat than you’ve had. These rave parties are becoming popular—and a real concern. We’ve got to get a handle on them before they grow too much. You feel better in that getup?”
    She nodded. Aside from being grossed out about who the outfit’s previous owners might have been, she did feel better. Gone were the plunging neckline, too-short skirt, and dreaded heels. She didn’t miss the itchy wig either, though her hair felt like straw and she was worried the dye wouldn’t wash out as easily as the box promised. “It’s better. Thanks.”
    He nodded and cleared his throat. “Come here so I can tell you what’s up with this group. There’s been an infusion of drugs around the university lately. We think a new dealer is moving in and—”
    “Cambridge?” Sarah said bleakly. “You want me to work near the university? Isn’t that out of your jurisdiction?”
    “Yes and no. There are several cities working together on this. The more we cooperate with each other, the better chance we have of getting the stuff off the street. But you’ll still be in Summerfield. There are a couple of clubs . . .”
    Sarah focused as her father explained her assignment and showed her the pictures of the contacts. Only after her gun was secured beneath her sweatshirt, the cash was stuffed in the front pocket of her jeans, and she’d climbed into Carl’s old truck did she finally allow her mind to wander again.
    Ignoring Carl’s suggestion that she scoot closer, she leaned her head against the passenger window, welcoming the cold that both kept her awake and renewed her sense of longing for escape. Feeling as trapped as if she were behind bars, Sarah pressed her fingers to the glass, wishing she were on the other side. The night was dark and cloudy, and she felt gloom descending. Letting the cold seal off her emotions, she prepared to do the job she hated.

Chapter Ten
    With several grocery bags in each hand, Jay kicked the door shut behind him and headed for the compact galley kitchen in their apartment. Entering the narrow space, he saw Trish sitting on the far counter beside the sink, her arms wrapped around Archer, who stood in front of her. Eyes closed, she murmured something unintelligible as she leaned forward, covering his lips with hers.
    Doing his best to ignore the two of them, Jay set the bags on the floor and opened the fridge. He began shuffling things around—mostly moldy and green—making room for the food he’d bought.
    “Do you mind?” Archer asked, pulling away from Trish long enough to send Jay a look of annoyance. “We’re trying to have a moment of privacy here.”
    “Sure. I’ll just let my milk curdle while you two go at it.” Jay tossed a container of take-out Chinese toward the trash and continued putting his food away.
    “ Excellent —you bought milk.” Mike sauntered into the kitchen, pajamas pants flapping, though it was well past noon. “Did ya get some cereal to go with it?” He grabbed the carton from Jay, popped it