Blame It on Texas by Christie Craig

neighborhood as one that had the highest crime rates on this side of town. Why was Zoe living here? Was she hoping to become a statistic? Gorgeous redheaded Alabamian falls prey to Texas crime.
    He turned onto her street and slammed on his brakes when he caught an address. Half a block down the road he found it. Her place was actually a run-down house turned into run-down apartments. He actually remembered a suspect he’d investigated once who lived here a few years back. The place had been a pigsty then.
    He parked in the street, and the tightness in his chest lessened when he saw her car. But the hair on the back of his neck stood up as if someone was watching him. Looking around, he reached into his shirt and released his shoulder holster.
    He got to her door and knocked. No one answered. Leaning close, he called out. “Zoe? It’s Tyler.”
    He waited about fifteen seconds before his patience wore out. He moved to the window. Instead of a curtain, there was a sheer piece of fabric. He could see right through it. Perfect for a Peeping Tom… or worse.
    His gaze shifted from the emptiness to the few itemsfilling the room. The thread-worn and stained sofa looked like someone had picked it up from somebody else’s curb. The carpet had bald spots, and, while it looked like it used to be orange, it now matched the dirty brown sofa.
    Unsure how to proceed, he moved back to the door and knocked with enthusiasm. Finally, he reached for the knob and turned it. It actually opened. A frown tightened his mouth. She lived in the gutter of town and didn’t bother to lock her door?
    He stepped inside. “Zoe?”
    No one answered. He stuck his hand under his shirt and gripped his gun, tempted to bring it out, but he didn’t want to stumble across her and scare her. Assuming she was here.
    His gaze shifted left to right, looking for signs of a struggle. Nothing looked out of place. He took a few more steps.
    “Zoe?” he called again, and then moved to the table. A laptop sat on it. Giving it a glance, he then looked into the tiny kitchen. As much of a dump as the place was, there wasn’t a crumb on the faded Formica counter or a dirty dish in the sink.
    He moved back to the table and noticed the laptop was on. He touched it and the screen woke up. It took about a second for him to recognize the article. “Great.” She knew all his dirty little secrets. The knowledge stung, although he wasn’t sure why. The whole damn world knew. And half of them still considered him a dirty cop, like Dixie at the diner.
    Beside the laptop was a half-empty bag of baby carrots, a bowl of what looked like dressing, and her cell phone. He touched the bowl to see if it was still cold.Nope. He started to step away from the table, when he saw her purse on a kitchen chair.
    If her car and purse were here, where the hell was she?
    He looked back to the hall. It obviously led to the bedroom and bath. A fear that he’d catch her stepping out of the shower had a vision filling his head. The fear quickly changed to something completely different. To cover his ass, he called her name as he moved down the hall.
    The bathroom door, halfway down the hall, stood open. A new shower curtain—a bright red and green checkered pattern—hung from a shower rod. Somehow he knew Zoe had added that little furnishing. The bathroom smelled like a clean woman. Stationed at different places in the bathroom, he saw the feminine-smelling soap, some newish-looking towels, and a few small bottles of skin care products. What the bathroom didn’t contain was the very moist, fresh-smelling, and naked Zoe he’d been envisioning.
    He started into the bedroom. The thought hit that she might be asleep and hadn’t heard him. In which case, she’d probably be upset that he’d invited himself in. His gaze shot straight to the bed when he stepped in the room.
    Empty. A blanket was stretched out on top of the bed. Not so neatly in place that one could consider the bed made, but enough