Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) by Mari Manning Page A

“There’s something on the porch.”
    “Were you expecting a package?”
    “No.”
    Rafe took the steps two at a time and bent to examine the object. “What’s wrong with people?” He muttered the question under his breath.
    Dinah clambered up the steps after him. As soon as she saw the Old English type she knew what it was. The Sunday edition of the Austin American Statesman . Beneath a small red, white, and blue banner— Happy Fourth! Parade Information on Page 3 —tomorrow’s headline blared at her in thick black letters: “What Happened to the $250,000?” Underneath it was her father’s mug shot and a grainy photo of Dinah gazing into the black waters of the quarry.

Chapter Nine
    It was Wednesday, and the stream of rubberneckers cruising past the bungalow had slowed to a drip. What did they think they were going to see anyway? A giant safe on the front lawn? A mountain of gold? A palace rising among the humble homes in her blue-collar neighborhood? She’d spent most of her time in her bedroom, studying her father’s letter, when another uninvited guest knocked.
    “Go away.”
    More knocking. “It’s the police, ma’am.”
    The words drifted through her bedroom window in a voice that was definitely not Rafe’s. Still, it could be a ruse to get her out of the house. She shouted down the stairs. “Hollyn? Can you get that, please?”
    Hollyn crept into the hallway. “It’s the police. I saw a squad car outside.”
    “Well, go on then. Open the door.”
    Hollyn shook her head. “Can you?” She smoothed down the thick football jersey she insisted on wearing. “I’m not dressed for visitors.”
    That was a load of cow pies. Hollyn had been all over town in the jersey. Dinah had offered her some of Daddy’s old cotton shirts, but she clung tight to the thick jersey. As far as Dinah could tell, Hollyn even wore it to bed. She wondered when it got washed. But everyone had their little neuroses, and in Hollyn’s case, it was the cops…and maybe that dang jersey.
    “Call through the door. Tell him I’ll be with him in a minute.”
    Dinah ducked back into her room, stuck the letter into Itsy Bitsy’s neck, and twisted the head on. She inspected herself in the mirror. T-shirt and cut-offs. Not much better than Hollyn’s outfit. But she wasn’t afraid of a small-town cop.
    The officer was lanky and too pale for the Texas sun. He tipped his hat and shot her a thick-lipped smile. “Can I come in and talk to you for a few minutes, ma’am?”
    His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and she took a powerful dislike to him right off. “Do you have a warrant”—She glanced at his badge and nametag—“Officer Swope?”
    His smile faded. If she could have seen past his mirrored sunglasses, she suspected his eyes would be hard. Something was off about this dude.
    He cleared his throat. “This is a courtesy call, ma’am. I noticed all the activity in the neighborhood, and Morales, uh, Officer Morales mentioned you were alone here so I came by to see if you were all right.”
    Rafe’s name softened her mood, and she tried to make up for her rude behavior. “My sincere apologies, Officer Swope. I didn’t mean to be so sharp with you.” Begrudgingly, she threw down the welcome mat. “If you’d like to come in for a moment, we can talk inside.”
    “Thank you.” He removed his Stetson and stepped into the foyer.
    “Shall we sit down?” She led him into the living room. He sat on the sofa. She chose a chair. “What’s on your mind, Officer?”
    “Please call me Derek.”
    No way. “I’m a little busy so if you could, uh, tell me what you want from me, I’d surely appreciate it.”
    He smiled and a note of insinuation threaded his voice. “As I said, this is more of a personal call.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I wondered if you’d like to step out with me tonight. Maybe we could grab something to eat, then go back to my place, have a few beers, see what happens.”
    Dinah had been