The Summerland by T. L. Schaefer Page B

particularly hospitable, Arden decided to strike out now, drifting immediately to that serene place that outdoor runners, joggers, and walkers inhabit as soon as they take that first stride. Her mind cleared almost magically as she set her attention to putting one foot in front of the other, setting her pace. As she stretched out her long legs, her eyes ate up the scenery, touching on the golden hillsides rising even higher than her present location. They were dotted with magnificent oaks and some sort of scraggly, anemic looking pine tree.
    As she ran, the rhythm of the march filled her mind, making her jog a simple, soothing thing. She didn’t think about her sister’s disappearance, or her car, or the fact that her perverted mind kept returning to the way the Sheriff filled out his Wrangler’s. She ran for the sheer joy of running. As she completed her fifth lap, she noticed her fellow runner sitting on the bleachers, taking a breather. Even though he surely couldn’t see her, she dipped her head in the unconscious salute shared by runners throughout the world. Deciding that this lap would be her last, she turned it on, burning off the last of the hash browns and biscuits with gravy, sprinting down the final 100 yards of track, then slowing down to a fast walk for a one-lap cool-down. This lap was for thinking.
    Why was she so sure that Samantha had something to do with these murders? Shit, she couldn’t even find Samantha, let alone confirm or deny that she was missing. Throwing her arms in big circles, she continued her brisk walk. There was just something, she conceded. It felt right. She really couldn’t see Samantha missing the chance to hit up her little sister for more than the loan, or theft, of her car unless something was wrong. Like being on the run.
    Of all the people in the world, Samantha seemed to be the only one who could ruin her with a word or a look. She liked to think that their long separation had changed that, but seriously doubted it. Since their parent’s untimely death, Sam had been her only family, her sole touchstone to a childhood framed by golden memory. She’d been looking to recapture that sense of love and wonder for a long time, hence her disastrous relationship and marriage to Tom. How in the hell could she have dated, much less married, a man named Tom Jones?
    With a wry smile pursing her lips, she headed to the bleachers to stretch thoroughly before beginning the walk back to town. While dusk had yet to fall, shadows were beginning to collect underneath the massive oaks, leaving huge pools of purple beneath them. The aluminum bleachers looked so high school, but then again, she thought aloud, they probably were.
    “ You’re right. This is where the high school plays soccer and has its track meets.” Bill Ashton materialized out of the burgeoning gloom. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, Captain Jones.”
    Jesus, he even managed to look sheepish, thought Arden, as she surveyed her fellow runner. “No problem Sheriff, and you might as well call me Arden. It looks like we’re going to be bumping into each other here and there. It’s nice to see I’m not the only crazed runner in town.”
    She rocked back on her heels, savoring his appearance. The endorphins released by good, clean exercise shot through her system, compelling her to take a long look at him, from the sweat drying on his brow to the deliciously tight Nike shorts encasing those amazing buns. A small curl of tawny chest hair escaped the confines of his tank top, matching the light dusting on his powerful forearms and thighs. Her eyes roved upward, skimming over his expressive features, taking in the faint flush of exertion that highlighted his strong cheekbones and slightly crooked nose. She had actually begun to mentally run her fingers through his thick tawny hair when she realized she was on the edge of staring. Disgusted with herself and her runaway hormones, she concentrated instead on the character lines