Question answered. She’d been dead to the world for hours.

And now she’d attracted the attention of law enforcement.

Wonderful.

“I’m coming. Give me a m-minute.” She picked up her pace, fumbled with the lock on the door, and pulled it open.

The glowering, uniformed officer on the porch, mouth set in a grim line, eyes cold as they swept over her, was . . . Jack?

Her jaw dropped.

The caring, kindhearted man she’d once known, who’d read philosophy and dreamed of writing a novel, had chosen a career in law enforcement? That was his day job?

As she tried to wrap her mind around that unexpected piece of news, Christi shoved her rat’s-nest hair back. Smoothed a hand down her wrinkled jacket. Too bad she’d kicked off her shoes last night. Another inch of height would give her more stature and self-confidence—and the hole in her sock wouldn’t be as obvious.

Jack’s gaze fixated on her exposed toe for a moment, then rose to her face. “You want to explain what you’re doing here?”

“I got stuck in the fog.” She gave him an abbreviated version of the story. “I was afraid to drive, and it was too cold to spend the night in my car.” She pulled out a tissue and swiped at her nose.

“How did you get in?”

“The door opened when I rapped with that.” She indicated the brass knocker.

“What happened to the padlock?”

“What padlock?”

“This door is always padlocked.”

“It wasn’t last night.”

He let a few beats pass. “I want to do a walk-through.”

She stepped aside. “Be my guest.”

“Is anyone else with you?”

“No.”

“Wait here.”

He left her to do a quick circuit of the house, stopping by the hearth after he finished. “Where did you get the logs for the fire?”

“They were here. Along with the matches. The fire was ready to be lit. For the record, I was planning to stop at the city offices and let someone know I’d stayed here. I was also going to offer to pay for the logs.”

Twin furrows creased his brow. “Why would all the material for a fire be here?”

“I have no idea.”

He fisted his hands on his hips and scrutinized her. “Are you in the habit of entering strange houses and spending the night?”

A spark of anger sprang to life deep inside her, and she slammed her arms across her chest. Tipped up her chin. “No, I am not. I was tired and cold and spooked about driving in the fog. I found an empty, unlocked house that offered shelter and warmth. I’m not going to apologize for taking advantage of that—especially since I planned to make it right this morning.”

“So you say.”

“I’m not lying.”

His lips twisted. “In light of our history, you’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

She deserved that.