Her shoulders slumped, and she let her arms drop back to her sides. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“Even if you didn’t break the lock to get in, you are trespassing. I’ll have to contact the owner, see if they want to press charges.” He pulled out his cell.

“Fine. I’ll clean up while you do that. Remember to tell them I was going to pay for the logs.”

She crossed to the hearth as he exited. After sweeping up the still-warm ashes from last night’s fire, she deposited them in the can beside the fireplace, put on her shoes, folded up her blankets—and waited for the verdict.

One thing for sure.

Given his hostile attitude, if Jack had any say about it, she’d end up behind bars for the duration of her stay in town.

So much for Charley Lopez’s claim that Hope Harbor was a welcoming community.

Jack kept the phone to his ear as he walked several yards away from Sea Glass Cottage, even though there was no one on the other end of the line. Pretending to place a call had been the first excuse he could think of to buy himself a few minutes to mull over next steps.

There was no need to have the city manager track down contact information on the owner. He’d had that since he’d sold his book and could afford to buy a house of his own instead of rent an apartment. And this place had been on his radar from the day he’d spotted it three years ago, during his first patrol circuit.

Every inquiry he’d sent to the management company that handled the property had been rebuffed, however. The owner wasn’t interested in selling. Yet the cottage, while well maintained, remained empty.

It didn’t make sense.

As for how the anonymous owner would feel about a stranger taking refuge on the premises—impossible to know until the management company offices opened in an hour or two and the department called to ask.

In the meantime, what was he supposed to do with Christi?

He raked his fingers through his hair as two seagulls circled overhead, the rising sun gilding their wings.

Taking her to the station would be extreme—but could he trust her to stay in town until the property owner weighed in?

Impossible to say.

While she seemed sincere about wanting to compensate the owner for her uninvited stay, that could be an illusion. An act. She’d been a master at pretending, once.

A knot formed in his stomach, and he gritted his teeth. Rehashing the past was not productive. He should rebury the painful memories her appearance had resurrected and focus on the present.