The Christi he’d known in St. Louis wouldn’t have wasted a nanosecond on the sidelights.

He gave her a more thorough inspection. Fashion wasn’t his forte, but her attire didn’t seem high-end. The jeans were practical and well-worn, not those skinny high-priced ones she used to prefer. Her sport shoes were scuffed. Her jacket showed signs of wear. Not to mention the sock with the gaping hole.

She was also thin. Too thin. And she’d made no attempt to mask the shadows under her lower lashes or her gauntness with makeup. In fact, the woman who’d once placed a high priority on grooming wasn’t wearing any cosmetics as far as he could see. Nor did her hair reflect the cut of a pricey salon. It was hard to tell what style it was under all the tangles, but it appeared to be a simple, straightforward cut.

As if sensing his perusal, she glanced toward him. A faint flush crept over her cheeks, and she dropped her hand from the glass. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you up.” Hefting the bedding higher, she walked out the door.

He followed more slowly. “Are you going back to town?”

“Yes.” She continued to the older-model Nissan that was a far cry from the sporty Jaguar convertible she’d driven eleven years ago. “I’ll stick close until I hear back from you.” She stowed the bedding in the back seat.

“It won’t be me. My shift is over. The chief herself may call—or another officer.”

“Okay.” She straightened up, her expression neutral, and motioned toward his cruiser. “You’re blocking the drive.”

“I have to secure the door, but I’ll back onto the road to let you out first.” He surveyed the cottage. “The owner will want to replace the padlock—and consider installing a security system if vagrants are using this place.”

“I don’t think they are. I didn’t get the feeling anyone had ever spent a night here.”

“The supply of wood and missing lock would indicate otherwise.”

“I can’t speak to the lock, but the fireplace had never been used.” She fished out a tissue and wiped her nose. “The bricks inside were pristine. Even one fire would have left scorch marks.”

That was true.

Which made the whole setup she’d found all the more strange.

But this wasn’t his mystery to solve. All he had to do was secure the door, have someone contact the owner, and write up a brief report. After that, he could wash his hands of the whole matter—and of Christi.

The sooner the better.

“I’ll move my vehicle.”

“Thanks.” She zipped her jacket against the morning chill but remained standing by her car. As if she wanted to continue their conversation.