THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

until he found a movie they could watch.
    “I probably ought to head home,” she said.
    “Why don’t you stay here? Or I can drive you home, then come back and pick you up in the morning to go to the police department in Southampton County. You haven’t slept. You don’t need to be behind the wheel.”
    “No. Don’t be silly. You don’t have to do that.”
    Scott cocked a brow. “We’re adults, and I do have a guest room.”
    She sat up. “The guest room?”
    “Sure.”
    She relaxed back into his arms. “Okay. I am kind of comfy. Can I borrow the sweats to sleep in?”
    “Anything you want.”
    She fell asleep in his arms, still in her clothes, within the hour. He finished watching the movie and then turned off the television.
    Kasey didn’t stir. She had to be exhausted. He wrapped his arms around her and snuggled his chin into the nook of her shoulder. That’s where they stayed, there on the couch, all night.
     
    * * * *
     
    Scott held Kasey in his arms. The sun hadn’t been up long, but his body clock had tripped about fifteen minutes ago.
    Kasey stirred.
    “Good morning,” whispered Scott, then kissed her hair. “Did you sleep well?”
    She twisted to look up at him. “I did. Thank you.”
    “How are you feeling today? Fresh air and good sleep make you feel a little stronger?”
    She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
    “Repeat after me,” he said. “Jake is coming home. I know it in my heart and mind.”
    She repeated each word and took his hand in hers.
    He rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand. “We pray for his safe return and know that God will bring him home.”
    “We pray for his safe return and know that God will bring him home,” she said, followed by a deep breath. “And with you here to help me, how could I go wrong?”
    “I wasn’t going to say that,” he teased.
    “But I mean it. Thanks, Scott.”
    He squeezed her tight. “Are you ready for some coffee?”
    “Don’t move. I can’t cook, but I make a mean cup of coffee.” She stood and stretched her arms over her head. “Last night is the first whole night’s sleep I’ve had in a while. Thanks for yesterday.”
    “I had a nice day, too.” He swatted at her butt with a throw pillow as she headed out of the room.
    She went into the kitchen, then leaned back into the room. “Where’s the coffee?”
    “In the cabinet right above the coffeepot.”
    “Got it,” she said. “Don’t move.”
    He plopped back on the couch, waiting.
    A few minutes later Kasey walked in carrying a mug in each hand. “Here you go.”
    He took a sip of the coffee. “You’re right. Perfect.”
    “What time are we going to the station?” she asked.
    “I told them we’d be there around eight-thirty.”
    “Good. We’ve got some time. I’m going to run down to the boathouse and see the puppies while you shower and get ready. Is that okay?”
    “Sure. And hey, while you’re down there, will you feed Maggie and put a bowl of the soft food out for the puppies?”
    Kasey grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the door. “You got it.”
     
    At the station, Kasey and Scott followed their escort to a big room with only a table in it, and six large boxes of files and evidence from the case.
    “Goodness gracious. Where do we start?” Kasey looked at the numbered boxes stacked on the floor.
    “Systematic approach. Let’s start with number one,” Scott said. “You review the log, and I’ll look over the items. Then we’ll switch.”
    Kasey opened the box. The summary sheet was long, with the bagged evidence neatly lined up in the box. Scott reviewed the contents of each bag, placing a cardboard divider in its place to insure they maintained the logged order.
    After three tedious hours, they’d reviewed the content of two boxes. Even though the items were catalogued, going through them was still a mind-numbing exercise. The original investigative team had spent weeks examining the evidence, piece-by-piece, cataloging and tagging every little snippet they’d collected before Hurricane Ernesto hit.
    Scott ordered lunch in so they wouldn’t have to stop the review. They continued to work through the junk. That’s what most of it was: Trash, wrappers, coins, cigarette butts, even a miniature American flag, but nothing that yielded any ah-ha moments.
    Kasey put the last plastic bag back in box three.
    “That’s it,” she said.
    “I’d hoped maybe something would trigger a thought or an idea, or make the connection to