‘Rough Christmas was it?’ He was speaking to her gently, which was a surprise as rough as he looked. His hands were massive and calloused, his bod... big in a beefcake way. More like a prize fighter—or a baggage handler, she thought, and then felt ashamed that she was stereotyping him. Other than the hands, the globe and anchor tattoo on his bicep—a former Marine, perhaps?—and the somewhat displaced nose, which had surfaced the thought of prize fighter—that and his bulging arm muscles—he was. "I'm trying to locate a Jason O'Neill. I have reason to believe that he used to live here. I had hoped that I might find him or news of him here."I snapped. "Jason hasn't been home since June."The man looked right at me for a moment and then looked over his notes. He seemed puzzled. "You seem rather confident in that, Miss..." O'Neill," Monique replied. "Her name is Rebecca O'Neill and she's Jason's sister."The man appeared totally shocked. "But you both just told me that no one lives in this. More

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