"What the--" Sarah's voice trailed off. She stared stun at what she hoped was mirage.
"Hi, hon. Have you seen my red polo shirt?"
The mirage spoked in the form of her ex-husband. Mike stood in the middle of her living
room, a white bath towel hung low on his waist.
She stood gawking like a sixteen-year-old. Angry, Sarah sucked out a breath. "Mike, you have one minute to explain why you're here, before I call Sherrif Hopson?"