“Yeah. She fought back, so hopefully they have enough for a DNA match when we catch him.” Coop pushed back in his chair. “Put in the details her right index finger is broken in two places.”
Jimmy hesitated, brow crinkled. “Is that important?”
“Maybe, maybe not. We check every detail so we can rule out what doesn’t apply. And the tidbit about the finger is need-to-know only for now. Got it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Get the teletype out before you do anything else.”
“Will do.” The deputy’s familiar affability disappeared and his voice resonated determination. “I’ve never been involved in a murder investigation. I wanna make sure I do stuff right.”
“By the book all the way, JD,” said Coop firmly, “by the book.”
Face tight, he nodded agreement and left the room.
Alone, Coop stared at the ancient computer screen. Modern technology had yet to make it to the Baker County Sheriff’s Office, but at least they had high speed internet. He spent the next hour surfing various law enforcement sites for anything useful, and got zero for his effort.
He still had a contact in the Dallas FBI office, so he left a message for him to return the call, hoping he could offer insight.
The ancient leather creaked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. God, I’m tired. And hungry. He rubbed his face and thought about the sandwich still sitting in the refrigerator. He left in such a hurry he forgot it.
“May I come in?”
At the sound of Sam’s sexy voice, desire flickered to life. Something about her struck every male molecule in his body, and apparently, he was powerless to do anything about it. Would he survive for two long weeks?
“Of course.” He stood and eyed the cloth-wrapped object in one hand, a thermos in the other. “If that’s food and decent coffee, I may have to kiss you.” The words were out before he could stop them, and heat flooded his cheeks.
She hesitated at the door, eyes widened slightly, then she stepped into the room, holding the plate out to him. “You left without eating the sandwich she left. I figured you’d be busy and not eat for a while, so I brought lunch.”
He looked at the clock on the wall, surprised to see it neared the noon hour. “Didn’t realize the time.” He took the plate, and flushed again when his stomach growled loudly in anticipation. “I’m starved.”
He moved back to his chair and sat down, the plate of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes slathered in cream gravy, a side of fresh peas and a biscuit getting all his attention.
Sam passed him napkin-wrapped utensils, along with the thermos, then sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “When did you eat last?” A light laugh punctuated the question.
“Candy bar at the morgue,” he mumbled around a mouthful of potatoes, “about midnight.” He sighed with contentment as he wolfed down the plate’s contents.
He finished the meal and poured himself a cup of real coffee from the thermos. This time, he couldn’t stifle the contented exhale as he took his first drink.
He’s not done.
He jumped at The Voice’s unexpected intrusion, barely able to remain in the chair, choking on the coffee he inhaled. He covered his mouth with the napkin as he sputtered and glanced at Sam.
She shuddered and shifted in her chair, arms folded across her chest as she glanced around the room.
For a moment, he questioned her response. Did she hear it, too? Not possible. I’m the one who hears voices in my head.
“Are you cold?” He was surprised his voice sounded so calm considering his racing heart.
She rubbed her forearms. “Had a sudden chill.” Her gaze focused on the overhead air vent. “I should have brought a jacket. You could hang meat in here.”
Thankful for the diversion, he swiped his mouth with the napkin and stood. “I’m hot-natured.” Heat rushed to his face again, and this time, it was he who avoided eye contact. “We’ll get your statement, and you can be on your way.”
“I’m good. Unless you want to do it right now.”
She gasped and those baby blue’s locked on his, the easily inferred double-meaning loud and clear.
Frozen in time, neither moved.
He heard each hasty breath she took, saw the rapid pulse at the base of her graceful neck. Unable to stop, his gaze dropped to slightly-parted full lips, and fixed on the tongue lightly tracing the lower one. He just managed to stifle a groan as forbidden images sent blood rushing south.
He gave himself a mental kick, and stomped to the coat rack in front of the window. He grabbed his jacket and handed it to her. “JD will take you next.” He stumbled as he returned to his chair and picked up his cup. “Your statement. He’ll be back shortly and get your statement.”
Well, hell. Just pull the pin on the damn grenade and be done with it.
Sam draped the leather jacket around her shoulders and flinched as the stimulating scent of leather and man assailed her nostrils. Self-control vanished around him; like a marionette whose strings are pulled by unseen hands. The harder she tried to deny the attraction, the stronger it persisted.
It’s pointless to get involved with him. I’m only here for two weeks. There’s no room in my life for romance. Not now, maybe never.
Her brain might know it, but her body had other notions. She doggedly pulled her wandering thoughts together and looked at him.
Bad idea.
The intensity radiating from those storm-cloud eyes drew her like a magnet. She tried to throttle back the dizzying current racing through her, to no avail.
The fact that he felt it too showed in his own labored breathing, the flared nostrils, and the hand clutching his coffee cup so tight, the knuckles turned white.
