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  She wanted to be his partner, not his problem. That thought came on her swiftly, the memories of their kiss winging right back along, as well. The noise in the house and the scare from the book—about Michigan, of all things?—had erased their kiss from her immediate thoughts, but now that Troy was sitting here, looking like the very source of safety in his big, broad shoulders and large, capable hands, the memory was back.

  Her lips still tingled from the feel of his. Her body was still warm in all the places that muscular form had pressed against her. And for the first time, Evangeline had to wonder if she was in real danger. She believed in the GGPD’s ability to watch out for her and keep her safe.

  But she had no idea how she was going to hide the very real feelings of attraction she had for Troy. Feelings she’d kept tamped down for so long, which she now had a glimmer of hope about.

  * * *

  Troy poured boiling water from the teakettle into two mugs. He hadn’t gotten much more out of his discussion with Evangeline. Any questions he posed about her feelings of being watched were met with vague descriptions.

  How did you use that? The reality was that you couldn’t.

  While he didn’t disregard her feelings, the sensation of being watched was different than actually being able to describe someone. Height, build, possible weight. All of it was needed to go find a suspect.

  Again, his thoughts swirled around the subject of Len Davison. Was the man escalating? Did he have Evangeline in his sights? His initial concern—that Davison was breaking pattern—was still there, but Troy knew it wasn’t the only answer. If Davison had put his focus on Evangeline, it could also be out of a desire to remove an obstacle from his path.

  Yes, she’d been instrumental to ensuring Davison stayed out of jail, but now that she knew the truth, she was a voice for putting him away. It could be enough to break pattern.

  And what about Bowe?

  Troy nearly bobbled the mug, as his hand tightened on the handle, his anger at Randall Bowe a living thing. Damn, but the man had done damage. Terrible damage that had cost people their lives.

  Righting both mugs in his hands, Troy walked back to the living room. That peaked look had left her features, but Evangeline still appeared wrung out from the day’s events, her legs curled under her on the large oversize chair that sat offset from her couch. Had it only been a matter of hours since she put that 911 call into the precinct?

  Yes, he thought with no small measure of surprise, it had.

  In that time, he had been forced to question her motives more than once, and yet still managed to kiss her. An act that was so far out of line he was still upbraiding himself for the personal slip.

  “Here’s your tea.” He set one of the mugs down on the small coffee table before taking his own seat on the couch.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course,” Troy said.

  “Do you believe me?”

  “I believe you believe what you’re telling me.”

  As answers went, he knew it was unsatisfactory, but he had nothing else to give her and he wasn’t going to prevaricate on an answer to make her feel better. The reality was, this was an active investigation barely six hours old.

  “I guess that’s something.” Her tone was flat as she stared into her mug.

  “It is something, Evangeline.” Troy leaned forward, setting his mug on the coffee table. He wanted her to understand his perspective, even if it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I’m not going to lie to you. And I’m not going to give you information that is untrue. But just as I told you before, I can’t tell you everything. And I take my job seriously enough to do it the right and proper way.”

  Even if I did kiss you.

  It continued to haunt him. He’d kissed her. Really kissed her, the sort that had mouths and breaths and bodies mingling as they joined. And it had been all he had ever imagined. All he’d hoped, really.

  It was funny, Troy realized, that all this time he’d admired her from afar, keeping his professional distance, he’d known deep down that he had feelings for her. Feelings that, if he were to give in to them, could be so much more.

  Only now, the timing was off. He needed to protect her, not romance her. And wasn’t that the real surprise?

  “I’m not lying to you, Troy. I’m not making this up.”

  Grateful for the distraction from his errant thoughts, Troy keyed back into Evangeline’s plea. “That’s why I said I believe you.”

  “But if I’m being fair, I can also understand why you think the way you do. I realize there isn’t any evidence. I know how outlandish it sounds to tell you things happened, when there’s no proof that they did. All I can tell you is that I know what I saw earlier in that alley. I know what I heard in my own home. I know for a fact that book on my dresser is not mine.”

  At her mention of the book, Troy stood. “I left the book where it was when I swept the house, but I’d like to look at it again. I’d like to understand what it was about this particular book that upset you.”

  As if pleased there was something to do, Evangeline stood, those dark eyes a little bit brighter. “It was the book itself, as well as where it was placed. Standing up, face out, so that I wouldn’t miss it.”

  She made a good point, especially the fact the book was standing. Even if the travel guide was her own, some forgotten impulse purchase, no one left books standing up face out.

  He followed her into the bedroom, the entire experience much more intimate than when he had done the sweep of her home earlier. This was where she slept. He felt surrounded by her scent in here, the light swirl of mint and jasmine a sensual feast.

  Determined to ignore that thought, and the hints of impropriety it smacked of, Troy followed her to the nightstand. “A travel guide to Michigan?”

  “Yes. I don’t have a book like this. Nor do I have any interest in owning a book like this, so it’s not like I forgot that I purchased it at some point.”

  “Is it possible anyone left it behind?”

  “I thought about that, earlier. Other than the woman who cleans my home, no one has been here. And she’s hardly diving into books about Michigan travel, either, or leaving them as a present for me to read.”

  He considered saving the book for prints, but knew it was a bit frivolous, based on CSI’s already overworked caseload. Still, it was worth keeping, especially with his suspicions about Davison.

  He snagged a tissue from the box on the corner of the nightstand, gingerly lifting the book but not putting his own fingerprints on it. With careful movements, he turned it over to read the back.

  Thoughts of Davison filled his mind once again. Was this some sort of clue? So far, they believed all of the man’s crimes had been concentrated in Michigan. Was this meant to be some sort of taunt? A sign that he would strike again? Or more, a sign that he could do his deeds anywhere across the state and not just in Grave Gulch County?

  “Have you prosecuted any cases that could be tied to this?”

  “Not that I can think of. Nothing I’ve done, or the crimes I’ve handled, have screamed ‘travelogue.’”

  Gingerly, Troy set the book back down, leaving the tissue lying on top of the cover. He would come back in with a plastic bag and take it in for evidence. CSI may not be able to prioritize the fingerprints, but at least they would have the book in evidence. They couldn’t afford to overlook any and all things that might relate to the Davison case.

  If there was something nefarious afoot, processing the book would need to be prioritized on CSI’s exhaustive caseload.

  Hadn’t this evening suggested as much? He was well aware he couldn’t divert his focus from the problems currently plaguing Grave Gulch. But as he stared down at that book, Troy knew he was in this now.

  Evangeline Whittaker needed help. And he’d be damned sure she was going to get whatever she
needed.

  “I’d like to stay here tonight. I’ll take the couch or your spare room, but I don’t want you here alone.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Especially because I’m starting to feel really silly sobbing into your ear over a travel book.”

  He saw the false bravado and couldn’t stop the impulse to reach out and brush a wayward lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek. Tucking it gently behind her ear, Troy insisted, “You weren’t silly and you need to stop saying that.”

  “It was silly.”

  “You were scared. And I’d like to take a look at that lock in the fresh light of morning anyway.”

  “It’s silly and—” She broke off on a deep exhale before turning to face him fully. “And I’d really appreciate having you here as backup.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Troy took another big sip of coffee and navigated his way through the seemingly ever-present protesters outside the police station. He respected and admired the right to peacefully assemble but it was getting increasingly difficult to hear the shouting reverberating throughout the precinct. He was as frustrated as the protesters with the current situation in Grave Gulch and their waving signs felt like a visual reminder of the GGPD’s failure to protect them.

  The added pressure of a sleepless night, his proximity to Evangeline more challenging than he would’ve anticipated, had him feeling like a tired grizzly bear this morning.

  And of course, he had Melissa’s staff meeting first thing.

  Heading into the precinct, he waved at the team on the front desk with the second cup of coffee he had in hand for Brett. “Is Detective Shea in yet?”

  The earnest young man riding the front desk nodded his head, Mary Suzuki’s Sunday shift earning her a day off. “Yes, sir. Detective Shea has been in for about an hour.”

  “Thank you.” Troy avoided the inwardly disparaging thoughts that threatened, well aware he was entitled to an evening off, even if Brett had stayed. And it was not like his time with Evangeline was a date. Her involvement in the Davison case meant her situation needed to be watched and monitored. Evaluated.

  Evaluation that includes kissing? his inner voice piped up.

  Ignoring the mental taunts, Troy headed straight for Brett’s office, not even stopping at his own to drop his workbag off.

  “You look like you had a night,” Brett greeted him with a hearty smile as he looked up from his desk.

  “Then I’m keeping the extra coffee I picked up for you all to myself.”

  “Gimme.” Brett held out a hand as Ember perked up from her large pillowed perch beside the desk.

  “I’m sorry, girl, I didn’t bring anything for you.” Troy said to the pretty, black Lab, who thumped her tail in response.

  “Don’t worry,” Brett said. “She’s got her after-practice bone coming her way in another hour or so.”

  “It’s a full-time job, isn’t it?”

  “Ember’s training?” Brett looked up from his coffee at the question. “It is, but it’s time we both enjoy.”

  “Is there any chance that training could’ve overlooked something in the alley last night?”

  As questions went it was certainly loaded, and more than a little fraught with hope. But he had to ask anyway.

  “I’d like to tell you no, but unfortunately I don’t think I can. And if it just rested on her training, I wouldn’t be so confident. But the CSI report was pretty clear.”

  “Damn it, I know. I read through it this morning before heading in.”

  He had done a quick scan first for the basics and then a second time through to get all the nuances. The report was clear and irrefutable. No sign of any violent activity or blood.

  “Look, you know you’ve got backup on this,” Brett said. “I saw that woman’s face last night when we arrived on scene, and I don’t think the sheer terror that paled her skin was made up.”

  “Thank you for that. I appreciate it. And the support.”

  “I only have one question for you in return.”

  “What’s that?” Troy replied.

  “Are you prepared if the answer doesn’t come back in her favor?”

  It was a fair question, and one that he’d asked himself more than once through the long hours in Evangeline’s spare bedroom until dawn. He believed her and thought that she was telling the truth as she knew it. Yet even with that confidence in her, he couldn’t deny that there were doubts. In the lack of CSI evidence as well as any trace a K-9 could pick up.

  Both sat at the top of his list.

  “I’ll do what needs to be done. You can count on that,” Troy assured his partner.

  “All I need to hear.”

  Brett stood at that, Ember coming to immediate attention at his side. “It’s time to head into the chief’s meeting.”

  When Troy and Brett walked into the main conference room, Melissa was already putting together her notes at the head of the table. She turned to look at both men as they entered. “Sounds like you two had quite an evening last night.”

  “One more frustrating dead end in a year that’s been full of them,” Troy said, hearing the ready annoyance in his own voice.

  “Is that all?”

  Troy loved his cousin Melissa and had absolute respect for her as their chief of police, but it was never very comfortable to be on the receiving end of her questions, especially the ones that ended in raised eyebrows. “I think so. The investigation is open and active, even if initial results are inconclusive.”

  “Can you have the full report to me by this afternoon?” she asked.

  “Yes, absolutely.” Troy would have it done by lunch, unwilling to let the situation with Evangeline rest. They had too much riding on this, both for Evangeline’s own safety as well as the potential connections to Len Davison and Randall Bowe. “I’m also happy to give an update during the meeting, as to what I know so far.”

  Melissa nodded. “See that you do.”

  Troy took a seat and settled in. He enjoyed their staff meetings. He’d come to look forward to the camaraderie and partnership he felt inside that conference room.

  While their collective sense of team spirit had never been higher, their work had become more challenging of late. Grave Gulch wasn’t small, per se, but its share of violent crime had always been at manageable levels. Unlike their counterparts in Grand Rapids or even larger metropolitan areas like Detroit, they’d always found overall crime here to be somewhat subdued.

  Until the start of this year.

  The things that had happened since January—his nephew’s kidnapping at Mary’s wedding almost a catalyst of sorts—had been on the extreme end of what law enforcement would experience in an average year.

  And nothing about this year had been average so far.

  It was like he’d said to Evangeline the night before. Things just felt off. And while that was hardly a term he’d use with his colleagues, it was one that fit.

  Within minutes, the rest of the squad had taken seats around the room and Melissa called the meeting to order. They would hit the high points of their ongoing investigations, but Melissa usually started by asking about any late-breaking or important details they needed to know.

  This morning was no different.

  “We have an update on Davison.” Melissa broke her typical pattern by launching into their most pressing case herself.

  Troy opened his mouth, before snapping it shut at the dark look from Melissa.

  “Saturday, Davison broke into the home of an elderly couple here in Grave Gulch. They are thankfully unharmed, but terribly scared. He tied them up while he went through their home, used their shower, stole their food and ultimately cleaned them out of all money and valuables inside the house.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Brett muttered under his breath.

  “That he is, Detective Shea.” Melis
sa eyed him from where she stood at the front of the room, her comment both the signal that she had heard him regardless of how quietly he spoke, and that she agreed with her newest detective wholeheartedly.

  “He is armed and dangerous, proof from the fact that he held that couple tied up and at gunpoint for almost thirty-six hours. And while we remain pleased that he didn’t take the situation any further, and both the husband and wife have been checked out and released at this point with a clean bill of health, Davison continues to prove himself a dangerous criminal.”

  Troy considered the timeline, as he listened to the rest of Melissa’s overview. Work had already begun to notify any pawnshops who might get some of the jewelry described by the couple, and additional K-9 resources were being brought in to comb the area around the couple’s home. “Detective Shea,” Melissa continued, “we need you and Ember over there with the rest of the team today.”

  “Of course.” Brett nodded, shooting the dog a quick glance over his shoulder where she rested behind his chair.

  “Melissa? When did Davison gain entry into the home?” Troy asked.

  “Sometime Saturday, best the couple can tell. They were out earlier in the day and he was there in the afternoon once they had come back in from running errands. He departed late last night. The couple finally worked themselves free from the ropes he’d used to tie them up around three this morning. They immediately called for help.”

  Troy backed his way through the timeline. Davison had been in Grave Gulch for at least thirty-six hours as he held the couple hostage. Possibly longer since there was no telling exactly how early he’d gotten into their home while they were out. But if the man had been in Grave Gulch throughout the weekend, it was very possible he could have also orchestrated the situation Evangeline saw the alley. Especially if he was on the run and fighting with some sort of female helper.

  It could fit.

  Yet even as he considered it, Troy knew the scenario rang false. The timing was a possible match but little else. Davison was a suspected lone wolf. From all they’d learned, the man continued to bear the grief of losing his wife to cancer after more than thirty years of marriage and it was that spark—the death of his wife—that pushed him into killing.