Page 47 of The Last Close Call

His partner’s gaze remained glued to his screen.

“Bryan, we’re late.”

Bryan turned and checked the clock on the wall. Then he stood and snagged his jacket off the back of the chair.

“We need to stop at the corner,” Bryan said.

“No time.”

“I need food, man. I skipped breakfast.”

Jack crossed the bullpen, trying to ignore the grumbling in his own stomach. His breakfast had consisted of stale coffee from a hospital cafeteria after he’d been up all night canvassing a neighborhood and then waiting for a gunshot victim to wake up from surgery. And even after the victim woke up, he’d claimed to remember nothing about his assailant—not even the car the man had been in when he rolled up and shot him.

Not yet one day in, and Jack could tell it was going to be one of those cases where everyone lied and no one knew anything, even when they did.

They crossed the lobby and pushed through the double doors. Jack stopped and zipped his jacket.

“Seriously, I’m on empty,” Bryan said, casting a longing look at the food truck on the corner.

“Five minutes.” Jack checked his watch. “We’re already going to hit traffic.”

“You want anything?”

“No.”

Bryan rushed off, jogging right past Rowan.

Jack’s heart gave a kick as he watched her stride up the sidewalk. She made a beeline for the door, not noticing him at all.

“Rowan.”

She whirled around. “Oh. Hey.” She smiled, and Jack’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in hours.

She walked over and stopped in front of him. Today she wore a puffy blue coat with jeans, and her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold.

“Hi,” she said, looking at the keys in his hand. “Heading out somewhere?”

“I’ve got an interview.”

Her eyebrows arched.

“Different case.”

The hope in her eyes dimmed, and he felt a pang of guilt. The same guilt he’d been feeling for seven long years, every time someone brought up his cold case.

Not that it was his only cold case, but it was the one that hounded him every damn day.

“What’s up?” he asked.

She bit her lip, looking uncertain now that she’d bumped into him unexpectedly on the street. Maybe she was thinking about that kiss last night. He’d been thinking about it for hours. It had kept him awake and alert during the endless stretch in that hospital waiting room.

She stepped closer and looked up at him. Yep, he was right—she was thinking about it.

“I stopped by hoping to catch you,” she said.

“I’m glad you did.”

“Do you want me to walk with you to your car or—”

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