Page 34 of The Last Close Call

“This you?” Jack said, stepping off the sidewalk. She was parked on the opposite side of the lot from him, but he walked her to her car anyway, and she felt a flutter of nerves again.

A giant pickup had wedged itself into the space beside hers. She stopped at her bumper and turned to him.

“Thank you for dinner.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Why? You didn’t let me pay.”

“Well, thanks for the invitation.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I like this place.”

She looked up at him in the glow of the security light two rows over. His eyes looked black and serious. She needed to go, but her feet wouldn’t move as he stared down at her, and the moment stretched out.

She wanted to kiss him. The urge came out of nowhere. He might reject her, but still she felt the impulse to try.

His phone dinged again, and he pulled it from his pocket.

“You’d better get that.” She slid into the narrow space between her car and the truck. “Good night, Jack.”

***

Jack watched her pull out of the parking lot. Then looked down and read the text from Bryan.

Did you talk to Heidi?

Jack reread the text Heidi had sent a moment ago telling him to contact her ASAP. Jack called her.

“What happened?” he asked when she picked up.

“Jack, we got it.”

His pulse jumped. “Got what?”

“A profile.”

“You’re talking about Amber Novak?”

“Yeah, they lifted something off her clothing. A tiny drop of blood. I figured it was hers but—”

“You knew?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Jack, it’s a match. The profile matches your UNSUB.”

EIGHT

Bryan hardly recognized Evelyn Wood when she opened her front door. She wore paint-spattered overalls and had her hair pulled back in a red bandanna.

“Morning, ma’am. I’m Detective Bryan Hunt, with Austin PD.” He flashed his badge and handed her a business card. “We met back in November?”

“I remember you.” She held the card in her paint-speckled hand and frowned down at it. “Liz isn’t coming?”

“Detective Lasco had a callout, so she asked if I could swing by.” He paused. “Assuming that’s all right with you.”

“No, that’s fine.” She looked past him at the unmarked police unit parked by the curb. “Come on in. Please.”

The smell of paint fumes hit him as he stepped into a living room that looked nothing like the last time he’d seen it. Cardboard boxes filled the center of the space, and a stack of framed pictures was propped against the wall.

“ ’Scuse the mess,” she said, stepping over a rolled-up rug.

“No problem. Doing some painting?”

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