Page 8 of The Last Close Call

She stared at him, and the feeling of dread was back again.

“No lamp,” she said. “But there’s a T-shirt draped over the television.”

A chill settled over him as her words sank in.

He had put that detail out there like bait, mainly to make sure she didn’t blow off his call later. He hadn’t really considered how he’d feel if he found out his hunch was right. He hadn’t counted on the sharp jab of frustration from knowing that the predator who had eluded him for years was back at work again, and that he’d escalated.

Jack clenched his teeth and looked at the crime scene behind her swarming with cops and CSIs.

Heidi’s phone chimed. She pulled it from her pocket and muttered a curse.

“I’ll let you get back.”

She glanced up. “The thing with the T-shirt. How did you know that?”

“It was a guess.”

Her look turned skeptical as her phone chimed again. “I have to go, but call me tomorrow and we’ll talk.”

“Count on it.”

THREE

The police station was buzzing with activity, which Rowan figured was typical for the downtown headquarters. Uniformed officers streamed back and forth through the lobby, mixing with plainclothes detectives and civilians who looked lost. A middle-aged man in a tracksuit approached the reception desk, where a frizzy-haired woman sat at a computer. She made a phone call and then directed him to a bank of chairs near a fake-looking ficus tree before returning her attention to her screen.

Rowan took a deep breath and made her approach.

“Good afternoon,” she said with a smile. “I’m here to see Detective Bruner.”

The woman didn’t look up. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Detective Bruner isn’t in right now.”

Rowan rested her elbow on the counter. Still no eye contact. So, was he really not here, or was she getting the brush-off? Rowan knew she should have called ahead, but this stop had been impulsive. One minute she’d been eating a sandwich on a bench in front of the vital records office, and the next minute she was in her car rushing to police headquarters. Until five seconds ago, she hadn’t even been sure Jack Bruner worked here and not at some substation. But she’d figured he did because he was in violent crimes.

Rowan put another smile on her face, even though the receptionist wasn’t looking. “So... do you know if he’ll be back later today or—”

“I don’t.” She glanced up, clearly annoyed. “I only know that he’s out. You’re free to wait.” She nodded toward the chairs.

“Could I leave him a message?”

“Rowan?”

She turned around. Relief flooded her as Jack approached from the glass double doors. No rain-dampened leather jacket this time. He wore a blue dress shirt and a tie, and with his badge and gun on prominent display, he looked like a real detective now.

He stopped in front of her, his gaze intent, and she felt her leverage slipping as he obviously knew why she was here.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Do you have a minute to talk? I’ve got a question for you.”

“Sure.” He glanced at the receptionist, who was watching with interest now that it was clear she and Jack were on a first-name basis. “Is Bryan back yet?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

Jack looked at Rowan, his gaze a mixture of interest and skepticism. “Come on back.”

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