Page 104 of Walking the Edge

“But we’re close teammates.”

“Skin-to-skin close.” She held up first and second fingers pressed together.

The hand holding his coffee stopped midway to his lips, and his jaw hardened.

“Don’t worry. I’m all out of speeches.” I’m still going into this with both eyes open.

She pulled on her underwear. “That was Rhonda, the waitress you met in my patio. The owner is repairing my place.”

Mitch drained his cup. “You’re not thinking of moving back there.”

“I don’t know. But definitely not until the police find my intruder.”

“Remember, you never reported that.” Mitch shook out a plastic garbage bag and dropped the trash inside. “You were scared I’d get you in trouble.”

“You can be pretty intimidating.” She braced against the cold, stiff denim and pulled her jeans up her legs. “You still owe me a ride to my office. Even if Les hasn’t called, he could have left a letter or note.”

“No one writes letters these days. Especially not a college kid who grew up with digital everything.”

“Les might. When he was little, our rural delivery fascinated him. He would write letters to me and my mom and stepdad and ride his bike to the highway to stick them in the mailbox. He knows where my office is. Heck, it’s on my website. I absolutely have to check there.” Before I give up.

“We can go when we get back to town.”

No arguments, huh?

She rubbed the groove between her brows, still not understanding why Paul had gone by her place. He’d never liked her neighborhood. Paul had a black belt in playing his cards close to his chest and was all about image. He even wiped his shoes when coming in from a rain. She unlaced her tennis shoes and stared at the insole. Wait a minute… Paul… Someone tapped her shoulder.

She jumped. Mitch squatted in front of her. “You scared me.”

“Didn’t mean to.” His dark brows knitted. He extended the sweatshirt she’d seen on the sawhorses. “It’s supposed to be cold today. You can wear this under your coat for extra warmth.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “How soon are we heading back?”

“As soon as we can.” Mitch pulled on his boots. “We need to get to your office as early as possible.”

“I want to go see Detective LeNoux first.”

* * *

Mitch pulled his gaze from the road to adjust the stream of heat from the vents. Cath had yet to tell him the reason she wanted to see the police detective ASAP, but he had time to play this her way. They wouldn’t get to town for another half hour.

“Why are we going so slow?” She squinted across the seat at him.

“Massaging the upholstery isn’t going to get us there faster.” She stopped kneading the seat to clutch her hands together in her lap. Her impatience still warped the air in the truck cab. He rubbed his palm over the top of the steering wheel. “Did I make your coffee too strong?”

“It was fine. Perfect.” She leaned over. “How fast are you going?”

“Faster than I really want on this old highway that, you will notice, has water along both sides.”

“You’ll go faster when we catch the interstate?”

“You can see in a few minutes. That’s it up there.” The white strip of the elevated highway rose from the brown marshes like something from a futuristic world. “When did Detective LeNoux get to be one of your favorite people?”

“I don’t know.” A heavy sigh issued from her side of the cab.

“What don’t you know?”

“Maybe going to see him isn’t a good idea. I don’t want to get the wrong person in trouble.”

---