Which didn’t bode well for her and Chad or their future together, despite her reassurance moments ago.
Eleven
“THANKS FOR THE UPDATE, SARGE.”
Pressing the end button on his cell, Jack crossed to the kitchen cabinet beside his sink.
Now that his boss had confirmed what he’d expected to hear—that the lake reconnaissance had produced nothing—there was no reason to report back to Lindsey in person. A phone call would suffice. Their conversation from this morning gave him all the material he needed for his report.
He withdrew a glass, filled it with OJ, and surveyed the shelves in his fridge. All the ingredients were on hand for the chicken cordon bleu and chocolate mint squares he’d promised to make for the sibling gathering he was hosting today. If he started to work on the meal now, it would be ready to serve by one o’clock, as promised.
But if he squeezed in a church service and paid Lindsey a visit instead, Bri and Cara would have to make do with far less ambitious fare.
He swigged his juice.
Church and family always came first—unless work intruded. Thankfully, his sisters understood the demands of a job that didn’t have regular hours and often disrupted plans.
That wasn’t the case today, though. He didn’t have to give Lindsey priority this morning.
Yet considering how upset she’d been earlier, and taking into account all she’d been through over the past nine days, passing on the results of the lake reconnaissance face-to-face would be a thoughtful gesture.
Give it a break, Tucker. You just want another chance totry and figure out why she took such an instant dislike to you.
Scowling, Jack gulped down the remainder of the juice and set the empty glass on the counter with more force than necessary.
Okay, fine. There would also be a personal motive for his visit. Her puzzling antipathy bugged him, and the detective in him hated unsolved mysteries. There had to be an explanation for her attitude, and it wasn’t a crime to want to ferret it out. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to try and get a few more insights into the South Carolina incident she’d referenced.
Decision made.
He’d forgo cooking, squeeze in church, and pay her a visit. The pan of lasagna in his freezer that he always kept on hand for emergencies would have to suffice. Cara and Bri would forgive him for the change in menu if he explained that duty had called.
He didn’t have to tell them Lindsey’s enmity was also eating at him.
An hour later, after putting the lasagna in the oven on low heat, dashing to the midmorning church service, and alerting his star witness in the Robertson case that he’d like to drop by, he pulled up in front of her condo and checked his watch.
In one hour, he had to be back at his house to welcome his sisters. Shouldn’t be a problem. What he had to say to Lindsey wouldn’t take long.
But hopefully long enough for him to do a little probingand identify the burr under her saddle about a certain police detective.
As he circled his car and strode up the walk to her unit, Lindsey pulled open the front door, brow knitted, her baggy sweatpants and oversized fleece sweatshirt screaming comfort clothes.
Once he got close, she cut to the chase. “Did the officers find anything?”
He ascended the two steps to her porch, pausing at the top to give her a quick once-over.
Near as he could tell, she wore no makeup. Her hair was combed straight and tucked behind her ears, the slight frizz suggesting a recent shower. The shapeless wardrobe gave no hint of any curves underneath.
How could a woman who’d done zilch to enhance her appearance for his visit, who’d given him the cold shoulder during each of their encounters, have the power to make his fingers tingle and his pulse pick up?
Go figure.
“Well?”
Whoops.
Her annoyed prompt must mean his attempt at a subtle perusal had been less than discreet.
He refocused on the professional purpose of his visit. “No. They didn’t find anything.”