Page 6 of I'm Watching You

The young cop started to answer, then caught himself. He puffed out his chest. ‘Ma’am, this is a police crime scene. You are not supposed to be here.’

His attempt to intimidate her barely registered on her radar. She’d stared down far scarier people than this kid. ‘Look, Officer …’ She glanced down at the bronze name badge on his chest. ‘Bennett. That house is Sanctuary Women’s Shelter and I’m the director.’

‘I don’t care who you are. You can’t be here.’

Her tone had sounded brittle and she was reminded of Ruby’s frequent advice to soften her delivery. Sheremembered something about catching more flies with honey than vinegar.

With a conscious effort, she smiled and relaxed her stance. ‘I really need to know who was killed in case it involves one of the women staying here. It’s my job to keep them safe.’

The cop’s frown deepened. ‘Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you.’

His attitude annoyed but didn’t deter her. ‘How’d the guy die?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘Do you know the time of death?’ She edged around the cop. If she got a little closer she might find out more about the victim.

He shifted and blocked her path. ‘No one gets in that crime scene.’

She leaned around him. Even from this angle, most of the crime scene remained blocked by the broad shoulders of the detective, who had now removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and donned rubber gloves and booties. She couldn’t see his face but noted his military short black hair and crisp white shirt. His hands rested on his narrow hips.

He must be the bossy detective Ruby had mentioned. Lindsay summed him up in a nanosecond: an alpha male, a by-the-book tight-ass, and a bully.

She suddenly felt very weary. She’d been dealing with bullies far too long. But if he was the one she needed to talk to, then so be it.

Reading her thoughts, the officer said, ‘The detective in charge is going to talk to you when he’s ready.’

She pushed her hand through her hair. ‘This detective got a name?’

‘Detective Kier.’

She swallowed. ‘Zack Kier?’

A smug smile lifted the edge of the officer’s lip. ‘That’s right.’

Zack Kier was her estranged husband. They’d not spoken in almost a year.

She glanced toward the plainclothes detective again. Since when had Zack moved from undercover narcotics to homicide? When had he cut his hair, shaved the beard, and taken to wearing suits? Her Zack had worn his thick, long hair tied at the nape of his neck. He had preferred faded jeans, T-shirts, worn boots and a well-worn black leather jacket.

Everything about him had changed in the last year. And nothing had changed.

She should have recognized the rigid, controlled stance, which had always announced his unwavering commitment to police work. He also still tapped his index finger against his belt buckle when his hands rested on his hips.

Raw emotions she’d struggled to bury this last year enveloped her in a rush. Love. Hate. Fear. Betrayal. All ripped through her and for a moment left her speechless.

Lindsay’s knee-jerk reaction was to retreat. She’d have preferred avoiding this meeting with Zack and sidestep the messy tangle of emotions that were sure to follow.

Then she caught herself. Her therapist had pointed out that she had a habit of running from emotions that were personally painful. He had told her she had to learn to faceher feelings for Zack. When she’d expressed her doubts, he’d reminded her that she’d risen above her father’s brutality and her mother’s death. Zack and their marriage should be no exception.

Still, Lindsay had to swallow before she could shout, ‘Zack!’

All the other cops turned first and stared at her while Zack’s body stiffened. For a moment he seemed frozen, but then he turned slowly and stared at her from behind aviator sunglasses.

Instinct screamedrun. She stood her ground.

The sunglasses hid Zack’s sharp blue eyes, but she knew even without the shades his expression would have been unreadable. He’d always been so good at hiding his emotions. It’s why he’d made a great undercover cop and a lousy husband.

‘Zack, can you tell me who the body is?’ Her voice sounded surprisingly controlled – a minor, but appreciated miracle.

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