Page 69 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Remember that blood sample we got from the dumpster behind the hotel? I put a rush on it.”

Anticipation swells inside my chest. Is this the moment the entire case breaks open? “You got an ID?”

“Negative.”

Before I can voice my annoyance for calling me with a dead end, he adds, “The lab detected a chemical with the blood.”

“Like our perp was high?” I sigh in frustration.

“Negative. Special Agent Snow says it’s a residue from his skin, like it’s something he touched, or handled.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Okay.”

“It’s some kind of lubricant. Mechanical.”

“Grease?”

“Yep. Used in the axlebox bearings on locomotives.”

“Huh.” It’s no secret that Brian knows more about trains than any of us due to his commitment to solving the Soren Lake scenic train derailment and fire that killed Hunter’s younger brother Reid and nearly killed Cooper.

“I don’t remember anything about this in Vander’s autopsy report.”

“Right. So whoever was in that motel room with him had recently been in contact with this lubricant.”

“Like maybe he works on trains?”

“It’s also highly flammable.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “Does it match the chemicals found at either of our arson sites?”

“Don’t know yet,” he says, “I’ll keep you updated.”

We end the call just as I pull into my garage. My truck isn’t here, which means Cora isn’t either. I groan.

During my walk to the house, I set aside what I learned from Brian and Agent Snow. Right now, there’s nothing I can do to speed up their work, and I have no control over the results. The information will either help us move the case forward or not.

Inside the house, Rosie greets me with her welcome dance. After she’s calm, I pad to my room. Laid out on my bed is my suit, with a note:

You’re gonna knock his socks off!

Cora

I want to crumple the note in my fist. Where the hell is she, anyways? Yes, she’s busy campaigning, but I miss her. I miss seeing her in the morning in her pink pajamas and fuzzy slippers with her hair piled on top of her head. I miss going for runs together, and that little competitive gleam in her eye when I push the pace. And I miss coming home to find her curled up on the couch with a fire crackling and the house smelling good. And I miss kissing her, and the feel of her body against mine.

I’m just sliding on my pants when I catch movement from my peripheral vision. Instincts hard wired from a lifetime of vigilance fire and I lunge for the gun in my bedside drawer.

“Good, I caught you,” Cora says, oblivious that she was moments away from being forced to the floor at gunpoint.

“Not a good idea to sneak up on a cop,” I say as she continues into the room. She’s wearing a denim shirt dress and charcoal-colored stockings today and must have left her shoes by the door. That Rosie didn’t alert me to her presence is another example of how deeply she’s infiltrated my life. I just don’t know what to do about it.

“That’s why I texted you two minutes ago.” She smiles, which wipes away the last of my adrenaline. “You look nice. Are you nervous?”

That I’m dressing in front of her seems not to phase her one bit, while my fingers are shaking as I tuck in my shirt tails. “Nervous, no. Wary, maybe. I’m not very good at ass-kissing.”

Cora reaches up to adjust my collar. “I doubt it will come to that. Just listening to him will make a good impression.”

Having her this close, with her warmth and fresh scent assaulting my senses, is too much, and the quiet turns awkward.

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