Page 28 of Flynn

“No need.” A flush of embarrassment crept up Flynn’s neck. “I, uh, we need to get back to work.”

“And that means reviewing mug shots.” Once this nightmare was over, she never wanted to see another mug shot ever again.

“Yes.” He finally looked at her, his eyes intense. “Finding this guy has to be our top priority.”

His dedication was admirable, even if she secretly wished for something more. Something personal. “Okay. I understand.”

Flynn looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t. Pushing away from the kitchen counter he crossed to the table and set up the computers. The table was small, and he placed the laptops back-to-back so they were facing each other.

After he’d finished logging into the police database, she sank into the chair and went back to work. She was up to the last names that started withRand found there were many. Once she reached the last six letters of the alphabet, she was sure the process would go by much quicker.

Yet even as she clicked through one photograph after another, she harbored doubts about her ability to find this guy in the system. Either her memory would fail her or he didn’t have a criminal record.

Likely both.

Between pictures, she’d look at Flynn working across from her. His red hair was mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it. His square jaw was unshaven, and while he wouldn’t be considered handsome in a classical sense, she found him very attractive.

Too attractive.

With a sigh, she tore her gaze away. Flynn couldn’t have made it any clearer that he wasn’t interested. She needed to accept that they were nothing more than friends while figuring out a way to ignore the awareness between them.

She went through the next photo too fast and had to back up to look at it more closely. The nose on this man’s face was large, but after staring at it for a long moment, she decided it didn’t match that of the shooter. With a sigh, she kept going.

“Taylor?” She glanced up when Flynn said her name. “Will you take a look at these pictures?”

Curious, she rose and went around the table so she could see his computer screen. She was surprised to find he was logged into social media and had located her cousin Jacob Paulson’s page.

“That’s Jake, and that’s Lyle.” She indicated the two men on the screen. The picture was from a few years ago, taken in the summertime where the clear blue water of a lake could be seen behind them. “Where are they?”

“I was hoping you’d recognize it.” Flynn waved a hand at the window. “I don’t know Peabody Lake well enough to know if this was taken here.”

She frowned, trying to recall if anyone in her family had a lake house. “They could be with a friend. Jake and Lyle are only a year apart and could have had similar friends. Roman was two years older than Jake.”

“The area doesn’t look familiar?” Flynn asked.

“No, but I’m not as familiar with this lake either.” She frowned, trying to imagine where the picture may have been taken. “Maybe we should drive around Peabody Lake to see if it was taken here. We might be able to track down that home behind them, on the other side of the lake.” The house in question was opulent in appearance, as if it belonged to someone rich or famous.

Like maybe a ball player? Were they wrong about Steve Miller’s role of CEO of Brookland Bank being the reason he was murdered? Maybe Robin Miller had stumbled across something while working on her interior design of the Buck’s player’s house.

“Maybe later,” Flynn said.

“Flynn, there are a lot of expensive homes on this lake, on other lakes in the area too,” she admitted. “I’ve heard that some of these homes were purchased by baseball and basketball players. That house behind Jake and Lyle is a multimillion-dollar home. It could be the type of place Robin Miller was hired to redecorate.”

Admiration flashed in Flynn’s gaze. “Smart thinking. Maybe we should drive around the lake, see if we can find this house.”

Even if they did find the home, she wasn’t sure what that meant. Her cousins weren’t related to any famous athletes that she was aware of. Friends? Maybe, but the date on the picture of her cousins was four years old.

Her initial rush of excitement faded. They could be grasping at straws. Trying to make something out of nothing.

“I should finish going through the mug shots before we do anything else,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t want to take us off on some sort of wild goose chase, especially if the gunman happens to be in the system. Finding him is the goal, right? We don’t know that Roman’s brothers are involved in this.”

“Right.” His expression turned grim. “Better to keep working through the list. In the meantime, I’ll keep this photo for future reference.”

With a nod, she returned to her chair. Again, she had to force herself to concentrate on the photographs on the screen because her mind wandered back to her cousins. And the conversation she’d had with Robin just days before the brutal murder.

She hated to admit that Flynn may have been right about the need to break off their embrace. She was having enough trouble concentrating on her role in this investigation, and that was without the added emotional baggage that accompanied a relationship.

The next hour passed in silence. As she predicted, there were less names per letter near the end of the alphabet. Then a picture bloomed on the screen that caused her heart to lodge in her throat.

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