Page 42 of Mile High Mystery

“Do you have a woman named Janie registered here?” she asked.

“Do you have a last name?” the clerk, a middle-aged woman with short, tightly curled hair, looked suspicious of this snooping.

“I don’t.” Shelby pulled out her credentials and watched the woman’s eyes widen as she took in the official Federal Bureau of Investigation logo. “But I’d like to speak to her if she’s here.”

The woman shook her head. “We don’t have anyone named Janie here.”

“She’s in her late twenties to early thirties, blond hair and very tall—almost six feet.”

“She sounds like a model,” the clerk said.

She had looked like one, too. “Do you have anyone who fits that description staying here?” Shelby asked.

“No. I’m sure I’d remember someone like that.”

“Are there any other motels or hotels in town? Other than this one and the Ranch Motel?”

“There’s the Alpiner—that’s a bed-and-breakfast inn. And there are a lot of private rentals.”

A pleasant older woman at the Alpiner confirmed that neither Janie nor Todd was staying with them. Shelby left the inn and sat in her car, trying to decide what to do next. She phoned Zach. He answered on the fourth ring, the sound of heavy equipment in the background. “Hello?”

“It’s me, Shelby,” she said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m at work. And I’m kind of busy.”

He sounded annoyed. He was probably still upset with her. Because she was being overprotective? Or because she distracted him? She had wanted him to explain exactly how she distracted him, but was a little afraid of the answer. Maybe she had only imagined that he had wanted to kiss her that night in her motel room. And maybe she was the only one who tossed and turned later that same night at his townhouse, aware of him occupying the bed in the next room. He was a good-looking man, and through his sister she had come to know him better and care about him. Her attraction to him was natural, not unprofessional. But acting on it would be, and it would be downright embarrassing if she had misjudged his feelings. Maybe she distracted him because she reminded him of what had happened to his sister, or the way that the FBI and Witness Security had inadvertently ruined his family’s lives.

Too bad. She was going to look out for him whether he thought he needed her or not. For one thing, if Camille’s killer was hanging around intending to take out Zach, Shelby’s best chance of catching the murderer might be to intercept him on the way to Zach. Two, she owed it to Camille to protect what was left of her family. There were other agents watching Zach’s parents, but she was all he had. “What are you doing after work?” she asked.

“Going back to my place.”

“I’ll come over.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to stay, but I want to talk to you.”

She wasn’t sure if the silence that followed was because he was debating the question or due to an interruption. “I’ll bring pizza,” she added.

“All right,” he said. “You can come over around six. And I like pepperoni and sausage. No mushrooms.”

He ended the call before she could say anything else. She smiled. Zach might be put out with her, but he wasn’t shutting her out altogether. She counted that a small victory, at least.

ZACHREMINDEDHIMSELFagain that inviting Shelby over was probably a bad idea, but he hadn’t been able to say no. Around her, he didn’t have to pretend nothing was wrong. No one at work or among his friends knew about his stolen house key and the sinister stuffed bear. And unlike the FBI agents he had dealt with before and after the Chalk brothers trial, he thought Shelby would tell him if she learned anything about Camille’s murderer or whoever had threatened him.

But when he opened his door and found her standing there in cropped jeans and a sleeveless black top that showed off toned arms, her hair loose about her shoulders, he questioned the wisdom of letting her inside. She didn’t look like an FBI agent right now. She looked like a woman he wanted to date.

“Let me in before this pizza gets cold,” she said, hefting the large pizza box she carried in both hands.

“Sure.” He looked away as she brushed past him, but her floral perfume teased him over the scent of pepperoni.

He moved past her. “Come on into the kitchen.”

She followed him, and he took plates and glasses from the cabinet. He didn’t ask what she was doing here. “What would you like to drink?” he asked. “I’ve got beer and water.”

“Water is fine.”

“Are you saying that because you’re on duty?”

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