Page 514 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

I don’t catch it all, but one code sears into my brain.

10-80.

Explosion.

Just off Franklin.

It’s only when Burke grabs my jacket—I’m wearing a freakin’suit—and pulls me toward the door that the recognition locks in.

I’m in 1997, and somehow my nightmares have found me.

CHAPTER FIVE

Eve Mulligan did not want to live in a war zone one more minute. The chaos of remodeling—the current casualty being the plumbing—just might drive her to murder.

Or at least bodily harm, directed at her younger brother.

“Sams! Turn the flippin’ water back on!”

Eve fumbled for the towel, her hand snaking outside the flimsy curtain of her claw-foot tub, suds running into her eyes. She found the towel, grabbed it and shoved it into her face, cleaning out the soap, then turned to fiddle with the faucets. Yes, full on, but not a drip of water from the overhead spigot. “Samson Mulligan,turn on my water!”

She nearly fell out of the tub, grabbed her robe and tied her hair up before flinging the door open. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass transom, casting light down into the upstairs bedroom of her story-and-a-half bungalow. The sound of a saw rumbled up from the kitchen. The dust and the odor of plumber’s glue, not to mention freshly stained wood, could turn her woozy.

Her feet ground into the sawdust despite her recent sweep of the stairs, and she barreled down, one hand holding her towel and barged into the kitchen to find—oh no.Nother brotherSamson bent over his workbench but an unknown plumber, crack and all, leaning over a piece of plastic piping.

A stranger.

In her house.

At 6-freaking-o’clock in the morning.

Her father would have a coronary. And right about now, he might agree with her decision to get a conceal and carry. After all, just because she worked CSI didn’t mean she wasn’t acop.

The plumber stood up, eyes wide as he took her in—fluffy bathrobe, her hair dripping water down her neck. And not a hot plumber, either, although that might not have changed her indignation. This guy looked about fifty and nursed a beer paunch.

“What are you doing here?”

“Your brother sent me. Told me to get working on your kitchen plumbing…”

Nice. Now shewouldhave to murder her brother. And she wouldn’t escape because they’d easily pin motive on her.

She turned, ignored the debris of her unfinished living room, and took the stairs two at a time. Twenty minutes later, she pulled into her parents’ driveway. Samson’s construction truck took up most of the space.

She took a breath. Tried to remember he was helping. Giving her a cut rate.

And inviting strange men into her home at ungodly hours.

Eve got out and headed toward the door, glancing at her watch. Not late yet, but she was cutting it close for her first day on the job in her new precinct. But a girl couldn’t let life bully her—especially if it came in the form of her kid brother-slash-kitchen remodeler.

However, one step inside would rope her into breakfast, including a bright-lights-third degree interrogation about thenew job. And promises to attend the annual Fourth of July barbecue.

Maybe she didn’t—aw, she also had the tile issue…

The crunch of tires in the drive told her she’d hesitated too long for escape.

She turned and lifted her hand to her father, just climbing out of his truck. At least he hadn’t driven the cruiser home—not anymore. The fact that he’d parked his patrol car in their suburban driveway her entire high school career had pretty much terrified and run-off every male who’d shown even the slightest interest in her. Even now, she might have to move across the country to get a date without her father doing a background check.

Frankly, even across the country, her father knew the right strings to pull. Deputy Police Inspector Danny Mulligan, twenty plus years on the job, head of the department of Violent Crimes Investigation for the city of Minneapolis kneweverybody. Decorated, accommodated—he’d even made the papers more than a few times.

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