Page 529 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

He wore a smile again, something warm and sweet, as if she’d said something clever.

“What?”

“You need to eat. Your stomach is growling.”

Oh. It had, but— “I’m fine.”

“You’re going to get all grouchy and frustrated. Listen, we’re not far from the Towne Hall Brewery. You love—I mean, you’re going to love the pretzels there. Beer cheese queso.”

“Maybe I’ll just have a salad.”

“We’ll see.” He was wearing the smirk again.

She considered him, feeling a weird tug to say yes. As if it was already a foregone conclusion that she’d not only have dinner with this man, but like he said, they’d become friends.

Still, they had a job to do. “We have about an hour before this is ready to run through the scanning mask…”

“Trust me, we’re coming back, Eve. He’s not getting away with this…not on my watch.”

A sudden darkness shifted into his eyes, almost a controlled rage and it spiraled down inside her, took hold.

She couldn’t shake the bone deep idea that Rembrandt Stone was oh, so much more than the cover of his book, that he meant his words, kept promises, and would track down the perpetrator of this terrible act.

“Okay, Inspector,” she said. And as they left, as they found Burke, waiting for them in the lobby, she made one promise to herself.

She would not let herself fall for Rembrandt Stone.

CHAPTER NINE

Iam cheating.

And I don’t care.

I’m sitting in the original, not-overhauled location of one of our—Eve and my—favorite haunts. We only found the pub a few years ago, after the remodel, so seeing the vintage brick walls, the arches behind the mirrored bar, the scuffed wooden floors, and the hanging lantern lights has me in a nostalgic mood.

Zepplin plays through the 90s-sized speakers in the four corners of the pub and I tap my fingers on the wooden table watching Eve as she tears apart her pretzel, one bite at a time, eying me with a smile.

I grin. “I know, right?”

I order a lager—an early version of what will later be award-winning, but is still today, monumental. I probably shouldn’t be drinking on the job, but this is a dream, right?

Besides, Burke has always been the stickler, and nurses a Diet Coke to go with his bratwurst—my suggestion by the way because I know how he’s going to become an addict.

Eve picks up a napkin, wipes her mouth. “Okay, true confession. I read your book.”

I don’t know why this old information warms me to my core, but something about her admission makes me want to be the guy she will someday believe in.

“And?”

“My dad hated it, although I don’t think he even read it. I’ve never seen a copy at the house.”

I’m not surprised by this, but this is fresh news, actually. Remember, I never got to know Danny Mulligan, but I would have liked to. He had a reputation as a good cop, the kind of guy you wanted backing you up. I would’ve liked him to like the book. And, me. “Why does he hate it?”

“He says you gave away secrets, the kind of things only cops know. That you can’t be trusted.” She’s sizing me up, testing me.

I’ve always liked that about Eve—she’s a straight shooter, doesn’t mince words. It’s also the reason why I never let her do the talking when we happened to question witnesses together. It’s good to play a few games, and she hates them.

I frown at her words. “Your dad is wrong. If he’d read my book, he’d know I didn’t betray anybody. It was my story to tell. And I was careful. I didn’t give away any secrets. You can trust me, Eve.” I meet her eyes now, because I really need her to believe this.

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