Page 557 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Okay, good idea. For the record, I like the preparedness, but I promise I’m not here to attack you, rob you, or in any way cause trouble.” His mouth cranked up one side.

She glanced at the gun, then set the weapon on a table by the door. “It’s late. So?—”

“Like I said, good choice. Keep that instinct. But…I need your help, Eve.” He stuck his hands into his pockets and then gave her such a sheepish, almost boyish look she didn’t know what else to do.

“Come in.”

He stepped over the threshold. “Nice place. Smells like you’ve been working on it.”

“Yeah. My brother just finished the kitchen, but I’m about done with remodeling. I just need to paint the dining room and add a deck.” She walked past him and turned on a family room lamp. Light washed over her leather sofa, across to her fireplace. “I’ll be happy if I never remodel again.”

A low chuckle rumbled through him. “I’ll remember that.”

The way he said it made it sound like they were already friends, and would be for a long time. She turned, her gaze quick over him. He stood in her entry way, watching her, and his shoulders lifted and fell, his expression suddenly awkward, as if realizing he had bridged the line between work and her personal life.

In fact, wait— “How did you know where I live?”

He lifted one side of his mouth. “Eve. I’m a detective.”

Oh. Right.

Something she couldn’t identify slipped into his gaze and she was suddenly, keenly aware of the fact that indeed, he’d stepped over that line,right into her living room.

Oh boy. “How did it go with Ramses?”

“He’s out of pocket. Burke is staked out at his house, but…I gotta get into that data base of distributors of Good Earth coffee in our area.”

“Tonight?”She didn’t mean it quite how it sounded, but?—

“I know it sounds crazy, Eve, but I just…” The look in his eyes turned solemn, even a little fierce. “I just know that there will be another bombing in the morning, and we have to figure outwhere.”

It was how he said it, so much conviction, so muchoomphin his voice, she felt it to her bones, adopted it and made it her own. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He blinked at her.

“How can I help?”

He drew in a breath, as if surprised, but he had called herbrilliant.

And sure, Rembrandt might be a little impulsive, maybe even had a dark side, but no one could accuse him of giving up. Or not caring about the people who had lost their lives—whocouldlose their lives—if the bomber wasn’t found.

No wonder he never had any cold cases.

“I was thinking your brother?—”

“Asher?”

“Can he really hack into websites?”

“I think so. But?—”

“Is he still living with your parents?”

Now this was weird, because?—

“You mentioned that he was younger than you, so I just assumed.”

Oh. But he swallowed, rather oddly.

---