Page 20 of Before You Go

“And they know about the DNA?”

“They do, but the detectives who had taken on this case were adamant that Charles was not the one who committed the murder, so they are having a difficult time believing that he did it now.”

“Got it,” I mutter, and she nods, pushing up to stand.

“Just so you know, I spoke with Billy about Jamie.”

Shit.

“All right.” I lean back in my chair to wait and see where she’s going with this.

“He might think he’s good at hiding what he’s doing, but it took me just a week to figure it out, and my guess is it won’t be long before people begin to whisper. The last thing we need is for someone who has it out for him to start talking and for the media to catch wind of the story. We already have enough heat on us, especially with elections coming up.”

“Agreed.”

“He should not have pawned her off on you. If you have any issues with her, come to me.”

“Will do.”

With a nod, she starts to turn for the door. “You know how to get a hold of me if you need me.”

“Thanks, Mary, and thanks for trusting me with this.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. You earned this case by proving yourself time and time again,” she says before walking out the door and closing it behind her.

Dropping my eyes to the top of my desk, I take in the image of Alice and start to turn to the second page of the file when there is a knock. Lifting my head, I press my lips together when Jamie pokes her head inside.

“Hey, there is someone here to see you.”

“Who?” I frown. I never get visitors at work.

“She said her name is Francisca.”

My muscles bunch.

Logically, I know there are thousands of women with that name, but I only know one. The one I kissed and fucked against a wall, losing control and my sanity. Something that has never happened to me before with any other woman.

“What does she want?”

She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “To see you.”

Fuck.

“Send her in.” I get to my feet, but don’t move from behind my desk as Jamie disappears from the doorway.

What feels like a lifetime later, Francisca walks through the open door and into my office, her steps slow and unsure. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t talked myself out of going to her apartment and knocking to see if she’s home about a million times over the last few weeks, but I didn’t because sometimes things are better left as they are, and I have nothing to offer her.

“Umm, hey,” she says quietly as I take her in.

She looks nervous but still as beautiful as I remember, with her hair flowing down her back. She’s wearing a long, floral-print dress with thin straps that’s clinging to her breasts, with a light, loose sage-green sweater over it that has slipped off one shoulder, exposing a good amount of skin.

“Sorry for just popping in like this, but I didn’t know how else to get a hold of you.”

“It’s okay.” I motion to the chairs in front of me. “Do you want to sit?”

“I….” She licks her lips, looking at the chair, then me. “Sure.” Once she’s seated, I sit back down in my chair and wait, wondering what’s brought her here.

“I guess there’s no easy way to start this,” she whispers, almost like she’s talking to herself, as she fiddles with the handle of her purse on her lap. I notice then that her hands are shaking. “Do you remember when we…?” Her cheeks get red, and she shakes her head, dropping her eyes to her lap. “Of course, you remember. That’s such a stupid question.”

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