Page 80 of Midnight Secrets

They weren’t the only parts of my body feeling it, either. I pressed my fingertips to my eyes, hoping to drum up some moisture. Between filling out reports, running searches for my other cases, and the continued search for the logo from the Hammond case, my eyes felt like I’d rubbed them with sandpaper.

Mostly, I felt like a hamster spinning in its wheel.

It had been three days since I discovered the missing sweatshirt, and I still had no clue what the logo was or where the shirt went. Forensics didn’t have it. Riggs didn’t remember seeing it. Neither did Turner. Lynne Young, Claire’s stager, never went upstairs, so she didn’t have a clue what I was talking about.

The break I thought I’d gotten with this case had officially hit a dead end.

Heels clacking on the tile floor brought my attention back to my surroundings. I glanced out the door and spotted Riggs’sassistant, Nina, walking past. She stuttered to a halt and reversed direction, poking her head in my door.

“Why are you still here?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?” Lifting my wrist, I checked my watch. “It’s only just past five.”

“Right, but you were here well before me this morning. And every morning for the last several days.”

“Crimes don’t solve themselves.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Neither do detectives who can’t see the forest through the trees because they’re burned out.”

“I’m fine.” Molars clenched, I turned my attention to the computer screen and gave the mouse a shake to locate it.

She snorted. “That’s a load of hogwash. Why don’t you head out? Take that pretty girlfriend of yours out to dinner. She could probably use the distraction as much as you. Poor thing. What happened to her office is just terrible.”

My body stirred at the mention of Claire. I’d spent every night at her place since Sunday. Work wasn’t the only reason I was sleep-deprived.

I spared Nina a quick look. “She has to work late.” Which was true. She and her staff had rescheduled appointments and showings, extending their hours to keep from losing too much ground. None of them got paid if the business didn’t sell properties.

“So get it to go and surprise her with it when she’s done.”

Giving her another look through my lashes, I tried not to look too intrigued. That wasn’t a bad idea. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

She grinned. “You’re a quick study, Detective Quartermaine. Maybe put those brains to good use and lock down your girl? Claire Holmes is quite the catch.” Tapping a hand on the doorframe, she quickly left.

I puffed out my cheeks and leaned forward. The chair creaked again with my weight, but I ignored it and went back to scrolling through the image search I’d run on the logo.

Was she right? Not about Claire being a catch. That I knew. Claire was classy, highly intelligent, beautiful, and successful. Of course she was a catch.

But was Nina right about the need to “woo” her?

It probably wouldn’t hurt. It can’t always be about sex.

I pressed my mouth into a thin line as the thought floated through my mind. That made sense. In fact, we’d probably done things the wrong way around.

I drummed my fingers on the desk, staring blankly at the computer screen. I definitely didn’t want things to be a flash in the pan with Claire. When I moved here, it wasn’t my intention to get into a relationship so quickly. But now that she was in my life, I didn’t want her to walk away. Chemistry would only carry us so far.

Before I could second-guess myself, I shut my computer down and pushed away from the desk. I’d get another batch of crab legs, and this time we’d eat them hot.

Stepping out of the station, I stuffed my hands in my pockets, hunching my shoulders and tucking my head. The wind had a bite to it again, and the sky had that same leaden appearance from the other night when we got several inches of snow.

My phone buzzed in my pocket against my hand as I made my way across the parking lot to my truck. I hurried to my vehicle and hopped inside before taking it out to look at it. Ellis’s name lit up on the screen.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Hey, you up for a beer?”

I put my foot on the brake and started the car. Cold air blasted from the vents and the infotainment system picked up the call audio. “Can’t. I have plans.”

Ellis’s snort filled the truck cab. “Let me guess—work?”

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