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Right. Moving on.

Clearing my throat, I waved a hand over the body draped with a white sheet like a morbid Vanna White. “As I was saying before I spaced out and brought up the destruction of a vital part of our ecosystem, you were right about Mrs. Pickard here. She did not hit her head and drown in her home bathtub like her husband claimed happened.”

Slade’s intense green eyes stayed locked on me for several seconds before he gave a subtle shake of his head, breaking eye contact to stare down at the murder victim.

“So, no water in her lungs?” I dipped my chin in confirmation. “So, what was the cause of death, then?” he asked, features hardening as he took in the dead woman’s face. “Are those bruises pre or postmortem?”

“The slight bruising on her face and shoulder was healing, so it wasn’t part of the trauma inflicted at time of death.” Pulling a pen free from my lab coat, I pointed the cap end at her neck. “Here is where I found the cause of death. The hyoid bone is fractured—”

His string of muttered curses cut me off. “That motherfucker strangled his wife and staged the whole fucking thing.”

The vibrating anger in his harsh tone had me sucking in a sharp breath.

Sure, Slade was sinfully good-looking, but his unapologetic protective side was his most alluring feature from my perspective. Mess with women or kids and growly Slade came out in full force, and I had to lock my knees to keep from melting to the floor. I was as attracted to this emotional side of him as I was physically.

Hands curled into tight fists, he pressed them to the side of the steel table, the black ink designs along each finger standing out as the color bled from his normally tan skin.

“What else did you find?” he rasped, clearly restraining his growing rage at the man who killed his young wife in cold blood.

“Based on the bruising on her back, I’d say he held her down with a knee or hand between the shoulder blades while he strangled her from behind with either a towel or sheet, maybe. Not his hands or rope—I would’ve found distinctive bruising. I pulled a few white cotton fibers out of her hair and off the skin around her neck and sent them to the forensics lab in San Diego for analysis. Did you guys collect anything from their apartment that I could pull a sample from to test for a match on the fibers I found on her?”

“We bagged and tagged so much shit from their apartment that I lost count of what all we have. But I’ll go through the evidence and see if anything matches what you’re describing.”

I nodded, knowing he’d be up here all night sifting through evidence, looking for anything that could help the case. “If you find something, let me know. I’ll also swab it for DNA. It might not do much in court since they both lived in the apartment, so both sets of DNA would be on the item, but I might be able to prove where it was placed around her neck and where he gripped it based on the heavy presence of skin cells. Better than nothing.”

The muscle along his jaw ticked, something that happened when he ground his teeth in frustration. Reaching up, he rubbed a wide palm over his short jet-black hair.

“This evidence, along with the hospital reports from previous domestic abuse, should be enough to convince a jury that her bastard of a husband did this on purpose.”

The soles of my shoes squeaked along the floor when I twisted to check the time. When I turned back, Slade’s attention was no longer on the woman between us but locked on me.

“Where are you going to meet this guy?”

I shoved both hands into the pockets of my lab coat to keep from fidgeting under the intensity in his gaze. “The Lager.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “You chose a known cop bar for a date?”

I nodded, not understanding the humor lining his tone. “Well, yeah. I’m new to this online dating thing, and I wanted to go somewhere safe. I’ve heard some others talk about it….” I licked my lips. “Is that a terrible choice? Should I change—”

“It’s fine.”

Disappointment rushed through me, sinking into my stomach. Not sure what I was hoping for, but him saying it was fine that I was about to go out on a date with a complete stranger wasn’t it.

“Right, well, I need to get things wrapped up here so I can get home and change.”

That intense gaze slid down my body, taking in my simple baby blue blouse and black pants. “You look fine.”

Fine.Again with that damn word.

Notgood. Notbeautiful. Nothot.

Justfine.

Wasn’t that always the case with me? Not ugly, but not really attractive. Not too tall, but tall enough to scare most men off. I was stuck in this middle zone where men saw me as the quirky friend, not the one they wanted a relationship with. Maybe that was why I married Josh despite the red flags he’d waved early in our relationship. He gave me attention, said all the right words, and I fell hook, line, and sinker.

“Doesn’t the fish only fall for the bait? Not really the hook or line, or even the sinker, for that matter.”

“Do I even want to know?” Slade chuckled.

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