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“I know how it would turn out.” The disappointment in his tone had my movements pausing. “And it’s never the way I intended.”

My throat worked as I swallowed hard. What in the hell was going on here? We never had these types of conversations. It was always about work, the cases and evidence. I didn’t know how to process this Slade with the grumpy detective I’d known since arriving in Santa Coasta.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked to get us back into safe territory. Discussing the various homicide cases he and I worked on together was way easier than whatever this oddity was. Pressing the power button on the machine, I skirted around him to sit in the small armchair that sat catty-corner to the love seat.

He tracked my every move until I was settled. Lips pressed in a tight line, he returned to his seat, spreading his knees wide, taking up most of the space.

“After reviewing your notes and going back through mine of the crime scenes, I agree with you. One perp committed those four unsolved homicides.”

The machine beeped, signaling my coffee was ready, but I ignored it. Instead, I leaned forward, eager for Slade to continue.

“I think we have a serial killer in Santa Coasta.”

All the air rushed from my lungs in a forced breath.

“Wow,” I said, flopping backward. Rubbing at the back of my neck, I stared at the wall behind Slade, mind racing with what this meant. “Damnit, I didn’t want to be right.”

“I know. But whether or not you wanted it, you were.”

“What do we do now?” I leveled a pleading stare his way. “I’ve never worked on something of that scale. What if I miss something and—”

“Neither have I, Rain. Which is why I called the Behavioral Science Unit.”

I wrinkled my nose. “The who?”

“The FBI.” My dark brows flew up my forehead at that. “The unit leader in Dallas reviewed the case files and agreed with us. They’re sending someone from the team to help.” Switching the mug to his other hand, Slade glanced at his watch. “With the storms rolling in, he won’t land until late tonight, so we can meet him here tomorrow morning.”

Serial killer.

The FBI coming in to help.

Slade acting strange.

Why did I get a feeling my boring, predictable life was about to get a lot more interesting?

3

RAIN

“You must be Rain.”

I glanced up from the sticky laminated menu to the man standing beside the high-top table I’d scored five minutes ago. When I arrived ten minutes late. Which meant he was fifteen. Not a great first impression, but I was late, too, so I couldn’t hold it against him.

Too much.

I sure as hell wasn’t about to lower my standards on punctuality—or anything else, for that matter. This was my chance to start over.

Instead of standing from the tall barstool for an awkward hug I absolutely didn’t want, I held out my hand. “And you must be Tyler. Pleasure to meet you.”

His fingertips slid along my palm as he released his limp handshake in an icky way that made me wipe my hand along my black slacks.

“I apologize for being late,” he said with a half smile. “Traffic getting out of San Diego was a nightmare.”

A server approached and asked for our order. Instead of motioning for me to go first, Tyler spoke up. “We’ll have two dirty martinis, please.” He sat up straighter and pulled the menu from my loose hold.

“I don’t like vodka,” I offered with a brittle smile. “I’ll have—”

“It’s okay,” he said, cutting me off and waving the server away. “I’m sure you’ll love this. It’s my favorite drink.”

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