Page 17 of Built of Illusions

Roman shrugged. “A list of hundreds of potential suspects.”

His voice showed his weariness and Nico shut down his own computer. His partner was right. “Hundreds is better than the thousands we had this morning.”

It wasn’t long before they grabbed their cars from the lot and headed out. Instead of turning towards his condo, Nico found his car turning in the other direction.

Toward Josie’s new little house. The thought made him smile for the first time that day. She was just the ray of sunshine he needed.

Which meant he should turn his ass around and head home. He hadn’t had enough sleep and was probably about to do something stupid.

The car didn’t turn itself, and Nico kept smiling.

Josie dropped her paintbrush at the sound of a knock on the door. Her heart stuttered then galloped at the noise. A quick look at the clock on the stove said it was after eight o’clock at night. Who would knock on her door at that time? She hadn’t met a single neighbor yet and this wasn’t a typical time for anyone to borrow a cup of sugar.

The images she’d sketched ran through her mind and her entire body shuddered. Where had she left her phone?

“Hey, Josie. It’s Nico. Just realizing it’s late and I should have called you first.”

Relief made Josie light-headed and she sucked in a deep breath as she moved to the door. A quick squeeze of her hands and another deep breath had her steady enough to disengage all the locks and open the door.

Nico stood on her tiny porch with an aw-shucks grin on his face. “Sorry. Probably scared you with the knock.”

He had, but that didn’t mean she had to admit it. When she didn’t open the door further, he raised an eyebrow. “You going to invite me in?”

Josie stepped back and held open the door. “Come on in.”

She didn’t normally get company and her house most certainly wasn’t set up for it. There was no couch or comfy chairs. Just art stuff and a table with an easel where she was currently painting out the emotions that threatened to consume her.

Once Nico was in the room, Josie closed and locked the door. She knew he’d notice and make assumptions, but her nerves wouldn’t let her do anything else.

When she turned to him, she didn’t see the expected smirk. Instead, he nodded in approval, which made her feel less paranoid and more sensible.

Nico’s eyes showed strain and exhaustion. She barely stopped herself from pulling him in for a comforting hug. The people at Midnight Lake were a touchy-feely bunch and hugged often. She’d probably been hugged more in the week she’d spent in Vermont than she had throughout the rest of her life. Which was exactly as pathetic as it sounded. Now that she’d bought a house, she needed to move onto her next life goal. Connections. Relationships.

Taking those kinds of risks was far scarier than buying a house with a mortgage. People had let her down far more frequently than not. The shining exceptions made Josie want to do better, be better.

She reached out to pat Nico’s arm. “Are you okay? You look a little worn down.”

His eyes widened at that and he frowned. He straightened his already straight stance and lifted his chin. “I’m fine. Worked through the night last night.” His hands quickly patted over his fancy suit and she saw him check his shiny shoes as well.

His defensive reaction had her smiling. “No worries, Nico. Your suit and shoes are impeccable. It’s your eyes that give away the story.”

His frown deepened, making her smile widen. “Mr. Profiler doesn’t like anyone to see past the illusion? Shouldn’t have dropped by an artist’s home. Come on and have a seat. I’ve only got water, tea, and coffee. What would you like?”

Instead of waiting for his answer, she filled the kettle and set it on the stove. No way was she giving him coffee. The sexy man she was developing a serious thing for needed to sleep. “How about some of Tansy’s cinnamon-something? She sent me home with a stash.”

“Sure.”

She grabbed mugs and then turned to find Nico wandering her space, checking out her art. Once again, she reminded herself that she didn’t mind people looking at her work. She just preferred it when she wasn’t in the same room.

Or when their opinion didn’t matter. Nico’s did. Which it shouldn’t. Her art was between her and the medium. But his opinion still mattered.

Josie stayed by the stove, watching him move through the room. Several times, his hand reached out, but stopped short of actually touching a piece. The clay sculptures she hadn’t squished yet. The painting in progress. He stood there for several minutes and didn’t turn when the kettle whistled.

After she steeped the tea, she brought the mugs to the island and found Nico now sitting flipping through one of her sketchpads. “Tea’s ready.”

He nodded but didn’t stop flipping. Which pad did he have? His frown had deepened again and she moved to take the book from him.

He simply turned his back on her and kept looking. “These are amazing. You only saw those photos for a minute or two.”

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