Allison Brennan - Speak No Evil

She’d never once asked any man to bed under her parents’ roof. In fact, when she’d lived in the apartment above the garage she’d never had a man over. It felt wrong, somehow. But that had completely slipped her mind when she’d been kissing Nick in the car. All she’d thought about was him , how much she wanted to make love to him. Common sense had disappeared.

What was she doing even thinking about becoming involved with a man who wouldn’t be around? He would go back to Montana in a few days, maybe a week. Could she do that to herself? She’d never been able to have sex with someone and just walk away as if it meant nothing. She’d never wanted to have sex with a man she didn’t feel something special for.

She shivered. The thought of Nick leaving made her uncomfortable. But wouldn’t that be best? Have a great, sexy affair, no strings attached?

Was that what she wanted?

She turned the shower off and grabbed her towel. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore, except somehow Nick had become involved in her life and she didn’t want to extract him. One day at a time. Close this case, have sex with Nick, then maybe she’d figure it all out.

She wrapped the towel around her body and walked toward her bedroom.

“Hey, sis.”

She jumped, holding her towel tight, and twirled around. Her brother was standing in the kitchen, looking straight down the hall toward her. “Dillon Kincaid, you’re lucky I don’t have my gun.”

“And you’re lucky I’m not an intruder. Taking a shower with the door unlocked?”

She ignored the jibe. She’d forgotten to lock it when she came in from the porch. “Give me five minutes.”

She dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt with “Beach Bum” stenciled in blue across the front. She wasn’t on duty and had already logged all the overtime hours she was going to get for the week, but since she was going down to the station to put in time on the three homicides and observe another autopsy, she holstered her gun and tossed a blazer over her shoulder.

She went into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee and to find out why Dillon had stopped by.

“You make great coffee, sis,” Dillon said, taking a sip. “Too bad it doesn’t extend to your cooking.”

“ Tirón ,” she mumbled. Jerk .

Dillon grinned.

“Did you stop by just to annoy me?”

“I had breakfast with Mom and Dad and thought I’d stop by and tell you Andrew and I are petitioning Judge DuBois at noon to obtain a warrant for IP addresses that match the ones on the MyJournal list.”

“DuBois? That’s good. She’ll give it to you-wait! Are you saying Patrick had a breakthrough? Why didn’t he call me?”

“Not yet, but he’s close and didn’t want to have to drag a judge out in the middle of the night. He called me because I’m going at it from a psychiatric angle-that the killer is going to strike again based on what we know, and that obtaining the private information of citizens who may not be involved in order to learn the identity of the killer is essential to protecting the public, yada yada. DuBois will give it to us, but we have to jump through the right hoops. If we get the warrant thrown out after an arrest, I don’t have to tell you how screwed we are. We’ll get the warrant, then it’s all up to Patrick.”

“I owe him one. He’s been pulling all-nighters for me.”

Dillon drained his coffee and put the mug in the sink. “I saw Sheriff Thomas over at the house. I’m surprised he’s stayed on.”

“Why?”

“He’s a sheriff, for one. He has a busy job.”

What was she supposed to say? She’d been wondering about the same thing just this morning.

“Have you noticed any physical limitations?”

“You mean his knees.”

Dillon nodded. “You know he had surgery.”

“He told me.”

“Be careful. He’s not Will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Will has your back, and he’s capable of covering it. Sheriff Thomas isn’t even officially involved in the case, and he’s not your partner.”

“I think you’re worrying about nothing.”

“I hope.”

“What’s all this dumping on Nick?” She put her own mug in the sink. “I get a call from Jim and he’s all uppity about him.”

“Jim’s jealous.”

“He has nothing to be jealous about. We broke up over a year ago.”

“It’s a guy thing.”

“Guy thing. Right.” She took a brush from her purse and pulled it through her hair. “Nick has been an asset on this case. You said so yourself.”

“I agree. He has a sharp mind. He has a theory about the killer that I think is right on the money.”

“Why’d he share it with you and not me?”

“Because I was there and we were bouncing ideas back and forth. I hadn’t intended to talk about the case. He thinks the killer planned to kidnap Jodi on Wednesday night, after he planted the webcam in her kitchen, but she didn’t drink the drugged beverages. He grew angry and grabbed someone else.”

“Becca. Wrong place wrong time?”

“More like he knew her or had seen her and she was easy to subdue.”

“But that makes a connection between him and Becca, if they were in proximity.”

“Exactly. The library. And thinking about it, I think Nick is right.”

“Why?” But already Carina was putting together the pieces.

“Because the killer is immature. He was angry that Jodi messed up his plan. Ruined his fantasy. He had to take a woman that night. He had it all thought out. Probably had all the supplies on hand. Becca was there, she was nice to him, he waited for her.”

“It makes sense. Doesn’t help with figuring out who’s next.”

“Chief Causey said you have a twenty-four/seven watch on Abby and Kayla.”

“If his plan was Jodi all along, and Becca was just convenient, then Abby and Kayla could very well be in danger.”

“I agree. I also think he has other women he’s stalking. Probably connected with where he goes to school or where he works.”

“I have an undercover cop at the library during the hours he is most likely to be there, but now I’ll put one on-site full-time.”

“Good.”

Carina glanced at her watch. “Jodi Carmichael’s autopsy is in an hour. I have to pick up Nick and head over there. Do you want to observe?”

“At the beginning, then I need to meet Andrew at the courthouse. By the way, I like him,” said Dillon.

“Him who? Andrew ?” She scrunched up her nose. Though she respected her former brother-in-law as the district attorney, she and her brothers had never liked him.

“The sheriff.”

“You were just lecturing me about what he was doing hanging around the case.”

“Hmm, not quite. I was just curious, mostly.”

Carina playfully hit him.

“Seriously, I like him. He’s one of the good guys.”

Carina shook her head. “Get out of here so I can lock up. I’ll meet you at the morgue.” She didn’t know what to make of Dillon’s pronouncement, but decided not to look too deeply at it. It made her feel, well, like a teenager again when Dillon put his stamp of approval on her boyfriends.

But she was secretly pleased. Dillon’s instincts about the men in her life were usually accurate.

It took less than two minutes to back out of her garage and drive the block to her parents’ house. She ran up the stairs to the garage apartment and pounded on the door. “Hey Nick! You decent?”

No answer.

She ran back down the stairs and through the side door into the kitchen. Nick was standing at the sink rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. Nick was a big guy, broader than her dad, built more like her brother Connor, the PI. He looked strange in her mother’s kitchen, but at the same time oddly domestic, almost like he fit.