Allison Brennan - Speak No Evil

She shook her head. It was all Dillon’s fault, coming into her house telling her he liked Nick. What was with that? She knew better than to get involved with cops. No matter how sexy they looked doing dishes. Especially since he would be going back to Montana, and that would be that.

But it wasn’t like he worked in the San Diego Police Department, so technically he wasn’t a colleague, so she wouldn’t be breaking her rule.

That’s it . She had to do something to stop thinking about Nick carnally. Right now she was thinking about him doing the dishes naked . Now that was sexy. A man doing the dishes was one thing, doing them sans clothing was just plain fun.

She really needed to get him out of her system.

“Cara, darling.” Her mom came out of the walk-in pantry, a smile on her round face. “Let me get the fruit salad from the refrigerator. Do you want some toast?”

Carina jumped, blushed. Had she ever blushed before? She didn’t think so. But her mom had caught her thinking about sex, and Carina was positive her mother could read minds.

“No, Mama, I’m fine. Really.”

Her mother stared at her closely, eyes narrow. Carina put on a blank face and pushed all thoughts of Nick’s naked body from her mind. “What did you eat this morning? You don’t eat breakfast, so don’t lie to me.”

Food. Her mom’s favorite pastime was feeding her, so maybe she hadn’t seen the lust on her face. “I had coffee.”

“Pshaw! Coffee!”

She opened the refrigerator. Carina glanced at Nick, who’d finished with the dishes. He was grinning, trying to suppress a laugh. For the first time, she saw him relaxed. She wasn’t surprised; her mother had that effect on people.

She caught Nick’s eye, wrinkled her nose at him.

“Mama, we have to go. Duty calls.”

“How can you do anything on an empty stomach?”

“I promise, I’ll have a good lunch.”

“ No come bien, míja. Solamente trabája, trabája, trabája. ¡Madre de Dios! ¿Como te ayuda ?”

“Mama, stop that.” Carina turned to Nick. “She said I never eat.”

“I know.”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Some. Enough to get by.”

Her mother smiled broadly. “I knew I liked Nicholas the moment he walked into my home.”

“Mama, we have work.”

She glared at Carina. “Work, always work. It’s Saturday.” She shook her head. “I raised a house of workaholics. Even Lucy is upstairs doing homework!”

“I don’t believe it,” Carina laughed. “Homework on a Saturday morning?”

“She’s on that computer Papa bought her last year. She never gets off.”

Carina glanced at Nick, his expression turning as serious as hers. She’d never really talked to Lucy about the dangers of being online. Even though Lucy was a smart kid, online predators were viciously smart. Street smart. She needed to talk to Lucy about being safe, but she’d have to do it later.

Her mom smiled widely at Nick. “You’ve been very helpful, Nicholas.” She surveyed the dishwasher, closed it. “My sons tend to be rough with my dishes. You have good hands.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“ Rosa .”

“Mama, we really have to go,” Carina said. She glanced at Nick. “Autopsy,” she mouthed.

“I’m ready,” Nick said. “Thank you for a delicious breakfast, Mrs. Kincaid. Unlike some people,” he glanced at Carina with a half-smile, “I appreciate a good morning meal.”

“Kiss-ass,” she said.

“Carina Maria!”

She cringed, gave her mom a hug. “See you later, Mama.”

“Don’t know where you learned that language,” her mother said as they walked out.

In the car, Nick said, “Your mom is a great lady.”

“You are such a kiss-ass, Nick Thomas.”

She thought he’d smile, joke back with her, but instead he grew serious.

“Is something wrong?”

“I like your mom. And your dad. They’re really genuine people.”

If there was one thing that endeared someone to Carina, it was appreciating her parents, quirks and all. Her heart warmed and she pictured Nick in her mom’s kitchen. He fit in well.

She was in serious trouble. “I like them, too,” she said, trying to keep the conversation light. “What about your parents?”

Nick didn’t say anything for several minutes. Carina itched to ask a follow-up question, anything to get the conversation moving. She hated the silence.

Finally, he said, “We had what I thought was a normal family. My dad was in the military, like yours, but not career. He had two years in Vietnam, when Steve was a baby. I was born nine months after his discharge.”

Carina was about to make a joke, but a quick glance at Nick’s face as she turned the corner to the main road told her this wasn’t funny, not to him.

“Dad joined the reserves because he missed the military, was gone one weekend a month minimum, volunteered for everything. I don’t think my parents loved each other, not like yours. But they had, I don’t know, something. It was Steve and me, though, all the time. I followed him around everywhere. I wanted to be more like him, I guess. Confident and outgoing.”

“I like you just fine the way you turned out,” she said.

“I don’t have many complaints. I had a good life for the most part. Normal. But after my father died, my mother didn’t really have the heart to keep going. She died a couple years later.”

I’m sorry seemed so inadequate. “I’m lucky, I know,” Carina said instead. “We had some rough spots over the years-I was an army brat until I was sixteen. We moved all over the country. I hated it. When my dad retired here, it wasn’t soon enough for me. But even with all the moves, the new schools, making new friends, my family was always there.”

“Yes, you’re very lucky,” Nick agreed.

WHEN CARINA AND NICK ARRIVED at the coroner’s laboratory, Jim was already there. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in today.”

“I have no life outside work anymore,” he said pointedly.

“You didn’t ever have a life outside work,” Carina retorted.

“Ouch.”

“Children,” Chen said as he walked into the room.

Carina sobered up as Chen’s assistant wheeled the gurney into the autopsy room with the prepped body of Jodi Carmichael. They were in the main room, which Carina appreciated. The smaller room had a lower ceiling and was a third the size, putting Carina closer to the proceedings. Here, she could stand back and look at other things-cabinets, tools, lights-if she couldn’t stomach the autopsy. And three in one week? It had to be a record for her.

Dillon walked in and Chen said warmly, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“If you don’t mind I’d like to observe.”

“By all means, Dr. Kincaid. Glad to have you.”

“I need to leave early, but I wanted to get a sense of the killer’s mind-set. The body looks abused.”

“Yes. However, most of it occurred postmortem. She had been dead several hours.”

Dillon frowned. “She was sexually assaulted, correct?”

He nodded. “After Dr. Gage told me she had been drugged, I took the liberty of running a tox screen last night. A near-lethal dose of Rohypnol was in her system.”

Rohypnol, the so-called date-rape drug, was too often deadly. Some jerks gave it to their girlfriends thinking they’d become more compliant in bed. Others drugged their dates in order to get past first base. But sexual predators used it to knock out their victims. The women didn’t pass out immediately. Some became more susceptible to suggestions, others fell asleep, others acted like themselves but didn’t remember anything while on the drug.