Lara Lacombe - Killer Season

She shook her head at the wild fantasy as Officer Rodriguez—she just couldn’t call him Steve after such short acquaintance—walked back into the room. He caught her gesture and gave her a concerned look. “Everything okay?”

Fiona felt her face heat. “Um, yeah,” she stammered, grasping for something to tell him. She settled for holding up the coffee cup. “I was debating taking another sip, but decided I was better off just holding it for the warmth.”

He gave her a sympathetic wince. “Sorry about that. We drink so much of the stuff around here, you’d think we could make it better, but no one ever seems to have the time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a smile. “Bad coffee and police stations are supposed to go together. I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about it somewhere, kind of like peanut butter and jelly.”

Officer Rodriguez laughed. “I suppose you’re right.” He sat across from her and tapped the pages he’d been carrying into order. “I just have a few things for you to sign, and then you’re free to go.” He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and slid it across the table.

“First up is your statement,” he said, passing a stapled collection of pages to her. “Just review it for accuracy, and if you’re satisfied, initial at the bottom of each page and sign on the last page.”

Fiona started to glance over the text but was interrupted by the appearance of another form. “Next, we need your updated contact information. And finally,” he said, handing her yet another piece of paper, “you need to sign this form indicating your desire to press charges against the assailant.”

“Do you think he’ll be convicted?”

Officer Rodriguez shrugged. “I doubt he’ll make it to trial—his public defender will probably try to plead him out.”

Fiona nodded. “Good.” She grabbed the pen and prepared to sign, but a disturbing thought made her pause. “Will he know my name?”

The officer frowned. “The perp? If it goes to trial, then, yeah. That will be a matter of public record.” He watched her set the pen down and rushed to add, “But you don’t need to worry. I’ve never seen a case where the witness was harmed for testifying.”

That was reassuring news, but Fiona still felt uncertain. What if he got out on parole? Wouldn’t he be angry with her for sending him to jail in the first place?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Officer Rodriguez offered her a reassuring smile. “In my experience, once the trial is over, the victims are able to move on with their lives.”

“So you don’t think he’d come after me if I decided to press charges?”

The officer shook his head. “It’s not worth it. If he contacted you, he’d be in even worse trouble. Criminals are dumb, but they’re not stupid, know what I mean?”

Not really, but his confidence went some way toward calming her nerves. This was the right thing to do—if she didn’t press charges, the man who’d attacked her might get away with it, leaving him free to rob again. And the next time, there wouldn’t be a police officer there to save the day.

On a sudden burst of conviction, she signed the bottom of the form and pushed it across the table. There. It was done. No going back now.

Officer Rodriguez collected the papers and gave her a smile. “You’re doing the right thing, ma’am.”

She nodded as he left the room. Now what? She’d given her statement, answered all their questions and signed the necessary paperwork. Was there anything left for her to do here?

“I want to go home,” she muttered, swirling the dark brew around the cup.

“That can be arranged.”

She jumped at the voice, spilling the now-lukewarm coffee down the sides of the cup and over her fingers. Shaking her hands to dry them off, she turned around to find Hot Guy— Nate , she reminded herself firmly—leaning against the doorjamb. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and his long legs were crossed at the ankle as he regarded her with those mossy-green eyes.

“Sorry.” He smiled at her, the expression transforming his face from watchful to beautiful in a heartbeat. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He stepped into the room, and Fiona fought the urge to lean back in her chair. He was just so big, his presence impossible to ignore in the interview room. It hadn’t seemed like a small space before when Officer Rodriguez had questioned her, but now she felt the walls were closing in on her, the room shrinking down to her and Nate.

“It’s okay,” she replied, wiping her still-damp hands on her pants. “I’m just a little jumpy tonight.” She offered him a weak smile as he took the chair across from her.

“Understandable,” he said, leaning forward to place his forearms on the table. With his hands linked together loosely, he could be mistaken for a man at rest. But as Fiona took in his pose, she could tell by the set of his shoulders and his alert gaze that he was anything but relaxed.

Why was he here? She was happy to see him, but she really did want to go home. Officer Rodriguez had made it sound as if she could leave soon, but with Nate settling in across from her, she now wondered if there had been a delay—maybe there were more forms to fill out, more questions to answer.

“When can I leave?”

“Should just be a few more minutes. I came to keep you company while they’re wrapping things up, and then I’ll take you back to the store so you can get your car.”

She shivered, dread washing over her at the thought of going back to the store. She didn’t want to be there, at least not tonight. She wanted to go home and soak in a hot bath, to wash the events of the night off her and rebuild her defenses before facing the store again.

Nate noticed her reaction, his eyes narrowing slightly while he watched her. “Is there someplace else you’d rather go?”

“I’d rather you take me home.” She felt her face heat as the boldness of her words registered. “Um, I mean... I don’t feel up to going to the store now, if that’s okay.”

His lips twitched, his eyes warming as he took in her blush. Rubbing a finger along his lower lip, he nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” His voice, deep to begin with, seemed to drop another register. Fiona lifted her gaze from his mouth to his eyes, seeing a flash of heat there. Was he flirting with her? No way. She mentally shook her head. Handsome men like Nate didn’t bother to give her a second look. The stress of the evening was making her hallucinate, had her hearing and seeing things that weren’t there. All the more reason to retreat to her house and regroup.

She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door as Officer Rodriguez returned. He caught sight of Nate and drew up short, surprise registering on his face. “Oh. I didn’t know you were in here.”

Nate leaned back and propped his hands behind his head. “They finished up with me, so I thought I’d keep Ms....” He trailed off, cut his glance to her and raised a brow inquisitively.

“Sanders,” she supplied helpfully.

He winked at her, making her heart thump double time. Then he looked back to Officer Rodriguez. “Like I was saying, I decided to keep Ms. Sanders company. She was looking lonely.”

The other man looked at Nate, then swiveled his head to look at her before turning back to Nate. Fiona blushed again, feeling suddenly shy in the face of his perusal. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t buy Nate’s story for a minute.

Fiona cleared her throat, interrupting the men’s impromptu staring contest. “Can I go?”

Officer Rodriguez gave her a small smile. “Yes, ma’am. Thanks for your help tonight.”