Carla Cassidy - Scene of the Crime - Baton Rouge

“And he knew I was an FBI agent and had time before they met us here to make that phone call.” Her stomach ached as she thought of the call.

They spoke no more until he pulled into her driveway. He cut the engine, turned out the car lights and then looked at her, his features visible in the streetlight next to her driveway.

“You want me to take your cell phone?” he asked.

She frowned at him in surprise. “Why would I want you to do that?”

“In case he calls again...so you don’t have to deal with it.”

“If he calls again it’s because for some reason he wants to talk to me. You can’t protect me, Alex. I can handle this. I’m fine.”

She saw the frown that shot across his brow. “You’re always so damn strong, Georgina. You never need anyone.”

She drew in a breath. “Are we talking about a phone call or are we discussing personal history?”

Leaning his head back, he raked a hand through his thick dark hair. “I don’t know, maybe a little of both,” he admitted.

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