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“Want me to drive?”
“No, that’s okay.” She was too upset with him and the situation to let him ease the load.
They listened to a song on the radio before he spoke again. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing in particular.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Your expression is certainly intense for not thinking about anything ‘in particular.’”
She adjusted the air-conditioning vent closest to her so the air wouldn’t hit her so directly. Should she tell him she had the panties? Why not? Maybe he could help her decide how to proceed. “I have something,” she said.
“Something?” he repeated.
“A pair of panties.”
His lips slanted into a crooked grin. “Are you talking dirty to me?”
She tried not to smile at his joke. She felt bad for getting him fired, which was beginning to neutralize some of the resentment she’d been harboring toward him. He’d saved her life last night and bruised his knee in the process. She figured she owed him some credit for that, too. Regardless of what he might or might not have done in the past, she couldn’t stop liking him. It was that simple.
“Nothing that exciting. I’m referring to the investigation we’re no longer part of.”
He tapped the dash. “And?”
“I have the panties Paris found in Butch’s jockey box last night.”
She wasn’t sure if it was concern or anger that sharpened his voice. “How’d you get those?”
“They were on the ground. I just…picked them up.”
“I don’t remember you telling Finch and Hunsacker about any panties.”
“Because I didn’t.”
He adjusted his own air-conditioning vent. “Why not?”
“You were there. You know why.”
The beard growth on his chin rasped as he rubbed it. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“So now what? We’re off the case. Do I forget about them? Mail them anonymously to the sheriff’s office? What?”
Twisting in his seat, he leaned against the door. “Give them to me.”
“What will you do with them?”
“There’s a lab we use at Department 6. I’ll have them tested. If the tech finds sufficient DNA, I’ll have him create a profile.”
“At whose expense?”
“If my company won’t cover it, I will.”
She changed her grip on the steering wheel. “Why would you do that?”
He stared at her. “You have to ask? Why wouldn’t I if it might stop a murderer?”
“You make it very difficult not to like you,” she said grudgingly.
That crooked smile reappeared. “Too bad you’re still fighting it.”
