I shrug, hiding my hesitation. “I have no idea. But the man in that interview room was convincing. I don’t think he had anything to do with it. Or, at the very least, his memory loss is genuine.”
“Do you want to—”
The doorbell interrupts him, and I slip off the kitchen bar stool, steadying myself with my hand on his forearm, the corded muscles flexing beneath my touch.
“Expecting someone, princess?”
“No, but don’t worry, I’ve been answering my own door for a long time. I’m sure I can manage.”
I swing the door open, Detective Anthony Williams standing at my door in dark jeans and his signature black T-shirt. He’s holding a pizza in one hand and a case of beers in the other. His dark brown eyes melting into his pupils, fanned by unfairly long lashes. It’s not the first time he’s popped round during a case. He would swing by duringThe Posercase, too, but now Jonesy is here, it’s more than a little awkward.
“Hey.” I turn around, hoping Jonesy doesn’t see before I step out onto the porch, pulling the door so it’s nearly closed. “I’m just working the case with Dr. Jones.”
“He’s here?”
“Yes.”
“In your home?” His eyes widen, and I see the disappointment on his face.
“Anthony—”
“I’m just surprised.” He expertly balances the pizza in one hand and the six-pack in the other.
“I told you, I’ve known him since college. We have a dinner club together once a month. It’s not a random person.”
“You told me you hate him.” He lifts onto his toes, attempting to peer through the crack in the doorway and down the hallway to my kitchen.
“Okay, I exaggerated. We have a weird rivalry, which, since going into our own fields, has spilled into board games and charades and dinner club, but he is...” Oh God, am I actually going to say it? “A good guy. You can stop glowering now.” As if I have to justify someone being in my home to a colleague, friend, or anyone. This is my home, and I can invite whomever I want into it.
“I don’t like you being alone with him.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Why not? He’s not dangerous, trust me. He’s had plenty of opportunities to hurt me, and he never has.”
“He has, though, Katie. We both know that.” His disappointed face has morphed into that ofa concerned parent, which only gets my hackles up further. The Anthony I thought I might want to date is starting to slip into more and more unlikely territory. I certainly don’t like being told what to do. And I absolutely don’t want secrets I’ve drunkenly admitted to be used against me in the light of day when I’m stone cold sober.
Jesus.
Last year, during a particularly bad stretch of the case, I’d drunkenly told Anthony I’d only ever been in love once, and the man broke my heart. I’m not entirely sure I meant it—being in love, I mean. Jonesy...he meant so much to me, and I was so young. I thought we were destined to be together. It was foolish. The wishful wanting of an inexperienced girl who had a lot of life lessons to learn.
“Anthony. I appreciate you coming here. I really do. But I have a lot of work to do, and I’m sure you do too.”
My front door creaks open. Jonesy stands in the entranceway to my house, his arms folded across his chest with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Hi, Detective. Is that for us? I didn’t know you moonlight as a pizza delivery guy.”
Anthony steps forward, but I block him before he can do something he regrets. The fury flashing across his face. I’ve rarely seen him like this, mostly with suspects when we can’t get a confession or enough evidence to arrest them.Jonesy hardly warrants this kind of anger, even if he is a pain in the ass.
Anthony leans around me, even with my palm pressed against his chest.
“Fuck you!” he spits, his finger pointing right at Jonesy.
“Okay, boys, that’s enough. Anthony, it's time to leave. We have work to do.”
He ignores me completely, spitting venom at Jonesy as the testosterone surrounding me reaches an unbearable level. “Have you got any idea what she needs? Or is this all just a joke to you?”
“Oh, I know what she needs, don’t worry about that,” Jonesy goads, slipping a hand onto my shoulder. I slap it away, scowling.
“You can compare dick sizes on your own time. If you want to stay—” I turn to Jonesy. “Get inside. Or get out, and you can brawl somewhere else.”
