“I will.”
“And try to get some rest.”
She glanced behind him at the Wilson house. After what happened, resting anytime soon was unlikely.
He cleared his throat. “Good night, then.”
Their eyes held, a charge arcing between them. She looked away first, before she did or said something she couldn’t take back. The attraction was unmistakable, but pursuing it wasn’t wise, not with a missing girl and a killer still out there.
She suspected he knew it, too, because he turned and walked away, his boot heels echoing on the steps. She stood there, her hand on the doorknob, until the sound faded. When she went inside, her pulse hadn’t recovered.
Chapter 6
The next morning, juggling her purse, keys, and a to-go coffee, Erica was unlocking the door to her gallery when her phone buzzed in her hand. Seeing Lieutenant Cooper’s name on the screen, she nearly dropped everything, fumbling to bring the phone to her ear.
“Good morning.”
“You sound out of breath,” he said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
She stilled at his husky, morning voice. “I, uh… No. It’s fine.” She nudged the door open with her hip and walked inside, trying to get herself together. “Have you had a break in the case?”
“Not yet.”
Erica’s shoulders sagged. That wasn’t good. The more time that passed, the worse it was for Cheyenne.
“I wanted to check on you,” Coop said. “Yesterday cost you. I saw it.”
It had, but she didn’t want to dwell on that ugliness first thing in the morning. “It’s all part of the job description of being a crackpot,” she joked, trying to keep it light.
He didn’t take it that way and answered with no hesitation. “Crackpots don’t walk into a strange house and go straight to a quarter million in cash a forensic team missed,” he said, no humor in it.
That was unexpected. Being seen for what it cost her, unheard of. He was really whittling away at her defenses, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.
She made it to the counter without dropping anything and slid onto a stool, setting her coffee down. Now, she could focus. “High praise from a Texas Ranger who’s probably seen every flavor of half-baked and crazy.”
His tone changed. “I hated asking you to do that.”
Her words from the day before meant more coming from him. “I know,” she said quietly. “It’s okay.”
“For what it’s worth,” he added, “you did good work yesterday.”
She smiled, despite herself. “Careful, Lieutenant. Keep that up, and you’ll have to put me on your payroll.”
A low rumble of amusement came through the line. “I wouldn’t want to insult you with the low going rate of a public servant.”
“Impossible,” she replied. “I’m an artist. Not starving, but there have been months when I ate more ramen noodles than I care to recall.”
“Did you get any sleep?”
“A little.”
“Any dreams?”
“Nothing I could make sense of.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Neither. Just frustrating,” she admitted.
