She folded her arms over her chest, tucking her hands beneath her arms as if she needed to protect them. “I told you, I’m not going to stop until I’m done.”
“No matter the cost?”
Fury lit in those blue eyes. “You’re a fine one to ask that question.”
He was the one looking away this time. She had him there. “Trust me.” He leveled his gaze on hers. “You don’t want to carry that burden.”
The silence dragged on a full minute.
Okay, he had a homicide scene to get back to. “Let’s have a look at your locks.” He pushed to his feet, stepped from between the sofa and coffee table.
She stood. A couple of inches of flat belly were revealed by the short tee. His throat tightened. Flashes from the other night, when he’d been so deep inside her, slammed into his gut. God, he wanted to touch her.
“It wasn’t locked when I got up,” she told him, “but I’m certain I locked it before I went to bed.”
Braddock shook off the forbidden thoughts. The techs had already dusted the door for prints. He squatted down to get a closer look. There were signs of forced entry but those marks appeared older. He twisted the knob.
“You need a new lock with a dead bolt today if you plan to continue staying here.” He pushed upright. “Anyone could unlock that door with nothing more than a credit card.”
“God. I should have thought of that. My apartment in Baltimore has three locks; two are dead bolts.”
“You can’t bully your way around in this neighborhood and then leave yourself open to attack.” He hated to harp on what she surely recognized at this point, but he needed to be certain the message got through. “You’re operating on emotion, and that can be hazardous to your health.”
“I can see that.” Her arms went around her torso again. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Consider yourself lucky that you’re getting another chance. Not all of Nash’s targets get that.”
A sedan pulled to the curb in front of her house. Braddock recognized the driver emerging.
Edward Abbott.
Abbott glanced at the official vehicles, then at the house. A uniform delayed him at the gate.
CJ was out the door and down the steps before Braddock could utter one of his usual negative comments about the guy.
Edward Abbott embraced CJ as if he hadn’t seen her in years. When he drew back he surveyed her from head to toe, then hugged her again.
Braddock moved across the porch and down the steps so he could hear the exchange.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
She nodded. “Just a little shaken.”
Abbott’s head wagged. “I was afraid something like this would happen. You really shouldn’t be staying here. It’s not safe.”
CJ sensed his presence and turned to Braddock. “Edward, I believe you know Detective Braddock. He’s investigating Shelley’s murder.”
Abbott stepped forward, extended his hand. “We’ve met once before, I believe.”
Braddock shook the man’s hand. Firm, confident grip. “You would be correct.” Abbott had come over to check on Shelley when Braddock investigated the break-in nearly a year ago.
“Is there anything new on Shelley’s case?”
“We’re waiting on the autopsy results.” Sounded better than no.
“Ricky Banks is dead,” CJ told her friend. “Someone murdered him last night. In his aunt’s house.”
Edward frowned. “Isn’t he the man you suspected of ... hurting Shelley?”
