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“No, ma’am. I’m doing this by the book.”
“You were leaning against my car, so if you weren’t about to do an illegal search, what the hell were you doing?” she asked sharply. She could hear the hostility in her voice—she, who made it a practice to stay cool and calm, but she didn’t care.
“Waiting for you.”
“For what reason? Why didn’t you come inside and say whatever you want to say? For that matter, why come back at all? You could have called.”
“I thought I might get some runaround about you not being available if I called.”
She jerked her head up, anger glittering in her eyes. “I’ve cooperated completely. So has my mother. I haven’t given you any reason to think you might get the runaround.”
“Yes, ma’am, you have cooperated,” he said in a bland voice. “I appreciate it, too.”
The way he kept calling her “ma’am” was setting her teeth on edge, and he knew it. “Then your excuse doesn’t hold water, Detective.”
“I wanted to make certain you got my message.”
“I got it, loud and clear,” she said tersely. She looked at his car, parked beside hers, and a couple of questions came to mind. “How did you know which car is mine?” After all, she and Madelyn drove identical Jags.
“I ran the license plate.”
Great. She didn’t like the idea of her name being sent all over law enfo
rcement land, but there was nothing she could do about it. The fact that she was a suspect in a murder case probably wasn’t a state secret, either. Without commenting, she moved on to the second question: “How did you know I’d be coming out?” Surely he hadn’t been intending to lean against her car, waiting for her, until she went out for lunch. She thought she knew the answer, but she wanted to make certain.
“I have your briefcase, remember? I’ve read everything in it. I know what your schedule is, so I figured you’d be leaving for your appointment in Dunwoody pretty soon.”
Just as she’d thought. She clenched her teeth. She hated to ask him for anything, but this was the perfect opportunity. “May I have my briefcase back?” Before he could refuse, she tacked on, “Or keep the briefcase and let me have the contents. I need my files. Failing that, could you have someone just copy the files for me?”
“The briefcase is evidence recovered at a crime scene,” he said, which she took for a big fat No. Then he continued, “I don’t see any reason why copies of the contents can’t be made for you. I’ll check with the lieutenant. If he gives the okay, I’ll make sure you get them.”
Crap, now she had to thank him. The words were like sawdust in her mouth, but she got them out. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
God, talking to him was like ripping a bandage off a wound that had just that moment stopped bleeding. She would not let him get to her like this. She would get angry, but she refused to let him hurt her, refused to let him mean that much to her.
Too late, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. She should have listened to that little voice the night before last when she’d invited Eric over, but instead she’d shoved it aside. She should have listened then, but she still didn’t want to listen now. She wanted both the little voice and Eric to just go away. She could deal; she would deal. It might take some time, but she’d do it.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, her voice stiff.
“No, that’s all for now.”
Keeping her expression as blank as possible, she edged past him to her car, got in, and drove away without looking back.
That had gone well, Eric thought sourly as he got back in his car. He’d known she wouldn’t like being told not to leave the area, but he’d done it because she was a person of interest and that was what he was supposed to do. He’d followed the book; he’d played by the rules. He hadn’t given her any indication of special consideration, hadn’t offered to do her any favors, not even a tiny one. As his reward, she’d looked at him as if he were a slug she’d just stepped on, and she needed to wipe the slime off the bottom of her fancy shoe.
It especially pissed him off because he was doing everything he could to get her removed from their suspect list, and if he didn’t play by the rules, he’d be removed from the case. Any of the other detectives on the force would do their best to solve the case, and they were good guys, but they didn’t have the extra motivation he did.
He’d been up late the previous night, and he’d gotten an early start today. He hadn’t even been in to headquarters yet because he’d wanted to interview Madelyn Wilde and get that over with. The fact that she was so organized helped; he doubted she took a piss break without making a little note of it in her schedule—coded, of course, so no one glancing at her paperwork would know she’d actually had to stop and take a leak. She was a solid alibi. Unless the lab report came back saying Jaclyn’s black outfit had been covered with Carrie Edwards’s blood, which he sure as hell didn’t expect, then Jaclyn was well on the way to being cleared.
Not that she appeared to give a shit. She was so pissed at him she wasn’t even going to give him the benefit of the doubt.
But, damn, he liked the way she looked with fire in her eyes. The cool lady could be pushed out of control, and he bet that would be a lot of fun. He’d broken through that control in bed, he’d had her digging her fingernails into his back and biting her pillow to keep from screaming, but he liked knowing he could get to her out of bed, too. It was kind of the same thing as the fact that she made lousy coffee. He felt a little bit of the princess and the pauper with her, even though she hadn’t said or done anything to suggest she felt the same. Maybe he was a little insecure.
He thought about that for a split second, then shook his head. Nah. He just wanted to know if he could roll and tumble with her, without her freaking out if her hair got messed up, or if she’d break down in tears if he so much as raised his voice. From what he’d seen this morning, he had no worries on that score—assuming she’d ever give him the chance to roll and tumble with her.
First things first: clear her of suspicion, then work on getting back in her good graces.
