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“Anyway, I ordered a search warrant for the property, which I helped to execute this evening. I’ve just left Herb’s place. Senior Constable Jackson is in charge now, and the boxes should be at the station waiting for the team to go through first thing tomorrow.”
“Poor Margie. Poor Herb. They probably don’t deserve to be mixed up in this.” Lacey sighed and put down her now-empty wineglass. He knew what she meant. It would’ve been a scary thing for the old couple to go through, watching their house being searched by a team of police. Wondering what it all meant for them. Nico had been professional and brisk when he’d first knocked on the door to the cottage. When Margie’s surprised face had crumpled into dismay and then despair as he read out the rights on the search warrant, he had to stop his immediate reaction to put his arm around her shoulder and comfort her. He’d had to remind himself to do his job. That by doing his job, he was protecting the innocent, even if it didn’t feel much like it at that moment.
“Perhaps not. But with this information, along with Margie’s admission that Herb might not have been in bed where he was supposed to be on the night of the murder—Herb never confirmed whether he suffered from insomnia, or whether he was awake that night—you know what it means, don’t you?”
Lacey nodded her head sadly. “Yes. Do you think he realizes he’s a suspect yet?”
“Not sure.” Nico refilled Lacey’s glass and his own, then leaned back into the couch and stared at the fire, the flames having died down to bright glowing coals. This was the hardest part of being a small town detective. Sometimes the people he knew and perhaps even loved were involved in the crimes he was called on to investigate.
“So, that’s where you’ve been tonight?” she asked, compassion in the lines around her eyes.
“Yes.” There was no need for more of an answer. She would probably comprehend how hard that’d been for him.
“How was Gabriel this afternoon?” Nico decided it was time to stop talking shop and change the subject.
“What?” Lacey looked up sharply. “Oh, yes. It was lovely of him to drive me home. We talked about all the good places I have yet to see around Tasmania.” But it wasn’t her words he was concentrating on. Rather her body language. Had her face just turned pink? Or was it the reflection from the flames?
What had Gabe said to her? It wouldn’t surprise him if Gabe had been trying to matchmake. Nico gave a soft sigh. Damn Gabe and his meddling ways.
“You talked about Tasmania?” he asked a little dully, trying—and failing—to get his mind operating again. But it wouldn’t cooperate. All he could think about was what Lacey might’ve said to Gabe in response. Was she just as attracted to him? The idea was riveting.
“Yes,” she replied, but he hardly knew what she was agreeing too. She took a sip of wine, leaving a ruby-red drop of liquid trembling on her top lip. He became mesmerized by that droplet, couldn’t look away. She noticed his gaze and her tongue came out to lick the wine away. But goddamnit, her attempt to remove the liquid just made the whole thing that much more seductive. Now he was noticing how lush her lips were. How her bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top. And how her front teeth were straight and white as she opened her mouth a little, as if about to speak. She stared at him, those big tawny eyes fixed on him. She had long, sandy eyelashes that framed her eyes. Was it the second glass of wine making him a little crazy?
He leaned forward, not really aware of what he was doing, only knowing he was drawn toward this woman. He looked down to see their knees were almost touching. When he glanced up again, she was suddenly closer, also leaning in to him. Their eyes locked and he couldn’t look away. The silken sheet of her blonde hair drifted past her face, and before he knew it, he was running the strands through his fingers, feeling the softness against his palm. Her skin looked velvety in the firelight as he traced the contours of her face with his gaze. He wanted to kiss her. Desperately. The urge thrummed through him like a smoldering fire. He forgot all about the fact she was leaving soon. Forgot all about the murder investigation they were both tied up in. Forgot all the important things and focussed on her, and her alone. His hand wandered to her thigh. It was firm and warm beneath his fingers.
His concentration narrowed until there was just her and him in the room. He moved closer. Or was it her who moved? A tickle of her warm breath flowed over his lips, they were so near now. So near he could see the golden flecks in her eyes glowing in the firelight.
He let himself go.
Leaning in, his lips almost touched hers.
There was a loud banging on the front door.
No!
He willed whoever was there to go away.
Lacey licked her lips and he watched, fascinated by her pink tongue.
“I know you’re in there,” a deep voice bellowed. Followed by more banging.
Shit. Both he and Lacey sat back at the same time.
“Who the hell…?” he growled. But the moment had been shattered into a thousand shards.
“Let me in,” the voice bellowed again, and this time, Nico caught a hint of menace. As well as a slight slurring. Whoever was knocking on his door at this late hour of the evening was drunk. And Nico wasn’t happy. Not happy at all.
Pushing out of his chair, he stomped down the hallway, ready to tell this person to rack off.
Lacey was right behind him as he strode toward the door, and as the banging got louder, he suddenly wished he’d taken the time to collect his firearm. The front door was original to the cottage, but had been restored along with the rest of the building. It was solid wood, but sported two glass leadlight panes in the upper half. Whoever was on the other side of the door, they were rattling it so hard he was worried the glass might break. Fleetingly, he wondered if he should perhaps replace the door with something more security conscious. And get a peephole installed. Because right now he was opening the door blind, and had no idea what or who was going to greet him on the other side. He flicked on the porch light and saw a large man silhouetted in the glow.
Putting his hand on the door handle, he pushed Lacey behind him, ignoring her protests, and opened the door just enough to see who was standing on his front porch, keeping his foot firmly jammed up against the inside.
It was Karim Khaled, Rania’s boyfriend.
“What are you doing here?” Nico demanded, keeping a firm hold on the door. He cursed inwardly. Of course Karim would know where he lived. Most of the residents of Boat Harbour knew where the local detective lived. If this guy tried to force his way in, he’d have a harder time than he imagined. Lacey stood on tiptoe and peered over Nico’s shoulder. Karim leaned against the doorjamb, looking as if he could hardly support himself. This guy was more than drunk, he was completely blotto. Not a good sign.
As soon as Karim’s gaze landed on Lacey’s face, he stood upright and became more animated. “You,” he said, pointing at Lacey. “You were there. When she…” He didn’t seem to be able to bring himself to say the word. Nico tried to push Lacey farther behind him, but she resisted. He knew she was probably fuming at his overprotective gesture, and would most likely tell him in no uncertain terms that she could protect herself. Which she could, he could personally attest to her self-defense skills. But this was his house, and he was in charge here.
