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Dana closed the last file folder and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. Her shoulders ached, her eyes were gritty, and her stomach felt as if she’d poured acid into it. Well, maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth. Cole Landry made sure someone brought her coffee on a regular basis, probably hoping it would poison her, as bad as it was.
If she’d had trouble sleeping before, she wondered if she’d ever close her eyes again after forcing herself to read every horrific detail of every crime, every autopsy. She didn’t know how the sheriff’s deputies who found the bodies had managed to deal with it. Here were all the details that never made it into the news reports.
But with all that, there was still no clue to identify the pedophile. Nothing. All she had, besides the reports and articles, were vague memories and the song.
The damn song. Surely, it had to have some significance, maybe something that would click in someone else’s mind if she told them.
Ifshe told them.
She really didn’t know why she never mentioned it to anyone, not even the police or her parents. Maybe subconsciously, she was afraid the killer would know, find her, and finish the job.
And isn’t that just so stupid.
“I give you credit.” The deep voice behind her startled her, and she jumped. “I figured you’d quit long before this.”
When she turned in her chair, she found Cole Landry standing almost directly behind her. That same sensation of heat and sizzle—the one she’d given up hoping she’d ever feel—pounded through her. Her breasts tingled, and the pulse between her thighs rocked with an unfamiliar throbbing. Over the years, she'd schooled herself not to panic when men she didn’t know well came too close. Except this wasn’t panic.
Although it probably should be.
She tried to conceal how shaky she was as she gathered her things. “I thought it would be easier if I just plowed through it all in one day. Then I wouldn’t have to bother you again.”
“And you could start on the next phase of your work.”
“Something like that.” She still hadn’t looked directly at him. Why wouldn’t he go away? The tiny flicker of attraction between them was going to be trouble for her if she didn’t squash it.
“Let me get these folders out of your way.” He moved to stand next to her, almost touching her as he reached for the pile on the table.
Without thinking, Dana flinched.
The sheriff took a step back, a look of curiosity flashing briefly across his face. “Sorry.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No,I’msorry. I’m just a little jumpy from reading these files.”
It wasn’t so much the touch of a man affecting her as it wasthisman’s touch. The unfamiliar heat. The heaviness in her breasts. Dampness between her thighs. God, she never got wet for anyone. That was part of her problem. Did it have to be this macho asshole who woke up her pheromones? She drew in a deep, steadying breath.
“I can understand.” But his eyes, studying her face, were filled with questions.
She snapped her briefcase shut, hitched the strap of her purse over her shoulder, and hurried toward the door. She had to get out of here. Quickly.
“Thank you for letting me see the files,” she called over her shoulder and literally ran down the hall to the front doors.
Gasping, she shoved them open and hurried to her car, slid inside, and slammed the door shut behind her. Leaning her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes and drew in long cleansing breaths. When she ran shaking hands over her face, she discovered a fine sheen of perspiration had formed on her skin.
Taking another deep breath, she managed to get the key in the ignition and glanced up through the windshield. Cole Landry stood at the entrance to the building, watching her. A breeze dusted over the parking lot and lifted the edges of his dark hair. Even at this distance, the aura of sensuality he projected was obvious and the irrational fear coiled around her again.
Fear of what, Dana? That you don’t want him to touch you? Or that you do?
She managed to back out of the parking space without banging into anything, then pulled onto the street. She’d go home and lock herself in the house and manage to swallow some food. No jogging tonight. No exercises. No thinking of Cole Landry.
Especially no thinking about Cole Landry.
Hot tea with brandy, a steaming shower, and her warm, snuggly bathrobe—that’s what the doctor ordered. Once her nerves were back to normal, she’d sort through her notes from today and the articles she’d copied and try to get an outline started.
Focus. Focus on the project.
Chapter Seven
“The boss says we have to cool your fringe benefits for a while.”
