Nick stood at the sliding glass door, peering between the plastic slats. He didn’t stir when I entered the room. My pulse slowed in disappointment.
I nearly slumped from how much of an idiot I was—that I’d expected him to be naked on the bed or something. A glance down provided some explanation. Oh. My. God. I hadn’t changed out of my dino-printed pajama bottoms. Since I hadn’t checked a mirror prior to going to the door, I figured my hair was a mess, too. I probably looked like an escaped crazy. Fitting considering I’d been crazy.
“We can’t talk in there.” Nick nodded toward the front of the apartment.. “He might be able to hear.”
I stared at Nick’s back, trying to work out if that was why he’d come into my bedroom. Speaking at a soft volume, I said, “He?”
“The not rookie.” He turned enough that he could see me. “So…‘Nathan’?”
My face steamed. “I forgot they were looking for you. I didn’t want to get in trouble for not calling the detective after I saw you yesterday.”
“Thought so.” Nick settled against the glass door, folding his arms across his white t-shirt and his left ankle over his right. The pose did naughty things for just about every muscle in his body. “Gonna say why you texted me?”
I fidgeted with the frayed edge of my black tank top and made myself hold his gaze rather than watch his package. “I already did. I couldn’t sleep.”
Nick’s beer-fueled smirk made a reappearance, reflecting in the mirror over the dresser beside him. “Couldn’t sleep so you invited a guy you don’t trust into your house?”
“Do we ever truly trust peo—”
“Yeah, stop.” He shook his head, giving me a small, glittering smile that didn’t bode well for whatever came next. “Not only did you invite me in, you also did it knowing I’d had three more beers. I won’t apologize for being a colossal asshole this time, Shelby.”
With the guy already in my bedroom, I realized the time for reconsideration had long past. Still, I tried to dominate the situation. “I can handle asshole tendencies so long as they’re just words.”
“What about asshole looks?” Nick did an open sweep of his eyes up and down my body, slowing at key points for little licks of his tongue over his lower lip. “Can you handle those?”
“Yes.” I winced at the airy sound of my voice.
He lifted a thumb and ran it along the spot he’d just moistened. “And asshole touches? How do you feel about those?”
I choked on a nervous laugh. “Do you mean touches by an asshole or to an asshole?”
His smirk broadened. “Are the answers different?”
Why had I asked that question?
Nick pushed off the glass, but came no closer. “The full truth this time, why did you text me?”
“I felt bad for you being outside all night.”
“That was a pity text?”
“And I was worried the mobster would show up and you’d hurt him and that the cop would catch the whole thing on his car cameras and then you’d have to hurt the cop and destroy the car all because you were here.”
His nostrils flared. “In all that rambling, you never worried anyone would hurt me?”
Though I scoffed for his benefit, I flushed warm because I had worried. “You got shot a week ago. But you seem fine.”
“I got shot in the shoulder and chest. If he’d got me in the head, I would have been far from fine.”
Two shots? Oh, damn. I’d forgotten the extra bang at the end because Nick had been turning furry by then.
I smacked my foot atop the other, balancing on one leg while I shrugged. “Well, that’s why I texted you.”
He let out a little huff and held out one hand. “Give me one of your pillows.”
I darted looks between him and my pillows. He made an impatient noise that pulled me fully into the room and toward the bed. I lifted the largely unused pillow off the right side and held it out to him. Nick shuffled forward and scrutinized my bed coverings.
What was he looking for?
He nudged my comforter. “Got an extra blanket?”
Oh .
“Yes. Sure.” Halfway to the linen closet in the hall I had an idea. “I can put some sheets on the sofa if you like.”
“I’d rather be near that glass door.”
Because that’s where the mafia guys would go first?
I said, “I could sleep on the sofa and—”
“The floor is fine. I sleep on worse a few times a month.”
There was a tale there, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask. Carrying a quilt, blanket, and an extra pillow, I returned to the bedroom to discover Nick stretched out on the floor along the sliding glass door with his head at the base of my dresser. He’d smooshed the pillow beneath him and tossed an arm over his eyes. I hesitated for a pair of seconds before getting up the courage to cross the room. He didn’t stir when I set the bedding on the floor.
“There’s another pillow there. You’re sure you—”
“I’m sure.”
I pinched my lips to keep from grumbling that he didn’t know what I was going to ask. Clearly he didn’t want to talk anymore. I shuffled to bed, sliding under the covers.
He’d better fall asleep soon. Because until he did, I wouldn’t.
By an unspoken, mutually agreed decision, Nick and I got up at six thirty. I put on coffee and toast. Then while he ate and drank, I showered.
I hadn’t slept. That made me grumpy. The reason I hadn’t slept wasn’t that I’d had an admitted killer on the floor feet away. I hadn’t because the aforementioned admitted killer had been on the floor and hadn’t tried anything. After his behavior in the bar the previous night, I’d expected something.
If Nick had snoozed, he hadn’t made much noise doing it. My only consolation was he seemed just as red-eyed and irritated as me. He left me two pieces of toast and just enough coffee to make one cup. I’d polished off both while he took a turn in my shower.
Wordlessly he walked me to my car at a quarter after seven. I pulled out of my usual parking spot, waving at the cop on duty as he put his car into reverse. Nick stood beside his Honda, watching us go.
What would he do next? I assumed he’d continue watching the crime boss. But…didn’t he have a job? Or did guys who turned into wild animals automatically become independently wealthy?
With enough work to keep my mind off crime bosses and wild animals, I didn’t have time to consider texting Nick. At least, I didn’t have time to consider it more than twice.
That changed when I reached the office building garage after a full day of work and nine hours of radio silence from Nick. I sat behind the wheel with my phone cradled in both hands, staring at the messages from last night. An engine firing up nearby snatched my attention. I checked the rearview mirror, noting the headlights on my police escort. He must be impatient tonight. Guess it was time to go.
I didn’t remember the drive to the apartment, but twenty minutes later I was in my usual parking spot. There were no yellow Hondas waiting for me. Just like there’d been no text messages. I checked my mailbox like any other day, groaned at the stack of bills, and then went inside to figure out something for dinner. All normal tasks I should have been glad to get back to after my string of abnormal days. But I wasn’t glad, and hell if I understood why.
I’d just pulled out a frozen chicken breast when my phone rang. Heart skipping, I snatched up the device, and then sighed. The screen flashed the name Detective Davis.
“Detective.” I straightened my spine, fearing the worst. They fixed their video issue and knew I lied. Or last night’s cop had recognized Nick. Worse…they’d found Nick, dead from a bullet to the head.
“Shelby, how are you?” Voice rapid, Davis sounded like he was on a deadline rather than preparing to give me bad news.
I figured he didn’t really want the answer. “Monday is over,” I said anyway, “so I’m better than I was ten hours ago.”
“Good. I know this is short notice, but do you think you could come to the precinct to do another photo lineup tonight?”
“I was just about to make dinner. When were you needing me there?”
“As soon as you can. I’ll order a pizza. Does that work?”
I gave myself a little shake, surprised he’d offer food. He had offered food, hadn’t he?
“Yes, sure,” I said.
“Pepperoni good?”
“Yes, that’s great.”
“Ordering now. See you soon.”
He clicked off, leaving me a little surprised. If I’d known I could get pizza out of the deal, I’d have complained about him cutting into my dinner plans for his line-ups sooner.
I slipped my bare feet into my comfier flats and headed out the door. The cop on duty was the rookie. Giving him a small salute, I hopped in my car and took my time, enjoying the tunes so I wouldn’t beat the pizza guy. I parked at the station as the delivery car pulled away from the curb.
Davis met me at the front and led me back to an interview room where pizza awaited. He let me chew through a piece before he called for a colleague to bring today’s photographs. I wiped my lips and wondered if the pizza had been him buttering me up. His bosses had to be rabid for a conviction. Four officers had been killed and the only person who could help was lying through her teeth.
Davis excused himself as he had each time before—something about how if he conducted the lineup, he’d give cues I’d pick up on. The man who had helped previously entered, smiling at me. I didn’t remember his name, and his badge wasn’t where I could see it. He ran through the instructions, telling me the person of interest might not be in the six photographs he was about to show me.
Opening his folder, he pulled out a page without letting me see any others. “Is this the person who was in the police car with you on the night of the thirty-first?”
The handsome Asian man scowling from the paper would be someone Karen would go gaga for, but he wasn’t Nick. I shook my head. “No.”
The officer flipped the photo over, pulling out a second one. “Is this the person who was in the police car with you on the night of the thirty-first?”
This handsome Asian man had a slight smirk that made me purse my lip as I recalled Nick’s arrogance last night. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The officer perked up. I flushed pink, knowing he’d taken my motion as a sign they were on the right track.
“Maybe,” I said.
Calmly, he said, “Yes. No. Or not sure?”
“Not sure.”
He flipped the page and set it aside. Out came another paper. The man in the picture wasn’t handsome with a rodent-like face.
I shook my head. “No.”
That photograph went in what I assumed was the no pile. He reached into the folder and lifted the next one. One quick flip had it facing me.
Dark eyes glimmered from the printed sheet but the half smirk looked as if the image had been snapped after a single beer. I sucked in a shocked breath, almost smelling pear from the paper.
Nick . It was Nick.
The tendons in my neck went taut, and my nails dug into my jeans.
“Is this the person?” the officer asked, pitch higher and voice breathier as he leaned toward me.
He’d seen my reaction. He already knew. And they had this on tape. Anyone who saw the video footage would know the truth. I couldn’t lie. Not any longer. Damn it.
“Yes,” I said barely above a whisper, silently apologizing to Nick.
The officer sat back. “Is this the person who was in the police car with you on the night of the thirty-first?”
A breath stuttered through my lips. “Yes.”
“Is this the man named Nick?”
Biting my tongue, quite literally, I took a beat for my snarky reply to fade out of my mind. “Yes, that’s Nick.”
“Thank you,” the officer said. “Are you ready for the next set of photographs?”
No . Nuh uhhh.
Drawing a small breath, I nodded.
The officer produced a new sheet of paper with a photograph of a greasy looking, dark-haired guy with a permanent scowl. His build and general shape could have been the gunman. I wasn’t sure since I hadn’t really seen the gunman.
“Not sure,” I said.
He exchanged that image for another. Yet another greasy man, this one sporting a gold chain and chest hair, had me giving the same answer. The third image sported a man with a scar over his right eye and bright teeth. I had a flicker of recognition but didn’t think it had been from Greg’s party, so I shook my head. Picture after picture showed similar men, none of which I could identify as being the gunman or not being the gunman.
“I’m sorry,” I said after he turned the last image face down. “I didn’t see much of him.”
“It’s fine. I’ll get Detective Davis.” He gathered the photographs and his folder, and then closed the door behind him.
I might not have recognized the gunman, but I’d given them Nick. My stomach rolled, and I seriously regretted the pizza. The smell lingering in the room left me feeling nauseous. Or maybe that was my fear of what was to come. Was the door locked?
Yeah, because escaping and going home would be the smart thing to do.
Davis appeared in the door’s small window, speaking with someone outside before he opened the door. He entered with a smile still on his face from the encounter in the corridor.
“So that’s Nick.” Davis dropped the photograph on the table and sat. “Yes?”
I nodded.
Watching my face, he flipped open his own folder. “Could you go over your statement one more time before you leave?”
Did they have Nick already? Is that why the photograph looked as if it had been taken in this very room? If they had him, that meant he’d told his version of the events. So what had he told them?
I coughed and ran my clammy hands over my sleeves. “At my coworker Greg’s party I was handcuffed and put into a police cruiser. I don’t know why. Nick was in the car, too. I think because we’d had some alcohol. After the big police truck showed up and the officers went inside, a guy walked up to the police cruiser outside. Nick told me to get down. The guy shot at Nick. I think he got him,” I said, changing my original statement in which I’d said Nick had been shot. “He seemed like he was in pain. The man went around the car and fired his gun five more times closer to Greg’s house. I didn’t see what he shot at because I was hiding. The guy shot into the car again. I don’t know if he got Nick. Nick still seemed like he was in pain. And then he just…he like, freaked out. He somehow tore through the door. Adrenaline, I think. He ran off. I didn’t see which way he went, but I heard shouting in the opposite direction from Greg’s house. There were two more, distant gunshots in that direction. A little while later my coworker opened the car door and let me out. We all went back in the house and called 9-1-1.”
Davis tapped his pencil on the pages in front of him. “Was Nick shot?”
Trying not to fidget, I said, “I don’t know. I thought maybe, but it all happened so fast.”
He used his fingers to underline a section of typed words. “Originally you said he’d been bleeding from his shoulder.”
“It was dark,” I said, head searing because I’d been caught in the lie. “I don’t really know what I saw.”
Davis lifted his head and scrutinized my face. “You were able to do a detailed sketch of Nick.”
“That’s because I’d met him in the party before we were brought outside to the car.”
“Why do you think Nick told you to get down before the gunman shot into the car?”
This was a question I’d already answered. I hoped I was able to get close to my original response. “I think Nick spotted him outside, maybe in the flashing lights and he saw the weapon.”
“Why do you think he told you to get down but didn’t get down himself?”
Given how quickly his wound had healed, I had to assume Nick had meant to hide me by being the bigger and seemingly only target.
“I don’t know,” I said aloud. “Maybe he was trying to protect me?”
“A woman he’d just met? That’s heroic.” Davis eyed me. “And then he ran off, leaving you alone. That wasn’t very heroic.”
I nodded but only because I didn’t want him thinking Nick had tried to be a hero after he’d run off. “It was weird.”
“Do you remember any other details about that night, the gunman, or Nick?”
Shrugging, I said, “Other than the photograph the other officer showed me is Nick? No.”
The detective watched me for several beats, and then nodded. “We’ve had a development. Remains were found in the woods near Greg’s place. The lab ran the blood against our DNA database and teeth against dental records. We matched an individual that another witness has identified as the gunman.” He pulled out the photograph of the first greasy man. “This was who they identified. Do you recognize him?”
I shook my head. “No. It was dark. I didn’t really see him.”
Davis nodded.
“Does that mean I’m safe?”
“We don’t know for sure this is the gunman, so we’ll leave a plain clothes officer to watch you.”
In other words, they wanted to see if someone would come and finish the job the other guy hadn’t.
I couldn’t help but ask. “If you think you’ve identified who did it, do you have any idea why they did it?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation.” Davis got to his feet. “Thank you, Shelby. You’ve been a big help. Have some more pizza before you go.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but decided if I looked as ill as I felt, Davis would know I’d withheld information. So I took a piece of pizza and wrapped it in a napkin for the road.
Davis walked me out. He got in front of the exit, blocking the way. Getting closer than I was comfortable with, Davis leaned in and spoke quietly. “Let us know if you plan to leave town.”
I couldn’t stop my eyebrows from shooting up. Still?
Great. Just great.