She is beautiful in the morning. Brogan walked out of his bathroom, staring at Ginny as she lay in his bed, the sheet barely covering her breasts, her sleepy smile greeting him.

“Hate that I have to go in early,” he said. “This would’ve been the perfect morning to make love again, the sun coming up.”

She stretched her arms toward the ceiling, the sheet slipping to her waist. “Well,” she tempted seductively, “are you sure you have to be at the pub so early?”

“We’ve got a delivery and it’s on the schedule for seven this morning,” he said, then shook his head, “but this does suck. You’ve got a late evening shift, don’t you?”

Ginny rolled to her side, propping her head on her hand as she stared at him, standing in the doorway, his jeans tight in all the right places, worn at the knees and crotch, his tight, Finn’s T-shirt molded to his muscular chest, and the tats down his arms—which she still needed to find time to ask him about. “Ugh, yes,” she confirmed, “and you’re right, it does suck when you’re standing there looking all lickable and I just want to lay in bed with you.”

He planted a knee in the bed, leaning down to capture her lips. “Lickable?” he muttered, as his mouth plundered hers.

For a few minutes, they forgot about work schedules, deliveries, and cases as their lips and tongues danced together. Pulling back regretfully, Brogan heard her little groan and grinned as he kissed her once more before standing.

“Be safe today, honey,” he said, a strange sense of worry filling him.

“Always,” she replied easily, throwing back the sheet, smiling as she watched his eyes drop from her face to her toes and back up her nude body.

“Damn, woman,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders and hauling her against his body, her front plastered to his as his lips latched on once more.

Laughing, she grabbed one of his t-shirts, jerking it over her head, and gave him a little push. “Off to work,” she said, “or I’ll never let you leave this room.”

“You comin’ here when your shift’s over?”

Nodding, she said, “Yeah, I’m off tomorrow and, since you managed to get Aiden to open tomorrow, we’ll have a nice morning at the beach.”

A minute later, in his truck, Brogan looked back toward his bungalow, seeing her wave as she stood at the door, MB circling her legs, and his heart pounded heavy with an unknown dread.

Both of them missed observing the man, lying past the dune, his binoculars now hanging about his neck as he slid down to the beach, completely out of sight.

* * *

With a final pat of MB, Ginny left Brogan’s house about an hour after he did, deciding to run by her house to water her plants. Opening her front door, she stepped inside, smiling as she always did when looking at her little house. Throwing open the blinds, she let the sunshine pour in as she looked over at her plants on the table near one of her windows. Walking into her kitchen, she started the coffee and then filled a pitcher with water and walked to the living room to take care of them. Leaning her hip against the table, she thought about her little house. Sweet. Nice. Comfortable. Small. Sighing, her mind wandered to Brogan’s bungalow. Definitely not as nice. And even smaller.

Wonder if cats eat houseplants? As soon as that thought ran through her mind she startled. Giving her head a little shake, she headed back to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.

Her backyard neighbor was in his yard trimming a tree as she took her coffee out on her little patio and waved to him before sitting down and putting her feet up on the other chair. Sucking in a deep breath, she knew where the thought had come from. So far, she and Brogan had bounced between her house and his. Hers was larger, more of a home, and in town so it was closer to their work. His was small, somewhat run-down, but was right on the water. She had a nice master bedroom and bath, but her bed was much smaller than his and if she bought a bigger bed, it would significantly cut down on the space of the room. She loved the loft space in her house, but admittedly, seeing Brogan in it caused her to giggle—he nearly whacked his head on the sloped ceiling.

Closing her eyes, she allowed the sun to warm her as her thoughts about Brogan flowed through her mind. Jolting awake, she heard her neighbor call out to someone and she blinked several times as her eyes re-adjusted to the light. Holding her hand over her forehead to shade her eyes, she watched as Saul ambled from his truck to the back windows of her neighbor’s house. He carried buckets and wipers, in preparation to begin cleaning, before climbing his short ladder.

She watched, her heart in her chest, as he wavered at the top. How old is Saul anyway? Jesus, he needs to hire more help so he’s not teetering at the top of ladders. She noticed her neighbor had finished his tree trimming and was hanging around the bottom of Saul’s ladder and she wondered where his new help was.

Twisting her neck back, she took an appraising look at her windows. Ugh, they could use a good washing. Wondering if Saul would be interested in the job, she rose from her chair and made her way over her small yard to the fence in the back. Waiting until he climbed down from his ladder, she called out, “Saul, where’s your new help?”

He turned, smiling as he waved. “He’s working another job. I trust him to work on his own now, since he’s followed me over the past couple weeks.”

“I was thinking about having you do my windows, but my house is small—”

“No job’s too small, Miss Ginny. We did the Masterson’s house a few weeks ago and it’s a small one.”

“Uh…” Ginny immediately forgot about her windows at the mention of the Masterson’s house. Her eyes jumped back to his ladder at the back of her neighbor’s house…right at a window…where the window washer would have a direct line of vision into the room.

“Uh, I’ll talk to you later.” Jogging back across her yard, she turned and asked, “Saul, what is the name of your helper and where is he working?”

“Ralph Nester. He’s a good worker. Got him over on Main Street doing two of the store fronts.”

With a wave, she moved through her sliding glass door and into her kitchen. Making her way into her bedroom, she headed to the shower. Letting the water sluice over her body, her mind continued to turn over the investigation. Ralph Nester had been with Saul washing windows at the Masterson’s house. He would have had a chance to see what was inside the rooms. If there had been renters there at the time, he might have seen something. Maybe got excited. Maybe went back to see what else he could see.

In a hurry now, she quickly dried off and pulled on her underwear. Stalking into her bedroom, she automatically glanced at the blinds, making sure they were closed. Pulling on her khakis and BPD navy polo, she bent to lace her boots. Gun belt and badge in place, she moved through the house to the living room, double checking the blinds in there before closing and locking her front door. Shaking her head at her paranoia, she nonetheless knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

Within a few minutes she made it to the station, walking in, finally getting more accustomed to seeing Mildred’s purple-tinted hair standing next to Mable’s blue-tinted hair.

“You’re in early,” Mildred said, her sharp eyes on Ginny.

“Had some research I wanted to do before my shift starts,” she explained, heading to one of the computer stations in the back. Firing up the computer, she looked up as Mitch walked into the workroom from his office.

He glanced at the clock on the wall in surprise and she explained, “I’m in early. Had something I wanted to check out.” Seeing the question in his eyes, she shrugged. “Nothing to report…just a hunch I’d like to check out.”

“It have anything to do with our assault case?”

Nodding, she said, “Yeah, but it’s just a thought. I figured I could do a little checking before my shift begins.”

“Fill me in as soon as you think you’re on to something,” he said before pouring a cup of coffee and heading back to his office.

She pulled up the initial information on Ralph Nester. Thirty years old. Lives outside of town in a small housing subdivision, government subsidized. She knew the area—clean, neat, little houses. He is single. No traffic violations. No prior as an adult. Sealed records from a charge as a minor. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

Standing, she walked into Mitch’s office. As always, when she stepped into his office, she was reminded of his familial history. When Ginny first came to Baytown, Mitch’s father, Ed, was the police chief. She liked working for him, but a year later a heart attack took him off the job and the town called to his son to take the reins. She was glad Mitch was ready to leave the FBI and return to his roots, even though the pay cut had been substantial. But before Ed, Mitch’s grandfather had been the longtime police chief. For a few seconds, she allowed her mind to slide over the fact that Mitch’s family had been glad to have him come home but they would have been just as proud if he continued to work for the FBI. He had that—family support and pride.

“You got something?”

Blinking out of her reverie, she said, “Still just checking something out. I’d like to clock on about twenty minutes early if you don’t mind.”

Nodding, he responded, “Got no problem with that. You wanna tell me what you’re checking on?”

“I saw Saul Hudgins earlier, washing windows on a neighbor’s house. I know he’s got a new man helping him, been working with Saul for several weeks and now working on his own, not having to be right with Saul. Anyway, Saul mentioned they did the windows at the Masterson’s house.” Shrugging, she said, “It’s a long shot, but I was just thinking that—”

“That it’d be a great way to check out houses, to see inside the different rooms, know where bedrooms might be,” he interjected, his eyes pinning hers.

“Yeah. I’ve checked him out, but nothing turned up on a preliminary computer search, other than a charge when he was a minor.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I know where he’s working today. It’s here in town. Thought I’d go by and talk a bit. See if I could find out more.”

“Need assistance?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Nah. Just talking to him right now. Nothing official. I’ll be fine.”

“Stay in contact,” he ordered.

His command was unnecessary, but she was not offended. Mitch took his duties seriously and, while she knew she had his complete confidence, he still wanted to make sure his officers were protected. With a nod, she left the office and headed out to the SUV.