Shane seemed lighter somehow as we left the shooting range. When I’d asked him why, he’d simply told me that next to working out, it was a surefire way to get rid of his frustrations when things got tough.

I completely understood him. I felt more focused, in control, and stronger somehow—and maybe even a little hot under the collar. Having Shane show me better positioning to hit my mark a little easier had seemed important, but with his body pressed against mine, his arms surrounding me as he guided my grip, my stance, it ended up feeling a little like foreplay. Apparently the loaded weapon in his pants thought so too as he’d pressed himself against my ass.

His, “You with a weapon, and knowing how to handle it, is fucking making me want to do things we definitely shouldn’t be doing right here,” comment, as we finished up by cleaning our respective guns, didn’t help my case but sure as hell solidified that he’d been feeling a little hot and bothered himself.

The looks I received from the front desk clerk at the station made me wish that I’d taken Shane up on his back door entry option. I didn’t need that last look in the mirror before leaving the Peters’ home to tell me that my eyes were black and blue, my nose was swollen and maroon, veering to purple-green in some areas. Add the crying I had done, while both Shane and I had poured our hearts out to each other, and I knew things looked even worse. Puffier.

“Ms. Roth?” An older man in uniform approached us. Shane’s hand squeezed mine in a reassuring manner that did nothing to calm my erratic heartbeat and the nausea churning in my stomach.

“Em, I’d like for you to meet Charles Dodge, my captain,” Shane introduced.

I looked between both men, and only when he let go of my hand with another reassuring squeeze and a nod to boot, did I put my hand forward to greet Shane’s boss.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.”

The man took a moment to size me up, a minuscule wince detectable when he got to my face.

“Trust me, the door did most of the damage over the man,” I mused.

Apparently neither man thought I was funny by the sound of their groans.

Do all cops sound the same?

“Let me show you to the room we’ll be taking your statement in.” Captain Dodge swept his arm past him, toward a hall to his left. “Due to information that has come to light in an ongoing investigation, I’ve recused myself from my role in our Criminal Investigations Division and am helping out with our folks in Crime Prevention for the time being.”

“Shouldn’t be for too long, boss,” Shane said, to which the man simply snorted.

“I can use a slight change of pace, Peters.” The man eyed his former subordinate from the corner of his eye. “I’m thinking after everything is said and done, I’m retiring.”

I didn’t miss the fact that the men seemed to be carrying a conversation that only they understood. I let them have it, despite my curiosity.

Reaching the tiny, clinical looking room, with not-so-white walls, I noticed three metal chairs and a small table that had seen better days. As we passed what must have been an observation window, Dodge stopped and gestured for us to precede him.

“Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink before we start?”

My throat had suddenly run dry as soon as the man had mentioned refreshments.

“W-water, please,” I croaked.

Nodding once, my soon-to-be interrogator disappeared around the edge of the doorway, leaving Shane and me alone.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as he pulled out a chair for me, then seated himself in the one next to me, grabbing my hand.

All I could do was nod.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart,” he tried to assure me.

Of course there was! Shane Peters was merely hanging on by a thread at this point, I was sure of it. First, we’d had our emotional blowout. Second, I’d regaled him with the little delivery I’d received at that shitty motel I’d spent the night at. He’d actually surprised me by keeping his cool, but I knew he was fuming on the inside. Shane had simply asked to see the latest of my ex’s deliveries, grabbed his cell and phoned it in to Dalton, also indicating to the man that he could call off the proverbial dogs from hunting me down. Dalton had only left him with one message for me: Devolin wanted me to call her within the next twenty-four hours. I’d promised Shane that I would. There was no way I’d want that woman on my ass.

“I know you’re not going to like what I have to say,” I explained, averting my gaze from Shane, instead having focused it on our hands laying intertwined on my lap.

“I might not,” he started, “in fact, I know I won’t, because we’ve already discussed this, but it doesn’t mean that you can skip this part, Em.” He tugged my hand to his mouth and buffed his lips over my knuckles. My eyes remained cast downward. “Would you rather I not be here when you give your statement?”

That made me look at him right quick. “Y-you’d do that?” He nodded, despite his discomfort with the idea clearly identifiable. This also served me with a reminder that the man led his life with transparency, truth, and full disclosure. He’d been an open book with me today.

I owed him the same.

Taking a deep breath, I kept my eyes locked on his. “No…” I cleared my throat. “No, I don’t want you to leave, Shane.”

His relief was palpable throughout the room.

“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Dodge broke us from our conversation, dropping three water bottles in the middle of the table before he took his seat across the table from us.

Son of a bitch!

The more Emberlyn recounted what had happened right outside her little cottage yesterday, the more incensed I became. It didn’t matter that I’d heard the story beforehand because as I did a second time, I was certain that Casen Dodge was indeed my man. DNA put him at the scene, and he’d come and warned my woman off; that was enough for me.

The fucker was playing with me, and he was close.

A simple look in the captain’s direction told me that he suspected as much as I had.

“Can you tell me anything about him, Emberlyn?” Dodge asked.

She shook her head. “He smelled of body odor and old sour alcohol.” Emberlyn closed her eyes. I recognized it as a gesture of effort to recreate the event—something many victims or relatives and friends of victims I’d interviewed in the past had done—and a ploy highly recommended by many psychologists and profilers in higher law enforcement agencies.

“Ember–”

Her body tensed and her hand grasped mine in a death grip, her nails dug into my palms.

“What?” I asked.

“He sounds just like you!” Her eyes snapped open and darted my way. I gave her a confused look. Casen sure as hell didn’t sound like me. “Not you, Shane,” she turned to face my captain, “you.”

Captain Dodge’s eyes met mine and I nodded, then the man proceeded to get to his feet, extending his hand toward Emberlyn. “Ms. Roth,” she reached out with a confused look, “I believe we have enough for the time being. If you can bear with me, I’ll get these notes typed up in a report and will be right back for you to review it all. Once you sign off on your statement, pending no corrections, I’ll let you get out of here.”

“O-okay,” she whispered.

“And a side note,” the older man paused at the door with a smirk on his face and a look of approval in Shane’s direction, “next time, should you find yourself here for another statement, make sure to clean off the stink of the range. We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

Half an hour later, Emberlyn had signed off on her statement.

We’d been in the car for all of five minutes when she said, “I want to help with your murder case.”

Her words were so sudden—not so unexpected because she’d voiced something about helping me when she’d come back this morning—that I stared at her, the car swerving violently.

“Shane, watch out!”

I corrected the car just as the driver of the vehicle in the oncoming lane laid onto his horn, pulling us back onto our side of the road.

“What the fuck, Em!”

“Please hear me out,” she begged.

“No,” I argued.

“Shane–”

“I said no, Em!” My words were loud and hard enough to make her jump back in her seat. A few seconds passed before I realized I had been a jerk again. “Em,” I started calmly.

Having gotten over her fearful reflex, she merely crossed her arms over her chest, jutted her chin out, and ignored me.

“Em,” I tried again.

Her face tilted to stare out the passenger side window as she continued to disregard me.

Fucking cute.

Discussion unresolved, the final ten minutes of our drive home was spent in silence, but her constant ignoring only had me smirking through the windshield as I kept forward to our destination.