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  Cause of death, sharp force trauma. Her source in the medical examiner’s office had been brief and clinical, and Bailey’s mind had filled in the gaps. Bailey hated knives, and the mere thought of coming face-to-face with a blade-wielding assailant made her queasy.

  Her phone chimed, and she pulled it from the back pocket of her jeans. Jacob. For some reason just seeing his name calmed her nerves a bit.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Are you still at your office?”

  “I’m working from home today. Why?”

  “We need to talk.”

  He paused. Bailey waited for him to suggest something, but he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to invite himself over. Too personal.

  “Do you know Eli’s?” she asked him.

  “No.”

  “It’s just west of campus, right by the Stop-N-Save.” She wondered if she was making a mistake sending him to her favorite hangout.

  “Pearl Street,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in twenty.”

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  JACOB FOUND HER in a candlelit booth in back with a laptop computer in front of her and a glass of red wine at her elbow. For a moment, he just looked at her. She wore a loose pink top over a black sports bra, and her hair was up in another messy bun. Her bare arms were tan and toned, and after seeing her at the lake that morning, he understood why.

  She glanced up, putting an end to his gawking as he walked over.

  “Any trouble parking?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  He slid into the booth, and a waitress stepped over.

  “Something to drink?”

  “Shiner Bock. Draft if you have it.”

  “You got it.”

  The waitress walked off, and he looked Bailey over. She had a coy expression on her face now.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You changed.” She sipped her wine. “So, I take it you’re off for the night?”

  “Barring any emergencies.”

  She closed her laptop and zipped it into the bag on the seat beside her. She rested her arms on the table and looked at him, and her gray eyes looked smoky in the dim light.

  “I never met a reporter who wrote in a pub,” he said.

  “I come here when my apartment’s noisy.”

  “Why is your apartment noisy?”

  “It’s near campus.” She rolled her eyes. “Not far from some of the frat houses. You know the red-brick walkup with the giant weeping willow in front?”

  “Right down from Hud’s Hamburgers?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “That place is retro.”

  The waitress stopped by to drop off his beer. When she was gone, Bailey lifted her wineglass.

  “Salud,” she said.

  He clinked glasses with her and took a sip.

  “If by retro you mean they haven’t painted since 1985, you’re right on.”

  He smiled. “Why do you live there?”

  “I moved in my senior year. Then my roommate left, but by then I was kind of attached.” She shrugged. “It’s a good location. Walking distance to cheap food, shopping, parks.”

  So, she’d gone to UT. Jacob had been meaning to check her background, but the investigation had sucked up every minute of his time.

  “Also, the landlord made an exception for my cat when he changed the pet policy, so that was nice of him.”

  Jacob smiled. “That’s some loyalty you’ve got there.”

  “I’ll move at some point, but right now it just seems like a hassle.” She tucked a dark curl behind her ear. “What about you? Where do you live?”

  “South of the lake,” he said. “I’m rehabbing a place in Travis Heights.”

  “You’re doing it yourself?”

  “When I have the time. Which isn’t much lately.”

  “Sounds like a big project.”

  “Bigger than I thought when I bought it.”

  She sipped her wine and set the glass down, and the candlelight picked up the lip print on the rim. She was wearing pale pink lip gloss, and he was reminded of the pair of wineglasses in Dana Smith’s apartment. Would the FBI’s forensics team bag them up and test them? Jacob didn’t know, and even if they did, he’d probably never see the results. As of two this afternoon, Richard Mullins was taking over his case, exactly as Morgan had predicted.

  Jacob stifled a sigh and downed another sip of beer. He’d had a shitty afternoon, and the argument with his lieutenant hadn’t helped. He’d flat-out rejected Jacob’s request to be in on the task force and wouldn’t even run the idea up the chain. His department was more than happy to be rid of a complicated case that could bring negative publicity. They’d handed it over without even putting up a fight.

  But Jacob wasn’t done trying yet. Not by a long shot.

  “You look frustrated,” Bailey said.

  “Long day.”

  “Care to share? I’m a good listener.”

  His gaze locked on hers, and he felt tempted to tell her. He couldn’t, obviously, because she was a reporter. But it would have been nice to vent, even though she was the last person he should open up with about any of this.

  The waitress reappeared, this time with a pizza.

  “Veggie supreme, extra jalapeños?”

  “Thanks.”

  She set down the pizza, along with a pair of plates and a stack of napkins. Bailey slid one of the plates in front of Jacob.

  He shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  “Oh, come on. I can’t eat this by myself.” She picked up a slice, dropping mushrooms and peppers as she stretched the cheese. She took a small bite, and he watched her mouth as she chewed.

  “So, Bailey.”

  “Uh-oh.” She dabbed her lip with a napkin. “That’s your cop voice. Let me get out my notepad.”

  “This is off the record. I want to talk about the case.”

  She leaned back against the booth. “Here we go.”

  “What?”

  “The old bait-and-switch. Ask me to meet you, and then tell me I can’t use anything you say.”

  “You can use it,” he said. “Just don’t quote me. This is on background.”

  “Okay.” She leaned her elbows on the table, and her gray eyes turned serious. “What’s up?”

  “You got the ID.”

  “We did,” she said.

  “I assume you’re running it in a story tomorrow?”

  “Given that the local networks have been running it since five o’clock, you assumed right. We also confirmed it was a stabbing.”

  “Where’d you confirm that?”

  She smiled. “You’re not asking me to reveal my sources, are you?”

  He sighed. “What else do you have?”

  “Some stuff about park safety. I heard your investigators are going over surveillance footage from the parking lots near the trail.”

  “You have a source in the department?”

  She sipped her wine but didn’t comment. Jacob wanted to know, and not just because he was curious about where she was getting her information. He wanted to find out if she’d heard about the FBI’s involvement. Only a few people knew about it, but if the public became aware, it would be much harder to keep control of the story.

  She dropped the crust on her plate and dusted her hands. “You know those aren’t the only cameras, right?”

  “Which ones?” he asked.

  “The parking lot cams. There are also some at the nature center and the boathouse.”

  Jacob lifted an eyebrow.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “I knew about the nature center. The boathouse is news.”

  “They installed one several months ago after
some kayaks got stolen. It faces the boat racks, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it captures footage of the trail as well.”

  “I’ll look into it. Thanks.”

  She shot him a look. “No problem.”

  “Anything else coming out tomorrow?”

  “That’s more or less it,” she said. “It’s pretty thin, to be honest with you. I’m working on more for Wednesday.”

  “What happens Wednesday?”

  “My editor wants a profile of the victim.”

  He frowned. “He wants you to profile Dana Smith?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I wasn’t aware.”

  “Well, what did you expect? A young woman was stabbed to death at the city’s most popular park. People are riveted by this thing.”

  “What do you have on her?”

  “Not a lot.” She took another bite of pizza and chewed thoughtfully. “She’s not registered at any of the colleges, but I haven’t been able to track down much. What do you know about her?”

  “Not nearly enough.”

  “Is it looking like a random act of violence or—”

  “We don’t know yet.”

  It came out sharper than intended, and she gave him a suspicious look.

  “Why do I get the impression there’s something big you’re not telling me?”

  “I can’t give details of an ongoing investigation. That’s standard.” He picked up the slice of pizza and chomped into it, and his mouth was instantly on fire from the jalapeños. He gulped his beer as Bailey watched him with a peeved look.

  “Is there anything you can tell me that might be useful?” she asked.

  “So far, no eyewitnesses. I’m hoping you’ll give me a heads-up if you come across anyone.”

  “I will.”

  “And no murder weapon.”

  “You don’t really expect to find one with the lake right there, do you?”

  “You never know.”

  Bailey sighed. “This is frustrating. I mean, who was this woman? And what was this murder about? All I’ve got are bits and pieces, but no big picture.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  Jacob felt guilty now for holding so much back. Which didn’t make sense. Of course he couldn’t tell a reporter everything he knew. But he wasn’t exactly helping her here. Everything he’d given her he was pretty sure she’d already known anyway.

  He picked up his beer. “So, how’d you get into rowing?”

  “Nice change of subject,” she said dryly.

  “I’m interested.”

  She smiled. “No, you’re not.”

  “I am.”

  She sighed and pushed her plate away, as if she was willing to play along. “I grew up in Corpus. My dad loves boats and he taught me and my sisters how to sail when we were kids. We had this big catamaran that he kept at a marina on Laguna Madre.” She smiled. “Actually, it wasn’t that big, but to me it seemed huge. He named it the Mary Alice after my mom.”

  “Your family still there?”

  “Not anymore. My parents retired to Padre Island.” She twisted her wineglass. “My dad’s got RA now. Rheumatoid arthritis. He doesn’t sail anymore, but they still love being on the coast. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  He nodded. “I’ve spent some time on the island. Good fishing.”

  “So I hear.” She shrugged. “I’ve never had the patience for fishing. The beaches are nice, though. I love the dunes.”

  He watched her in the candlelight. Her cheeks looked pink and she seemed more relaxed now that they weren’t talking about work. He wished—again—that he’d met her under different circumstances. He could be on a date with her right now instead of sitting here trying to manipulate her into revealing her sources.

  She smiled. “What’s that look?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You know, I used to go out with one of your colleagues.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He’d heard, but he hadn’t expected her to bring it up.

  “You know Skip Shepherd?”

  “Not well.”

  Jacob knew him well enough to question her tastes in men. Shepherd was closer to Bailey’s age—probably twenty-eight. He was smart and ambitious, but he was also an ass. Jacob couldn’t see Bailey putting up with him.

  Jacob’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket to check it. It was Kendra, so he let it go to voice mail. If it was urgent, she’d text him.

  Bailey watched him put the phone away. “Anything important?”

  “It can wait. What happened with Shepherd?” Jacob wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but she’d brought it up, so maybe she wanted to tell him.

  “You know, the usual. Compatibility issues.”

  “That covers a lot of ground.”

  “Yep.”

  Bailey gave him a long, steady look, and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she warning him off, in some way?

  Jacob didn’t need to be here, and they both knew it. All of his questions about the case could have been asked over the phone, and yet here he was, seeking her out after work again. He liked being around her, liked talking to her. He liked looking at her across the scarred wooden table. He watched her trace the stem of her wineglass with her finger, and his pulse thrummed in a way he’d almost forgotten about. The candlelight flickered in her eyes as she looked at him, and he knew it wasn’t one-sided. She felt the attraction, too.

  The waitress dropped off the check, breaking the mood, which was probably for the better.

  “I should get home,” Bailey said.

  She let him split the bill with her, and they walked out into the humid night air. The sidewalks were wet again, and he realized it had rained while they’d been inside. Jacob’s truck was parked right out front.

  “You walk or drive?” he asked.

  “I walked.”

  “Can I give you a ride?” He popped the locks.

  “It’s only four blocks.”

  “And you’ve got a computer with you.”

  She surprised him by not arguing. Instead, she reached for the passenger door and climbed into his truck. He closed the door for her and went around the front. As he slid behind the wheel, she was looking around with blatant curiosity.

  “Pretty clean for a cop.”

  He started the engine and pulled out. “What’d you expect?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. All the stereotypes. Fast-food wrappers. Half-eaten doughnuts.” She picked up the APD hang tag from the cup holder. “Damn, I’d kill for one of these things. You know how many tickets I rack up?”

  He drove the short distance to her building, and an SUV was leaving just as he pulled up.

  “Well, that never happens,” she said.

  Jacob pulled into the space and parked, then turned to look at her. She held his gaze, and the air between them felt charged suddenly. Every time she looked at him with those cool gray eyes, Jacob’s pulse kicked up a notch.

  She turned and glanced out the window. The door to one of the third-floor apartments stood open, and someone’s party had spilled onto the breezeway.

  She sighed. “My lovely neighbors.”

  “Want me to walk you up?”

  “No.”

  It was a firm no, as if he’d been angling for an invitation inside.

  Maybe he had.

  Her eyes locked with his, and the silence stretched out. “I’m glad you called,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he felt a surge of lust. Who was he kidding? He wanted her to invite him in. He wanted to kiss her right now and find out how she tasted. He’d been thinking about it for days.

  She leaned in and kissed him, shocking the hell out of him. Her mouth was warm and soft, and she rested her fingers on the side of hi
s neck. Jacob slid his arms around her and pulled her closer.

  He coaxed her mouth open, and she tangled her tongue with his as he leaned over the console and slid his hands over her hips. He wanted her in his lap. She seemed to want that, too, and she eased closer, hitching herself onto the console as she combed her fingers into his hair, and her nails bit into his scalp. She tasted amazing. Her mouth was hot and eager, and he wanted more. He slid his hand up to cup her breast through her shirt, and she arched against his palm. Her soft moan sent another shot of lust through him, and he pulled her even closer.

  Jacob’s phone buzzed, and she jerked back. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked as surprised as he felt. She slid back into her seat.

  The phone buzzed again, and he bit back a curse as he took it from his pocket. “Sorry.”

  “Better get that.” She reached for the door handle.

  “Wait.”

  “No, it’s fine. I should go.” She smiled and pushed open the door. “Good night, Jacob.”

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  I KNEW IT.”

  Jacob glanced up from his work to see Kendra standing in the doorway.

  “What?”

  “You’re hiding out down here.” She stepped into the windowless room known as Cold Storage. Metal filing cabinets packed with cold case files lined the walls, leaving barely enough room for a desk and chair.

  Kendra pulled the door shut behind her. She had a roll of evidence tape in her hand and a folder tucked under her arm.

  “You’re still working the Dana Smith case, aren’t you?” she demanded.

  Jacob looked up from his computer. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I haven’t seen you all morning.”

  “Yes, I’m still working it.”

  “Good. Me too.” She dropped the folder on the desk, along with the tape roll.

  “What’s in the file?” he asked.

  “Copies of the police reports. I made them yesterday before Mullins carted everything off. And my notes from the Camden interview.” She glanced behind her, probably for a chair.

  “Behind the cabinet by the door,” he said.