She wondered what thoughts crossed that clever mind of his. “Mac?” she repeated.
Remembering their last encounter, when Mac reached out, she backed up. “No.”
Responding to body heat or instinct or pure luck, he clamped his hands around her shoulders and kept her in place. A fourth expression altered the contours of his face. The man was tucking away his pride.
Curious, yet disheartened at the same time, Julia held still as he trailed his fingers down the sleeve of her cotton sweater to the crook of her elbow. He held on and circled around her. She realized his intent when he aligned himself behind her left shoulder.
“Take me to the living room.”
Considering his aversion to any kind of help from her thus far, this display of trust surprised her. “You sure?”
“Internal Affairs never pays a social visit. I’d better find out what they want and send them on their way.”
“That sounds comforting.” With a shade of sarcasm coloring her voice, she covered her hand with his. She held off reminding him how his less than pleasant demeanor had been more than enough to chase away several people. These two cops shouldn’t be a problem. She led him on a straight path down through the dining room, without once allowing him to bump into anything.
The two detectives exchanged curious glances as they entered the living room.
“Recliner or sofa?” she asked, ready to forge a path to either seat.
Mac straightened behind her, standing almost a head taller than she, as if he could sense the surprised scrutiny of Niederhaus and Masterson. “I’ll stand. You boys never see a blind man before?”
Niederhaus seemed genuinely surprised to see the extent of Mac’s handicap. “We heard you were in the explosion that killed Jeff Ringlein.”
Mac’s grip tightened around her arm, betraying a tension that put her on guard. Was he about to bolt? Should she get rid of these two men?
But Mac patted her hand, and sounded perfectly at ease when he answered. “I was there, all right. What can I do for you?”
Amazed at the transition from hotheaded patient to cool-under-pressure cop, Julia disengaged herself from Mac. “Would you gentlemen like some coffee?”
Eli Masterson smiled and dismissed her at the same time. “Thank you. Black, please.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” said his partner.
Fine. Man talk. With her skin still tingling where Mac had held her, she could use some time to herself in the kitchen to regroup. She only hoped Mac was up to an interrogation. She couldn’t tell what the sudden change in his behavior meant. Was this a cover? Or was the Mac she’d known from the old days in the neighborhood finally showing himself?
Julia searched the cabinets, locating a tray and three matching mugs while the coffee brewed. With Sergeant Niederhaus’s booming voice, she couldn’t help but hear snatches of conversation from the living room.
“We believe Ringlein may have been involved in something illegal. Did you suspect anything? Is that why you were there that night?”
“Jeff may not have been the most skilled technician, but he was loyal.” Mac’s voice reflected a calm detachment that had been absent from her encounters with him. “I can’t see him being a part of what you’re suggesting.”
Julia tuned out the conversation and looked about for a snack to serve with the coffee. It might be a way to sneak some food into Mac’s stomach and rebuild his strength.
“Did he say anything to you that would indicate he was suicidal?” That sensitive-as-nails question came from Niederhaus.
“He wasn’t suicidal. He was in trouble. He mentioned that someone had threatened his wife.”
“Who?”
Julia put grocery shopping high on her list, right behind cleaning. The only suitable food she found to serve with the coffee was a box of stale doughnuts. The stereotype of serving doughnuts to cops didn’t bother her as much as the crusty shells that had hardened around the sugary confections.
Caught between the choices of serving old doughnuts or making sandwiches, Julia stuck her head into the living room, intending to ask Mac which he preferred. But she pressed her lips together and said nothing. Like the coffee, her temper brewed at what she saw.
Mac had perched on the edge of the recliner while Sergeant Niederhaus pressed him for information from his spot on the couch. Eli Masterson, it seemed, had little interest in the interview. He circled the room on silent feet, his head tilted at an intent angle to lift and study photographs, and thumb his way through the books and CDs behind Mac.
How dare he take advantage of Mac’s handicap by sneaking around like that! Julia cleared her throat and garnered the attention of all three men. But her focus was on Eli. “Don’t you need to have a search warrant?”
“Excuse me?”
Julia’s take-charge voice kicked in. “Can I help you find something?”
He shrugged his shoulders like he’d done nothing wrong. “I was looking for the restroom.”
Behind the bookshelf? Though she didn’t believe his quick response, she pointed him in the right direction. “Down the hall. On your left.”
She watched him to be sure he reached his destination, then glanced back at Mac. Had he even realized Detective Masterson was snooping around the living room?
Just who was under investigation here, anyway?
Joe Niederhaus rolled to his feet, leaving Mac staring at the place where he’d been sitting. “Your deposition claimed Ringlein set fire to the lab himself. Do you think he was trying to eliminate you?”
Mac tipped his head to the sound of Niederhaus’s voice, then stood when he realized his inquisitor had done the same. “What are you getting at?”
The toilet flushed in the back of the house, and Niederhaus shrugged, seeming to lose interest in his questions all of a sudden. He smiled for the first time. “Don’t get in a sweat. Whenever an officer dies, it’s I.A.’s job to check it out. Rule out any criminal activity.”
“You should check into his wife’s safety.”
Eli returned to the living room, his quiet voice approaching Mac from behind. “You believe that claim?”
Startled by the second officer’s approach, Mac turned himself sideways, shifting on the balls of his feet as if he felt penned in by the two men. “It was one of the last things he said.”
“What was the last thing he said?” Niederhaus’s question sounded like a taunt. Judging by the defensive angle of Mac’s shoulders, he heard it the same way, too.
Julia knew little about police investigations, even less about male posturing. But she was an ace when it came to protecting her patients.
She joined Mac in the center of the room, changing the unsettling topic of conversation and giving Mac an ally to face off against the two investigators. She put on her best innocent expression and smiled like a diplomat. “I know it’s early in the day, but I thought I’d see if you wanted sandwiches with your coffee?”
Niederhaus looked at Julia as if really seeing her for the first time. He made a noise that was half laugh, half grunt, and shook his head. “We need to be going.”
A few defensive instincts of her own made Julia turn to keep Detective Masterson in her sights. “It wouldn’t take me a minute,” she offered.
“Thanks, anyway.” Eli crossed the room to join Niederhaus at the door. Side by side in the small living room, the two men formed an opposing front.
But they wore badges. That made them the good guys, right? So why did she feel the need to take a step back toward Mac?
Her