his soul. “Let’s get out of here and get something to eat.”
“That sounds great about now, but I don’t want you to get into any trouble because of me. Does your department have any idea you’re spending so much time with me?”
Sean clutched the back of his neck to knead his tense muscles. In all the worry about Elise and the drama over Dr. Patrick’s death, he’d almost forgotten the meeting this afternoon. “That’s not going to be a problem.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s not going to be a problem because I’m no longer on the case. It’s happening again, Elise.”
* * *
ELISE STEPPED BACK and placed a hand on her car. “Your department took you off the case? Why?”
“The captain thinks I’m too personally involved.” He held up one finger. “And before you get started, it has nothing to do with you.”
“It was that reporter’s story, wasn’t it? Dragging up the past.”
He shrugged. “Like I said before, he has a right to report whatever he wants as long as it’s the truth—and he told the truth. The department overreacted.”
“Sean, what did you mean when you said it was happening again? They don’t suspect you of anything, do they?”
“I just meant—” he dug his keys out of his pocket “—they’re punishing me because some killer decided to communicate with me. That’s how it started with my dad, too.”
“Well, it’s not going to end the same way.”
He reached forward and tugged a lock of her damp hair. “Why are we standing out here in this fog? Follow me back to my place and I’ll make some dinner. It’s just outside the city, if you don’t mind.”
“Perfect. I want to get out of the city right now, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble. Let me pick up the food this time.”
She’d clicked her remote and he opened the car door for her. “I actually have a couple of steaks in the freezer I’ve been meaning to cook for a while.”
“Then I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“Stay right behind me and I’ll keep my eye on you, but just in case.” He printed out his address on a piece of paper and slipped it into her hand. He shut her door and smacked the roof of the car.
Keeping her gaze pinned to the taillights of his car had the same effect on her as watching him in her rearview mirror—a feeling of safety. After Dr. Patrick died in her arms and the ambulance arrived and the police came, she hadn’t felt safe until she’d seen Sean striding across the street, his gait fueled by fury. His fury fueled by fear.
He cared about her. Whether his concern extended beyond feelings of protectiveness, she didn’t know. Did it matter right now? She needed his strength and he needed hers, too.
He’d been fighting his demons for far too long by himself. He obviously didn’t want to burden his brothers. He had no one right now to confide in, and she knew how that felt.
When the expectations of her small-town life began to close around her, she didn’t know where to turn. So she’d gone through the motions, treading the path that had been laid out for her.
When her maid of honor had dangled the gift of Ty’s infidelity in front of her, she’d snatched it. She knew once she became that runaway bride, there was no going back.
Maybe Sean needed something to hold on to, something to pull him out of his misery. He must’ve turned a corner when he got that tattoo. Now she’d been put here to help him turn another corner.
She followed him closely on the bumper-to-bumper freeway until he put his turn signal on and crawled onto an off-ramp. As she rolled to a stop behind him at the red light, she tapped the display of her phone to call Courtney.
“Hi, Elise. Are you calling because you’re going to be late? Because I’m not even home yet.”
“I’m going out to dinner, or rather having dinner at a friend’s place.”
“Turns out I’m going out, too. I’m finally getting together with the guy I met at the Speakeasy.”
A shiver ran through Elise. Courtney should be more careful. “What do you know about this guy, Courtney?”
“Uh, he’s an investment banker and he’s hot.”
Elise grimaced. Her experiences over the past few days had made her more street savvy than she’d wanted to be.
“Are you at home yet?”
“No. New client’s keeping me busy. Have fun and be careful.”
Elise pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to tell Courtney about her latest mishap. “You, too.”
Ahead of her, Sean’s right-turn signal blinked and he swung into the driveway of a small house in a quiet residential neighborhood. He must relish this escape from the big city.
He parked in the driveway and she pulled up to the curb.
Tossing his keys in the air, he said, “Miserable traffic.”
“This is a nice neighborhood.”
“Yeah, my little refuge.”
“You need it.”
He unlocked his front door and shoved it open for her. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job.”
“I know you do. You wouldn’t be babysitting me if you didn’t.”
He tilted his head as he stepped aside, a quizzical look in his dark eyes. “Right.”
She stepped into the room and inhaled the scent of cleanliness—furniture polish, bleach, disinfectant.
“It’s a good thing my cleaning lady came today.” He flipped on a lamp by the door, and it illuminated a masculine room, dark and cozy.
She placed her hands on the back of his couch, smoothing them across the dark brown leather. “Somehow I get the feeling your cleaning lady doesn’t have a lot of work to do.”
“How much mess can a single guy create?” He spread his arms to encompass the immaculate room.
“You don’t know my brothers.” She pointed at the kitchen, whose gleaming surfaces were visible even in the darkness. “Do you want me to help with anything?”
“Sure. I’m going to thaw out the steaks and put a couple of potatoes in microwave. I have some fresh asparagus from the local farmers’ market. You can wash and trim that.”
She saluted. “Got it.”
As he covered the steaks on a plate and shoved them into the microwave, Elise ran some cold water over the asparagus spears. “What did they tell you when they dismissed you from the case?”
His fingers paused over the microwave buttons, and then he stabbed them and punched the power. “Said they didn’t like killers communicating with detectives, that the killers fed off the high and it could encourage them to commit more murders.”
“You obviously don’t believe that.”
“When a killer communicates with the detective on the case, it tends to yield more clues. There are more chances that he’ll slip up, reveal some detail.” He grabbed a couple of potatoes from the pantry and slammed the door. “They know that.”
“So, it’s just you.”
“Yeah, it’s me. If the killer had chosen anyone else in the department, they’d be all over it.”
“Do you think he will?” She took a potato from his hands and held it under the running water. “Replace you with another detective?”
He