obey. Reluctantly and with narrowed green eyes that glinted with anger.
Katie looked at Jordan. “You’re not FBI. Why’d you identify yourself as such?”
He felt a flush start at the base of his neck. Then gave a small shrug even as the shadows danced across his mind. He pushed them away. “I am again as of last month. Simply doing some consulting work with them.”
“Oh.”
He spread his hands, palms up. “They asked.”
“Right. Well, that should make my lieutenant happier.” Jordan knew her lieutenant hadn’t been too keen on Katie having access to her sister’s files, but he had finally caved, especially when she’d explained that she was hiring an outside organization to help. He’d been intrigued by the idea and finally agreed as long as she kept him updated. And worked the case on her own time. As far as Jordan could tell, she’d kept to that promise.
She stared at him a moment longer, then turned her frown at her intruder. “Who are you, and what were you doing in my house?”
His gaze lowered to the badge on her belt. “You’re a cop?”
“I am.”
“And you’re FBI?” He directed his question to Jordan, who gave a sharp nod.
“Figures.” He clamped his lips and looked away. Jordan decided the guy was younger than he’d originally thought. Maybe in his mid-twenties.
“Your name?” Katie demanded.
“Wesley Wray.”
“What were you looking for, Mr. Wray?” Jordan asked.
Wesley shrugged. “Whatever I could find. Jewelry, cash, whatever.”
Katie snapped his picture with her iPhone and emailed it directly to her office with instructions to find out everything possible about this man. “So this was just a random thing? You picked my house out of all the ones in this subdivision?”
“Yeah, I guess. It looked like an easy hit.” He shook his head and muttered, “Didn’t know you were a cop.”
Jordan saw skepticism skitter across Katie’s face and knew she wasn’t buying the guy’s story. Jordan hauled the man to his feet. “Come on, you can tell the rest of this sad tale downtown.”
As he stood, Wesley’s gaze landed on Katie’s briefcase sitting on the front porch. “Your laptop in there?”
She frowned. “It is. Why?”
“Nothing.”
Jordan led Wesley to a waiting police cruiser. Jordan recognized Chris Jiles as one of the officers. Chris locked his hand around Wray’s upper arm and looked at Katie. “You all right?”
“Never better.”
“Right.” He helped Jordan get Mr. Wray secured in the back of the cruiser. She walked over and shook hands with Chris. “I’ll be down to the station shortly to fill out a report. Stick him in one of the interrogation rooms and let him sit for a bit.”
“Will do. You need a crime scene unit?”
“Why? We caught him red-handed and he confessed. Let’s not waste lab dollars on a simple B & E.”
He shrugged. “Your call.”
Chris drove off with his prisoner, followed by the other officers who’d shown up. Katie turned to Jordan.
Dressed in pressed khaki pants and a blue button-up shirt, she had her straight blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with a plain band. Her light brown eyes still glinted steel. A faint dusting of freckles and no makeup would make a lot of women look plain. Katie, however, was a natural beauty.
He ignored the zing of attraction he always seemed to get around her and followed her up the front porch steps.
Romance, attraction, whatever it was he felt when he spent time with her was not an option. Katie Randall had killed his brother—at least in his parents’ eyes—and while he’d work with her on this case, getting personal was out of the question. And besides, she’d gone out her way to avoid him ever since she’d learned he would be the one handling the case.
They stepped back inside and the destruction greeted them.
Even though she’d already seen it, he heard her suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full cleaning this up.”
She sighed. “Looks like. Fifteen days until Christmas and this. Lovely. Just what I wanted to come home to.” She grimaced. “Okay, I’ll stop whining now. Sorry.”
He gave a short laugh. “I’ll help.”
Really? And why was he offering to spend more time with her than necessary? She lifted a brow. “I’ll probably call a cleaning crew, but thanks.”
Relieved—yet strangely disappointed—he nodded and looked around. “Mariah’s not here, obviously.”
“No.” She walked into the kitchen and looked out the window into the garage. “Her car’s not here. She either stayed late at work or stopped somewhere on her way home.”
Jordan tilted his head toward the back of the house. “Your office is trashed, too.”
Katie spun on her heel and walked to her office. Trashed was a kind word. “He asked about my laptop. Do you find that strange?”
“Yes. A bit.”
Katie walked to Mariah’s room. Mariah had gone crazy with Christmas decorations. Decorations that were still in their place, none broken, none touched. Jordan followed. She said, “But he didn’t touch anything in here.”
“Maybe he just didn’t have time to get to it.”
“Maybe.”
“Or he was just interested in your stuff and not hers.”
“But why? And why ask about my laptop?”
“I think we’ll have to get Mr. Wray to answer those questions.”
* * *
Katie rubbed her head, hoping the action would push away the building headache. “I guess this means our meeting is on hold.”
“Again.”
Katie felt a flush of guilt stain her cheeks. It was true. She’d been putting him off, delaying their getting together. Every time she was around him, she expected him to bring up his brother. And her part in the man’s death. Her avoidance of Jordan was unusual. Normally if she needed to address something unpleasant, she did it and got it over with. Not so with this man. “It’s not like I planned this.”
“No, but you’ve been avoiding meeting with me. You’re the one who came to us, remember? I’ve been working this case for the past two weeks. I need you to be available to
