“But he wouldn’t have said anything. I wasn’t an important part of Steve’s life. I don’t imagine he ever talked about me to anyone, and he’d definitely never have said a word about his personal life to his patients.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. It would have been inappropriate, and one thing I do know about Steve is that he was very professional.”
Okay, if it wasn’t Parker who’d told Reese...
Travis tried to think of another possibility but came up empty—probably because his mind was so closely focused on the fact that since Reese had Celeste Langley’s number he likely had her address, as well.
That thought reminded him he’d forgotten to ask an obvious question, so he said, “Regardless of how Reese knew about you, is your number listed? Could he have gotten it from Information?”
“Uh-uh. It’s unlisted.”
“Then I think we’d better talk some more about this face-to-face. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“No, wait. Coming here at this time of night would be crazy. I can—”
“Five minutes,” he repeated. “Ten, max. And...” He hesitated.
What would happen if Reese showed up at her place?
He considered the question for a couple of seconds, then decided that when she’d been so cautious about letting him and Hank in last night, she’d never open her door to a stranger. Especially not one like Reese.
And that meant there was no point in warning her not to. It would only make her more upset.
“And what?” she said.
“Nothing. Nothing that can’t wait till I get there.”
CHAPTER THREE
Monday, October 4, 10:23 p.m.
GAZING OUT INTO the night, stroking Snoops’s soft gray fur while she watched for Travis Quinn, Celeste couldn’t help feeling a little dumb for not even considering that Evan Reese might have been lying.
If that possibility had occurred to her, she’d never have bothered Quinn. But she had. And despite her guilt about that, she wasn’t entirely unhappy that he was on his way over.
She was feeling a chilliness that had nothing to do with the room temperature. If Reese hadn’t gotten her number from the detectives, then where?
And how had he even connected her to Steve when their last names were different? Obviously, he’d somehow learned Steve had a sister, but just how had he honed in on her?
While she anxiously watched the street, a car sped down it and pulled to an abrupt stop in front of her building. A black Mustang. The car Travis Quinn had been driving last night.
A sense of relief enveloped her as she watched him climb out. There was something about him that she found extremely reassuring. Something in addition to his being a cop.
In part, she knew, it was simply that he looked like a man accustomed to taking charge. He moved with a fluid confidence, and his features, regular as they were, were decidedly masculine.
But there was more to it than that. And although she hadn’t managed to put her finger on exactly what it was, she’d caught herself wondering about it a dozen times during the day.
All she felt certain of was that it had to do with the way he’d watched her last night. She’d been aware of his eyes on her almost the entire time.
Strangely enough, it hadn’t made her uncomfortable. In fact, it had made her feel as if he was on her side.
Oh, she realized that didn’t make sense. He and his partner had simply come to tell her about Steve. There’d been no question of “sides.” Yet, whether it made sense or not, that was how she’d felt.
She continued gazing down at him until he’d walked halfway up the front steps and disappeared from view. Then she hurried to the entrance hall.
“Hi,” she said, pressing the intercom button after her buzzer sounded.
“It’s me.”
“I know. I was watching for you.”
Once she’d released the downstairs lock, she opened her door so she could wait for him in the doorway. A minute later he strode out of the stairwell and started along the hall toward her.
He was taller than she’d remembered him. And even more attractive. His dark eyes were the color of rich chocolate, and the little laugh lines around them were appealing.
Appealing. Her choice of that particular word surprised her.
Since her marriage had fallen apart, she’d only been aware of good-looking men in the abstract. And thinking in terms of “appealing” was moving from the abstract to the concrete.
Be careful, she warned herself. The last thing she needed was her thoughts wandering along those lines.
“I feel terrible about dragging you over here so late,” she said, gesturing him inside.
“You didn’t drag me—I insisted. And the time doesn’t matter. There’s nobody waiting at home for me, and if I cared about nine-to-five, I wouldn’t be a cop.”
“Well, even so... Can I at least get you something? Coffee? Or soda? I don’t have any beer.”
“Do I look like a beer kind of guy?”
“Aren’t most men?”
He smiled. She smiled back, aware it was the first time she’d felt like smiling all day.
“A cold soda would be nice,” he said.
He trailed along as she headed for the fridge. When she turned to set the cans on the counter he seemed to have completely filled her little galley kitchen with his presence. It made her far more aware of him than she felt comfortable with.
Telling herself a second time to be careful, she reached for the tab on the first can.
“Want me to do that?”
“Sure. I’ll get the glasses.”
By the time she had, he’d opened the sodas. He poured them into the glasses, then followed her into the living room.
“So,” he said as they sat down. “Tell me more about Reese’s call.”
She hesitated, suddenly afraid that once she had he’d think her phoning him had been downright silly.
“You said the conversation got weird,” he prompted.
“Well...yes, it did, although it started out normally enough. I mean, I was surprised when he introduced himself as one of Steve’s patients. But if he’d simply
