called my office yesterday, said he’d decided to renew his contract. I had my assistant order the basket, with directions to deliver it to Phillip’s office.”
“Why muffins? Why not a bottle of wine? A couple of cigars?”
“Like I said, Phillip was into healthy living. The muffins were low fat.”
Jake held up the plastic bag. “Is this your handwriting?”
“No, I told my assistant the message I wanted on the card. He dictated it when he placed the order.”
“So you didn’t go to the bakery? You didn’t pick out the muffins? Didn’t deliver them yourself?”
Her hands and her jaw constricted with equal force. “I’ve never seen them. My assistant, Melvin Hall, ordered the muffins over the phone. He’s never seen them. Are we done, Sergeant? It’s been a hell of a day and I want to go home.”
“Almost.” Jake slid the bag back into his shirt pocket. “How did you get in here tonight?”
“The guard on the gate let me in.”
“So, you’ve visited Ormiston’s house so many times that the guard recognized you?”
“I’ve never been here before tonight.” She raised her chin. “I guess the guard thinks I have an honest face. When Phillip didn’t answer the guard’s call, the guard buzzed me in so I could leave a note on Phillip’s front door.”
“Did you leave a note?”
“No, I found Phillip’s body instead. Are we done?”
“For now.”
She shouldered open the door, was out of the car like a shot.
“Hold on.”
She’d taken two steps when he caught up with her.
“I said hold on.”
She wheeled on him just as he snagged her elbow. Momentum had her stumbling forward, her body colliding with his. For a split second, she had the impression of slamming into rock-hard muscle.
“You said we were done.”
He reached out his other hand when she teetered. “You’re upset. I want to make sure you’re okay to drive.”
“Of course I’m okay!” she flung back, jerking from his hold. “I’m used to finding dead bodies. Touching them. Accustomed to getting grilled by a cop. A cop who accuses me of…of…”
“I haven’t accused you of anything, Nicole.”
“Sending bakery muffins!” she shot back.
His mouth quirked. “So far, I’ve restrained myself from hauling you in on that charge.”
She closed her eyes for an instant. “Was Phillip poisoned? Was there something in the muffins?”
“I have no idea.”
“Then why were you asking—”
“It’s my job to ask,” he said quietly, his face awash in light and shadow as he gazed down at her. “I told you up-front I’m investigating this as an unexplained death. That means I work it as a murder until I can prove it wasn’t.”
“What if it was?”
“Then I’ll find out who did it.”
She shook her head. “Do you think Phillip was murdered?”
“Nobody knows until the M.E. knows.” He shrugged. “Until then, I have to ask a lot of people questions. I may have to ask you more. That’s because I can’t exactly ask Ormiston.”
She dragged in a shaky breath. “You may be used to dealing with death on a daily basis, but I’m not. I can’t believe this happened to someone I know.”
Eyes narrowing, Jake studied her face. “If you don’t feel up to driving home, I’ll take you.” The concern in his voice tugged at something deep inside her. “I have to go see Ormiston’s son,” he said quietly. “It’ll be no problem to take you home first.”
They were standing close, their bodies more casual than intimate, and she knew full well what was between them was business. Yet, the thought of again sitting beside him in the close confines of his car sent a pool of heat spreading through her belly that made her legs go weak.
That heated weakness had her remembering how she’d succumbed so easily to another man’s touch. How a twin flood of need and desire had swept her away until she’d nearly drowned. How she’d hurt when she discovered the truth about the man she’d known next to nothing about when they’d rushed into marriage. How easily he’d betrayed her trust.
Never again, she reminded herself. She’d resolved a long time ago that logic—not emotion—would guide her on her search for her soul mate.
Right now, logic told her to run as far away from Jake Ford as possible.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a step backward toward her Jaguar. Then another. “I can drive myself.”
Chapter 3
“Yeah, yeah,” Jake said into the phone the following morning as he rocked back in his city-issue desk chair. “Cárdenas’s girlfriend didn’t show last night at that apartment building like you told me she would. You know what that means, Julio?”
“What?”
“You gave me bad information.”
“Look, man—”
“No, you look. Cárdenas shot a seven-year-old boy just for standing on a street corner. His girlfriend can make him for the homicide. I want her.”
“She got wind you’re looking for her, so she’s lying low.”
“Not low enough so you can’t sniff her out,” Jake countered. “I told you, you want my help with that warrant hanging over your head, you’ll get me a line on where I can find her. Tonight.”
Jake slammed down the receiver on a curse. Almost immediately, the phone rang. He snagged it up, checking the clock above the assignment board where grease-penciled letters displayed each homicide team’s working cases. Nine-o-five. He needed to be at Ormiston’s office when it opened at ten, and he hoped this was the call from the M.E. he’d been waiting on.
It was.
“I just finished the autopsy on Phillip Ormiston.” The deep timbre of Dr. John McClandess’s voice boomed across the line. Jake pictured the man eternally garbed in a white lab coat, his gaunt face sharpened to the bone, black eyes vibrant, gray hair combed back from the temples. “My assistant left a note saying you wanted me to call with my preliminary findings.”
“That’s right.” With his desk in its usual state of avalanche, Jake had to dig to unearth a pad and pen. “So, Doc, do
