commotion,” she said, “but you don’t have to come home. Jack’s here.”
“Jack?”
“He came with the police who responded to the alarm.”
“Oh. Did you accidentally set it off?”
“No, your cat did.”
“My cat?”
“Yes.” Carlotta rubbed her finger over the angry raised scratches on her hand. “And she’s a little mean.”
“Carly, I don’t have a cat.”
She frowned and her gaze went to the feline twisting happily between Jack’s legs. “Are you sure? She’s fluffy and blond—a Persian, I think, with green eyes.”
He laughed. “I’m positive I don’t have a cat. It must belong to a neighbor and slipped into the house when one of us wasn’t looking.”
“That’s strange,” she murmured.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said. “Are you sure I don’t need to come home?”
“No, everything’s fine. And I have to leave soon. The GBI wants to talk to me about The Charmed Killer case, so I thought I’d get that over with before going to work.”
“Well, I have to admit that I’m glad the GBI is taking over the investigation. Jack and his people don’t seem to be making much headway.”
She lifted her gaze to Jack and he frowned, as if he sensed Peter was talking about him. “I should get going,” she said. “Thanks for checking on me, Peter.”
“I left you the Porsche,” Peter said, sounding…husbandly.
“That’s very generous. I’ll see you later?”
“Can’t wait. Have a good day.”
“You, too,” she murmured, conscious that Jack was listening. She punched a button to end the phone call, then shrugged. “Peter says it’s not his cat. It must belong to a neighbor and got into the house somehow.”
Jack made a noise in his throat. “I’ll check the doors and windows and search the house just to be sure no one else came in.”
She nodded, thinking of Michael.
“Want me to put the cat outside?”
“I suppose so. Her owner is probably looking for her. Or maybe she’ll find her way back home.”
Jack scooped up the cat, who purred and rubbed its head on his lapel. “I’ll look around and wait for you downstairs. Do you need a ride to the station for the interview we discussed?”
She pressed her lips together. “Uh, no. I have transportation.”
“Did you get the Miata fixed?”
“No.”
“A new car?”
“Uh, no. Peter loaned me one of his.”
Jack’s eyebrows went up.
She squirmed. “It’s practical, at least while I’m staying here.”
“I have to hand it to Ashford. He’s giving you a taste of the good life.”
Carlotta lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Not a thing,” Jack said lightly. “Maybe I underestimated him.”
“Peter is accustomed to getting what he wants, and he doesn’t have to throw muscle around to get it.”
“Muscle? What muscle?” Jack casually flexed his own bulging biceps.
“Real mature, Jack. I’m going to take a shower.”
He grinned. “Want some company?”
“No,” she said, pushing him out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. Yet, as she showered in the luxurious bathroom, she thought back to when she and Jack had shared a showerhead only a few days before—right after her car had exploded. The incident had shaken them both and they agreed that due to mounting complications, it would be the last time they would give in to temptation.
Yet they seemed addicted to each other.
She showered and dressed hurriedly, pulling her still-damp long dark hair into a ponytail. When she descended to the first floor, she found Jack standing next to the sliding glass door. His back was to her, and he was on his cell phone.
“Yes, sir, I do understand what’s on the line, sir…yes, sir, I know it’s a shit storm…yes, sir, I know this is our jurisdiction and I don’t like the state badges here any more than you do…yes, sir, I won’t let you down.” He disconnected the call and rubbed his neck in fatigue.
Carlotta walked up to him and took over the impromptu massage, kneading the muscles in the top of his shoulders through his shirt.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” he said.
“Did you sleep last night?”
“Some.”
“Jack, you’re no good to anyone if you fall asleep behind the wheel and kill yourself.”
“I’m fine,” he said, straightening and turning around. He glanced over her outfit—gray miniskirt, a bone-colored jacket and lime-green blouse—his gaze lingering on her legs that ended in five-inch Chloe pumps. “Is your strategy to distract the state guys with that lame excuse for a skirt?”
She smiled. “Think it’ll work?”
He groaned. “Only if they’re not blind.”
Carlotta laughed. “Any more leads on the case?”
“As if I could discuss them with you.”
“But no more bodies?”
“No, thank God…At least none that we know of.”
“Have you found Michael Lane?”
“No. He hasn’t contacted you, has he?”
“You know I would’ve told you.”
“Right.” He glanced at his watch. “Ready to go? I’ll follow you to the station.”
“I’m ready, I need to set the security alarm. What did you do with the cat?”
“I put her outside and she ran away, so maybe she’ll find her way back home.”
Carlotta nursed a stab of remorse. “I hope so. Where is the broken glass?”
He gestured toward a utility closet. “I swept it
