navy suit pants. “Let me guess.” She ducked her chin, noting the power-red tie. “Agent Simmons? I’m just finishing my statement now. Would have taken me half the time if they’d let me type it.” Cole and his addiction to procedure. One day if he didn’t bend, he’d snap. “Not to mention it would have saved me from carpal tunnel. Cole said you wanted to question me?”
“Feeling better, Ms. St. Claire?”
Ah, passive-aggressive. Check. “As well as one can after having her blood drained before waking up hanging in a meat locker.” She scribbled her signature, dated the bottom of the yellow lined paper and clicked the pen shut. “Cole said the FBI was taking an interest in the case. Now.” She pushed to her feet. As much as she appreciated Cole’s desire to give her some privacy as she relived her ordeal, being on this side of the two-way mirror didn’t exactly calm her nerves. “Coffee?”
She didn’t wait for an answer before she walked out of the interview room. “Here you go, Bowie.” Eden handed over the yellow tablet to the uniformed officer at the desk next to Cole’s. The young man had been assigned to the major case division a few months back. He still had that whiff of youth and eagerness, his nickname a tribute to the British rock star his father idolized. But even with that blue-eyed baby face of his, she picked up on his determination to make a difference. Much like most of the officers Cole worked with. She’d never admit it out loud, but she felt at home here, in the bustle of law enforcement. It reminded her of the hours she spent working at the Tribune, where the energetic buzz of discovery and revelation was contagious. “Is Cole around?”
“Said he had an errand to run.” Bowie eyed Agent Simmons over her shoulder. “He asked that you wait for him.”
“As I’m stuck without my car for the time being, that’s a given. Thanks.” She jerked her chin toward the pink bakery box she’d deposited on Jack’s desk on her way in, making the other cops in the division swarm like bees to honey. “Better get your maple bar before it’s gone.”
“It’ll wait. I’m the only one who likes them,” Bowie said with a wistful look on his face. The transplant from Vermont may as well have had a bottle of syrup branded on his arm.
“Sure about that?” Eden arched a brow.
“You like maple?”
“I like doughnuts. Save me from myself, will you?” She glanced at Agent Simmons, who was watching the exchange with more interest than she thought necessary. “I’ll be in the break room.” Being interrogated by a federal agent. This day was shaping up to be great.
As she and Simmons sauntered inside, the few detectives and officers parted like the Red Sea, giving Simmons a wide berth while murmuring words of welcome and relief to her as they passed. Somehow the break room had been neglected in the recent remodel of the station. With its mismatched chairs, chipped tabletops and crooked blinds covering the windows, the space reminded Eden of an out-of-date coffee shop. The air was saturated with the smell of overpopped popcorn and continuously brewing coffee. Funny how the familiarity relaxed her.
“Odd,” Agent Simmons said as she handed him a chipped mug. He motioned to the officers who had just left. “They like you.”
“Odd because I’m a reporter?” She added a good dash of cinnamon to her cup before taking a seat by the window. “Or because I’m me?”
“In my experience reporters and cops don’t tend to get along.”
“It’s my charm.” Her friendship with Cole went a long way to bridging those professional gaps. “They know I want the same things they do. Doesn’t mean I’m their favorite person.” She’d spent plenty of time being frozen out of investigations. Eden cringed and added more sugar to her coffee. Great choice of words. Personally, she accepted their trepidation as a badge of honor.
“They circled the wagons for you.” Agent Simmons took a seat across from her, cupping his hands around the mug. “That tells me a lot about them. And you. It’s funny. I was led to believe Detective Delaney was keeping me away from you because you were...”
Eden sipped, looked at him over the rim of her cup and silently dared him to finish his thought.
The strained smile that stretched his lips caught her by surprise. “Not important.”
“Cole can be a bit—”
“Overprotective?”
“Determined.” And yes, overprotective, thanks to that oath he’d sworn to her brother. An oath she felt certain hadn’t included kissing. She shifted on her chair and veered off that track with a ferocity that could leave skid marks. “Cole’s radar goes up if he thinks I’m in trouble, which I often am, according to him. He also gets testy when he thinks someone’s trying to home in on his case.”
“I’m here to advise, that’s all.”
“Why? I didn’t think the Iceman case was even on the Feds’ radar.”
“On the contrary, it’s a case we’ve been following for some time.” He drew his gaze around the room. “As I told the lieutenant and Detective Delaney, I’m here to lend any assistance you might need.”
“So that wasn’t you raising a ruckus when you thought he’d— What was the phrase he used?” Eden kept her eyes on his face. She found Agent Simmons difficult to read. He didn’t give much away, barely a twitch or a flicker of his dark eyes. This was a man who was used to being in control. And getting what he wanted. If what he wanted was to steal this case from Cole—from her—she certainly wasn’t going to help him do it.
“I don’t like being lied to. And I don’t like the idea that this case might have stalled thanks to your—” he paused and inclined his head “—excessive interest.”
“This department’s had its fair share of disappointing interactions with your agency,” Eden felt compelled to explain, or maybe defend. “And the last thing a case does with me is stall.”
“I’m not the agency,” Simmons said. “But I took the lieutenant’s advice and did a little research while I was waiting. On Detective Delaney’s record with this case. And on you.”
Here we go. “Find anything interesting?”
“Aside from a couple of misdemeanor arrests—”
“A girl has to have a hobby.” She’d learned the most important lesson when it came to breaking and entering a good decade ago: don’t get caught.
“You’ve done good work, Ms. St. Claire. You’ve helped reopen at least three cold cases both here and in Oregon, all murders, in the last few years. Cases law enforcement had given up on.” His temper didn’t catch, not even with her baiting him. Interesting. “Worthy of a badge, some might say.”
“Bite your tongue.”
“Not a fan?”
“Of them?” She glanced through the blinds and chose her words carefully. “Absolutely. I admire them. I just prefer not having the...restrictions they do.” Cole needed those boundaries to stay sane. Eden fought them for the exact same reason.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need some. Calling out a killer the way you did has consequences. Which brings us to last night. Did you see him?
