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Zane bit into his third buttered roll. “Lady, you should be a professional chef.”
“Nah, then it would be a job. I cook for fun and relaxation.” She sipped wine. “What do you do to relax, Zane?”
He knew what hewantedto do, and it all involved her—naked and writhing beneath him. He shifted in his chair. “I read, watch ball games, run or work out, and whenever I get the chance, I fly. I have my own plane.”
“Wow, that’s fabulous.”
“Yeah, it’s a great way to unwind, especially at night. I like looking at the stars, always have. I wanted to fly fighter jets.”
“Why did you fly commercial out here?”
He smirked. “Because your six dozen messages had a certain … urgency. And mine doesn’t go as fast as a jumbo jet.”
“Ah. Casey’s very interested in astronomy, too. So why didn’t you do the pilot thing?”
“I blew out my shoulder pitching that last championship baseball game in college. No permanent debilitating damage, but the military is damned picky about their fighter pilots’ physical condition.”
“You could still have become a commercial pilot.”
“Same as you with cooking, I didn’t want to spoil the exhilaration of flying by making it a mundane job. Up there, alone in that quiet place, I own it.” He took a drink of his wine. “Besides, by then I knew I wanted to be a cop.”
“And what influenced that decision?”
What was it about this intriguing woman that made him want to confide all his secrets? Open himself to danger … and pain? His barricades slammed back into place. “We’re not here to talk about me.” He tugged out his encrypted phone, started a new memo document. “Tell me every detail you have about Deb’s case.”
Disappointment flickered in her gaze before she lowered her lashes, and his gut twisted. He’d bruised her feelings.
Yet another reminder to keep your distance, before you hurt her worse.
“Let me get dessert, first.” She went into the house, quickly returning with two plates of peach pie topped by mounds of ice cream.
He eagerly dug into his pie.
Jillian took a dainty bite of hers. “Like I said, Deb and Reynolds had met in D.C., then grew really close when he did some fundraising for Hope Center. Ironically, Lynn is the one who convinced Wade to become involved in the center, she’d been helping us since her girls were in middle school. Deb resisted Wade’s advances at first, but he courted her with the same persistence and charm he uses to con the voters. Kept assuring her he and Lynn had nothing left and were only staying together for their daughters and his political career.”
Her fork crumbled the crust to bits on her plate. “My best friend wasn’t perfect, none of us are, are we? But she was a good person, and a damned terrific mom. Getting her heart tangled up with a married man wasn’t the wisest choice, but she didn’t deserve to die for it.”
“No, she didn’t. How did they communicate, were there emails, phone calls?”
“Yes, but they constantly switched to different email accounts. Deb was careful to erase the emails, and Wade gave her a separate phone just for his calls. When I packed up her things, it was missing, which set off even more alarms for me. Nobody but Reynolds and his sniveling assistant Carson Wentworth, who spins everything for him, knew about that phone. Frankly, I don’t trust Carson as far as I could toss him, either. He’s a coldblooded little bastard whose lips are permanently attached to Reynolds’ ass, and I wouldn’t putanythingpast him to protect his boss’ political career—and by default, his own limited claim to fame. One of them, or both, are responsible.”
Zane still wasn’t convinced, but it wouldn’t surprise him. Unfortunately, not much bad news surprised him anymore. He’d been around long enough to see the worst of humanity. Stopping predators was his life’s work.
But he was only one man … there were too many victims he couldn’t help.
“Do you still have her computer and her own cell phone?”
“Yes. But I’ve searched through every message and every file, and found nothing incriminating.”
“Even deleted data can often be tracked and recalled. I know my way around a hard drive, plus I have a brilliant security specialist buddy. If there’s trace evidence anywhere, we’ll find it. I need you to arrange for me to meet Wade Reynolds, and his assistant, on a casual basis, so I can get a read on them.”
She covered his fingers with hers, squeezed. “Anything you need, I’ll do. I can never thank you enough, Zane. For everything. I’ve felt so helpless, lost, and furious at the injustice.”
How could one simple touch of her hand make his skin tingle, his muscles tighten? “Not unexpected. Losing your friend in such a sudden, traumatic way and fitting a kid into your life is a big adjustment.”
“Yes, but I have to stay strong for Casey.”
“You need to let yourself grieve, too. Bottled up grief causes insidious damage.” His mother was a prime example.
