“I just need to grab my stuff from upstairs and then I’m ready to go.” She nodded at the kitchen. “There’s fresh coffee. Help yourself.”

  As she ran up the stairs, she heard his phone ringing. Maybe it was Tommy calling from the autopsy to give them a lead. At least she hoped so. The sooner they got a few strong leads the faster they’d solve the murder and bring closure to Nancy’s family.

  She secured her gun in the holster and slipped it onto her belt then gathered her things and retraced her steps. On the landing, she paused and looked down at Mitch. She’d expected to find him in the kitchen getting coffee. Instead, he stood leaning on the fireplace mantel, one hand on his cell, one massaging the back of his neck as if his conversation was tense. She studied him. His broad shoulders and long lean body. His self-assured stance.

  A man this attractive should have women flocking around him, but if rumors were true, he didn’t even date. Of course, she didn’t, either. But at thirty she had a few more years than he had to find a mate if she ever chose to do so. He was at least four years older, maybe five.

  He turned, looking up at her. His gaze roved from her head to her toes and back up again. Her heart dipped, and she pressed her nails into her palms to keep from embarrassing herself by fawning over him.

  She wouldn’t let him get to her again. The loss of her adoptive parents had made her look back on her life and take stock of all she’d been through. To remember all the horrible things that had happened so they couldn’t be repeated. And that meant not letting a man get close enough to control and hurt her as her mother had been hurt. Even a man like Mitch, who on the surface seemed like an upstanding kind of guy.

  Just keep remembering that, Kat, and you’ll be fine.

  She continued down the stairs and by the time she reached him, he was saying goodbye.

  “Tommy,” he said, without making her pump him for information as she’d expected. “The drug in the syringe was propofol.”

  Propofol. Very dangerous and deadly in the wrong hands. “The anesthesia drug used in surgeries,” she said, trying to keep the renewed fear out of her tone.

  “If he’d injected you with the entire syringe, your breathing would’ve been severely compromised.”

  “And I’d be dead,” she said in a whisper.

  “Nancy’s tox screen was positive, as well,” he said quickly, as if wanting to move on.

  Kat wished she could let go of her memories of that night as easily. It’d be a long time before she stopped seeing Nancy lying there next to her while the killer tried to end her life, too.

  “The M.E. estimates Nancy had been dead less than an hour before he arrived on scene,” he continued.

  “Not long after she called me,” Kat said and clenched her hands to fight back a fresh wave of sorrow. If only she’d gotten to Nancy sooner. Or taken her more seriously when she’d claimed Nathan had been murdered. Her friend could still be alive.

  “Still, the killer could’ve gotten away if he’d wanted to leave.” Mitch paused for a long moment and made eye contact. “Sounds like your theory may be right. He knew you were coming and waited for you to arrive so he could kill you.”

  “Then he’ll likely try again.” She stated the obvious and hated how it made her breathe faster to ward off her fear.

  Mitch searched her face, his intriguing eyes softened as he moved closer. He took her chin between his fingers and turned her head, studying her like a bug under a microscope.

  “Your nose may be broken. We’ll make time today to get it checked out.” He sounded so clinical, which was the farthest thing from what she was feeling.

  “I’m fine.” She gazed up at him. He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.

  With his other hand, he gently brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “You never said how this happened. Did you fall and hit the floor?”

  “The killer punched me.”

  He hissed out a breath and his thumb trailed down her cheek and under her chin, sending every nerve in her body into awareness. Even the scientific way he’d held her chin felt good. It was almost like a caress, wrapping her with warmth. Warmth she had no business feeling if she was going to keep Mitch at bay, much less stay alert and out of the path of a killer.

  * * *

  Mitch didn’t know what it was about Kat that got to him. Sure, she was cute, adorable even. A brown-eyed, curly-haired, five foot four bundle of adorable, but he’d resisted adorable in the past.

  He was probably reacting to what had happened to her last night, but man, when she’d told him their suspect punched her, he’d seen red. Bright, vivid, bull-fighting red and he had to touch her. To connect with her on some level. So he’d used her injury as an excuse to reach out to her. Soon, he felt the anger melt and something else he didn’t want to think about replaced it. It had lingered ever since.

  Even now after a sixty-minute drive on winding Oregon roads, he couldn’t get images of her being manhandled out of his head when he should be focusing on a case that wouldn’t solve itself.

  Maybe things would be better once Tommy joined them. And maybe if they talked for the rest of the drive, his mind would stop wandering to places it had no business going.

  “So do you ever miss being a cop?” he asked, trying to sound casually interested.

  “Sometimes.” She faced the window as if trying to shut him down.

  “But you like working with the agency?’

  “Most of the time.”

  Great. A real talker. “What don’t you like about it?”

  “It can be difficult to work with family.”

  With his parents dead and his only sibling wandering the streets of Portland, he couldn’t begin to understand that, but he knew her family was important to her.

  “How so?” he asked and took a long sip of the rich coffee they’d poured into travel mugs before leaving her house.

  She shrugged.

  “C’mon, Kat. Would it hurt to talk to me?”

  She swiveled and searched his face with big brown eyes. Sweet eyes. Eyes with no residual frustration but were just filled with questions. “Why do you want to be so buddy buddy all of a sudden?”

  “You’ve been through something horrible, and I thought it might help to talk.”

  She just looked at him, her expression unreadable.

  “This isn’t about that crush you had on me, is it?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Sorry for bringing it up, but there are a lot of female officers in the department who don’t exactly like to see me.”

  She frowned at him, and he got the message. She didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. Something he should expect coming from one of the women he’d rejected, but for some odd reason it was important that she understood.

  “It’s a problem, Kat. A very real one.” He waited for a response but got none. “You try doing your job when half the force is hurt because you wouldn’t go out with them.”

  She snorted.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Half the force?”

  “Fine.” He grinned at her teasing tone. “I exaggerated.”

  Her lips twitched in a smile. “In all seriousness, I heard other officers complaining about how hurt they were when you rejected them. I know it’s a problem for you.”

  “I appreciate your understanding.”

  “I can be sympathetic now, but make no mistake, I was mad at you. Or maybe I was more embarrassed that you shut me down in front of my coworkers. But all of that’s in the past.” Her smile faded. “It’s not important anymore. Nothing seems quite as important after losing Nancy that way.”

  The opening he hoped for. “You want to talk about what happened?”

  She shrugged.

  “I’ve been there, Kat. Not the being attacked part, but I lost a partner once.”

  Her eyes flew up to his, surprise brightening the color. “Really? I hadn’t heard about that.”

  “It happened in Salem. Before I moved here.” He looked at her wondering if he should go on. If he did, he’d expose feelings he never shared. Raw feelings that he’d rather keep to himself, but he could help her. “It’s something you never get over. I’m still trying to let it go.”

  She peered at him then, her eyes soft. Vulnerable. The emotions from last night were present and vivid on her face.

  “Do you feel guilty?” she asked.

  Her whisper-soft voice cut into him and once again, he was back there, with Lori the day she’d been shot, stuck in the scene that had replayed in his mind too many times to count. The bright sunshine. The deafening sound of a shotgun as the man bolted out of his house and opened fire. The sticky blood everywhere at once. A bullet slicing into his neck, spinning him to the ground where he was powerless to help Lori—not only his partner but the woman he’d just asked to marry him.

  “You know,” Kat added, oblivious to his turmoil. “Guilty, as if you could’ve prevented it from happening?”

  “It’s not as if we have any control over what happens.” He stopped, not trusting himself to say anything until he took a few deep breaths. “No matter what I do if God allows people I care about to be hurt, I can’t stop it.” His voice was heavy with sadness, and he saw the same thing on Kat’s face. “I wish I could go back to the days when I believed God heard my prayers.”

  She didn’t respond immediately, but sat there as if gathering her thoughts. “It may be hard to see at times, Mitch, but God does listen, and He has a good plan for your life.”

  He glanced at her again. “After all you’ve been through and seen on the job, you honestly believe that?”

  “I may not like what He allows to happen, but I know He’s there.”

  “It would be nice to feel that way. I just can’t,” he said with such finality that she looked away, and he was left with his thoughts again.

  Thoughts of his sister, Angie. Every day, he expected to arrive at a homicide scene only to discover she was the victim. He tried not to think about it. Tried, but failed every time he caught a case. Every time he had to inform a victim’s family that their loved one would not be coming home. Every time he worked his leads and brought a killer to justice.

  And even times like now, as he parked in front of the Oregon State Police office in St. Helens, he knew when he talked to the officer about Bodig’s death, a part of him could easily slip into questions about why God took Nathan Bodig. Questions that brought no answers.

  He turned off the engine and as Kat started to get out, his mind moved to the upcoming meeting. “I’d appreciate it if you’d remember you’re just an observer here. Especially since Franklin’s already proved he plays by the rules.”

  “I’ll try,” she said and slipped out of the car.

  He followed her into the crisp morning air and paused by the office door to enjoy a rare sun break. As usual for February in Oregon, by the time they came back outside the sun would most likely have retreated behind gray clouds.

  He opened the door for Kat and followed her inside where a young clerk escorted them through a bullpen area to a desk in the back. A stout, uniformed male came to his feet, his eyes roving over Kat, then Mitch, taking in details an officer of the law was trained to see.

  “Senior Trooper Ed Franklin.” He thrust out a hand.

  Mitch offered his business card while completing introductions.

  “You didn’t mention Ms. Justice would be accompanying you.” His tone hinted at opposition.

  Mitch eyed up the officer with a stare he’d perfected in suspect interrogations. “Is that a problem?”

  “No,” he said, though Mitch heard the reluctance in the single word. He sat and gestured toward chairs by his cluttered desk. “So you came to talk about the Bodig fatality.”

  Mitch waited for Kat to sit then took the other chair. “I’m interested in hearing how you determined this crash was an accident.”

  “First off, a crash like Bodig’s isn’t unusual for that stretch of highway.” Franklin leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck. He seemed relaxed but Mitch could see he remained alert. “We’ve covered several fatal accidents in that location. Second, it was a rainy night with slick roads.”

  “So you think visibility might’ve been a factor in the crash?” Mitch clarified.

  “Could be.” He snapped forward and pulled out a map, pointing to a section of Highway 30. “This is where it happened. Deep ravines line both sides of the road here. It wouldn’t take much of a misstep to turn fatal.”

  “Any possibility he was forced off the road?”

  “There were no skid marks at the scene. So that would be highly unlikely. But without an eye witness, I can’t be one hundred percent positive.”

  “No skid marks?” Kat asked, clearly surprised.

  “None.”

  Interesting. A lack of skid marks would mean Nathan didn’t apply his brakes to keep from going off the road. But that wasn’t conclusive. His brakes could’ve been cut, or Bodig could have been impaired. Maybe by alcohol or drugs or he fell asleep. “What about Bodig? Did you check him out?”

  “We ran down the usual profile. Blood alcohol, tox screen, D.M.V. record. All clean. He made the trip every weekend to visit his fiancée in Astoria. From what she and his sister both said, he’d been burning the candle at both ends. My best guess is that he fell asleep at the wheel.”

  “And no unusual findings on the vehicle?”

  “Unusual? No. But it was seriously charred.” He shook his head. “Don’t know how long it burned before the fire department arrived on scene. A trucker spotted the wreck and called it in.”

  “Do you know what happened to the vehicle after it was released?” Mitch asked, hoping they could get a look at it.

  Franklin opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. He circled something in the middle of the page and slid it across the desk. “This is the tow company we recommend to next of kin. Henry down there is good about helping them dispose of vehicles. You can check with them.”

  “Thanks,” Mitch said. “One more thing. Bodig’s cell phone. It was never recovered.”

  “His sister said that was odd so we spent extra time looking for it.” He reclined again. “With all the windows shattered in the car, his phone could’ve been ejected and landed anywhere. The brush is too thick to search every inch.”

  “But it definitely wasn’t in the car,” Kat added.

  He nodded and looked at Mitch. “You mind telling me what this’s all about?”

  “We think this may not have been an accident.”

  “Suppose you tell me what you’re basing that on.” This time he didn’t mask his defensive tone.

  “Relax. It has nothing to do with your investigation. His sister was murdered after she started looking into the accident.”

  “Murdered.” Franklin’s feet came to the floor with a loud thud. “Why didn’t you tell me that right up front?”

  “I needed to know your mind-set at the time of the investigation. Telling you could’ve changed your perception of things.”

  “You think?” He kept shaking his head. “Now I’m wondering if I missed something. How’d the sister die?”

  “Injected with propofol.”

  “If Bodig had taken propofol, he couldn’t have been driving,” Franklin mumbled to himself then a light-bulb-gone-off look brightened his face. “This’s why you want to see the car. You think it was tampered with.”

  “It’s possible,” Mitch said, not wanting to get into details of their investigation with Franklin. “We’d appreciate a copy of the accident report as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll run one off right now.” Franklin got up. “Be right back.”

  When he was out of hearing distance, Mitch faced Kat. “Not what you expected to hear?”

  “No, but the lack of skid marks aren’t conclusive. He still could’ve been murdered.” Her chin jutted out in a cute defiant angle.

  “Agreed. If our killer has access to propofol, he could get any number of drugs that didn’t show up on the basic tox screen Franklin had run. If Bodig had drugs on board it would’ve seriously hindered his ability to drive.” He smiled to try to ease the concern wedged on her face. “But we’ll need solid evidence before we can request additional tests.”

  “Question is where are we going to find that evidence?”

  “You up for a road trip?”

  “Where to?”

  “The accident scene.” He felt the excitement of the hunt raising his pulse and heard it settling in his voice.

  “Absolutely,” she agreed. “Though after two months it seems unlikely there’d be anything for us to find.”

  “It’s still a good idea to get a visual of how things went down. After that we’ll take a look at Bodig’s vehicle.” He saw Franklin returning, so ended their conversation.

  “Here you go.” Franklin handed over the file.

  “Thanks.” Mitch stood. “Mind if we take your map?”

  “Not at all.” Franklin picked it up and gave it to him.

  “You’ve got my card. Call me if you think of anything that might help.”

  Franklin gave a clipped nod. “Will do.”

  Mitch gestured for Kat to precede him, and they headed for the exit.

  “By the way, I meant to say thanks in there,” he said, slipping ahead and holding the door for her.

  “For what?”

  “For letting me do most of the talking.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” She grinned up at him, revealing small dimples in both cheeks.

  He ignored the way his heart dipped again and followed her outside.

  The sun had given way to rain. More than a drizzle, less than a steady rain. Kat flipped up her hood. Mitch’s P.P.B. windbreaker didn’t have one, so he rushed ahead and unlocked the doors.

  In the car, he handed over the paper from Franklin. “Can you call the garage to see if the wreck is still there or if they got rid of it for salvage?”

  “Sure.”

  He headed out of town, and she dug out her phone. On Highway 30, he paid close attention to the two-lane road. With slick rain, the road could be as dangerous as Franklin had indicated. Kat chatted with the tow company, and he could tell by her questions that they no longer had Bodig’s vehicle.