Jordan saw skepticism skitter across Katie’s face and knew she wasn’t buying the guy’s story. Jordan hauled the man to his feet. “Come on, you can tell the rest of this sad tale downtown.”
As he stood, Wesley’s gaze landed on Katie’s briefcase sitting on the front porch. “Your laptop in there?”
She frowned. “It is. Why?”
“Nothing.”
Jordan led Wesley to a waiting police cruiser. Jordan recognized Chris Jiles as one of the officers. Chris locked his hand around Wray’s upper arm and looked at Katie. “You all right?”
“Never better.”
“Right.” He helped Jordan get Mr. Wray secured in the back of the cruiser. She walked over and shook hands with Chris. “I’ll be down to the station shortly to fill out a report. Stick him in one of the interrogation rooms and let him sit for a bit.”
“Will do. You need a crime scene unit?”
“Why? We caught him red-handed and he confessed. Let’s not waste lab dollars on a simple B & E.”
He shrugged. “Your call.”
Chris drove off with his prisoner, followed by the other officers who’d shown up. Katie turned to Jordan.
Dressed in pressed khaki pants and a blue button-up shirt, she had her straight blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with a plain band. Her light brown eyes still glinted steel. A faint dusting of freckles and no makeup would make a lot of women look plain. Katie, however, was a natural beauty.
He ignored the zing of attraction he always seemed to get around her and followed her up the front porch steps.
Romance, attraction, whatever it was he felt when he spent time with her was not an option. Katie Randall had killed his brother—at least in his parents’ eyes—and while he’d work with her on this case, getting personal was out of the question. And besides, she’d gone out her way to avoid him ever since she’d learned he would be the one handling the case.
They stepped back inside and the destruction greeted them.
Even though she’d already seen it, he heard her suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full cleaning this up.”
She sighed. “Looks like. Fifteen days until Christmas and this. Lovely. Just what I wanted to come home to.” She grimaced. “Okay, I’ll stop whining now. Sorry.”
He gave a short laugh. “I’ll help.”
Really? And why was he offering to spend more time with her than necessary? She lifted a brow. “I’ll probably call a cleaning crew, but thanks.”
Relieved—yet strangely disappointed—he nodded and looked around. “Mariah’s not here, obviously.”
“No.” She walked into the kitchen and looked out the window into the garage. “Her car’s not here. She either stayed late at work or stopped somewhere on her way home.”
Jordan tilted his head toward the back of the house. “Your office is trashed, too.”
Katie spun on her heel and walked to her office. Trashed was a kind word. “He asked about my laptop. Do you find that strange?”
“Yes. A bit.”
Katie walked to Mariah’s room. Mariah had gone crazy with Christmas decorations. Decorations that were still in their place, none broken, none touched. Jordan followed. She said, “But he didn’t touch anything in here.”
“Maybe he just didn’t have time to get to it.”
“Maybe.”
“Or he was just interested in your stuff and not hers.”
“But why? And why ask about my laptop?”
“I think we’ll have to get Mr. Wray to answer those questions.”
* * *
Katie rubbed her head, hoping the action would push away the building headache. “I guess this means our meeting is on hold.”
“Again.”
Katie felt a flush of guilt stain her cheeks. It was true. She’d been putting him off, delaying their getting together. Every time she was around him, she expected him to bring up his brother. And her part in the man’s death. Her avoidance of Jordan was unusual. Normally if she needed to address something unpleasant, she did it and got it over with. Not so with this man. “It’s not like I planned this.”
“No, but you’ve been avoiding meeting with me. You’re the one who came to us, remember? I’ve been working this case for the past two weeks. I need you to be available to answer questions when they come up. By putting me off, you’re making it exceedingly difficult for me to do my job.” He studied her. “And after you went to all that trouble to convince your lieutenant to grant us access to files and everything related to Lucy’s case.”
Katie grimaced at the memory of going to her lieutenant and unashamedly begging him to allow them to do this. “I know. I know,” she groaned. “He really didn’t want to, but he likes me. Although he did warn me that if this came back to bite him, I’d be checking parking meters until I retired.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’ll help that you’re back with the FBI. He’s not like some who get defensive about territory. He welcomes any help he can get.”
A faint smile crossed his face, then faded. “Is your reluctance because of Neil?”
Katie stared at him, taken aback by his bluntness. Then a small kernel of anger formed in her belly. She curled her fingers into fists then had to make a concentrated effort to relax. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t want to talk to him. Not totally, anyway. “Yes, it’s partly because of Neil. I didn’t really expect Erica to give this case to you.” Erica James, the director of Finding the Lost, was one of Katie’s closest friends. “She knows what happened with Neil and—and I just—” She broke off and swallowed hard. “Although I suppose it makes the most sense with your FBI connections.” She frowned. “I can drive.”
“That’s all right, I don’t mind. Where will you and Mariah stay until you get this cleaned up?”
“Good question.” Relieved not to talk about his brother just yet, Katie pulled her phone out and started to dial Mariah’s number when she heard a car pull into the drive. She walked out onto the front porch to see her roommate climb from her vehicle.
Mariah spotted Jordan and waved. “Hey, you two, what’s going on?” Jordan and Mariah had met once when Jordan had come by to pick up information regarding her sister’s kidnapping.
“We had a break-in,” Katie said.
Mariah’s pretty green eyes went wide. “A break-in? Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Katie assured her, then explained what had happened. “But it’s pretty bad inside. I think we need to find another place to stay until a cleaning crew can come out here.” She paused. “Although your room looks fine. He didn’t get that far.”
Jordan said, “He just raced out the French doors. But your stuff didn’t look touched.”
Mariah bit her lip and tucked a stray hunk of chocolate-brown hair behind her ear. “You think he’ll come back?”
“No, we caught him. But the kitchen and den area aren’t livable right now. He slashed the cushions and—”
Mariah rushed past her and into the house. Her outraged cry made Katie grimace. Her roommate raced to Katie’s bedroom, then the office and finally her own bedroom. Tears stood in her friend’s eyes. “I don’t want to stay here. And you can’t. He slashed up your mattress.”
“I