If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

grimaced, absently reaching down to rub his leg. “I’m the somebody else.”
    “So maybe that’s why you’re not throwing me out on my ass. You haven’t been involved in this from the get-go.” She inclined her head as she spoke.
    Ezra grinned at her. “Oh, no. Make no mistake. I couldn’t have been any more
involved
in this if I’d asked. And I didn’t ask—didn’t want it, either. Now that you’re done stalling, why don’t you tell me just why you think I need to find a killer when the record says he’s already been found … found dead, by the way?”
    A straight shooter, Nia surmised.
    A drop-dead gorgeous one, too. Under normal circumstances, she’d like to see him in front of her camera. Those deep green eyes, that wide, somewhat wicked smile.
    But Nia’s life was so far from normal … Still trying to find the words, she looked around his office. Absently, she glanced down, saw the glint of gold on his hand. “You’re married.”
    “Yep. Few months ago. And you’re still stalling.”
    “Not … stalling. Formulating.” Nervously, she rose from the chair and started to pace. Her messenger bag bumped against her hip as she did and she rested a hand on it, on the files inside. “This … shit. I was out here before, back when Sheriff Nielson was trying to find my cousin’s killer. Did you hear about that?”
    A faint grin curved Ezra’s mouth up. “Enough to hear that you’ve got a mean right hook.”
    “I take it you and Reilly are friends.” She blushed hotly and looked away.
    “Of a sort. Yeah, I guess. He’s one of my wife’s best friends. And because I love her, I try not to hate him.”
    Curious, she glanced back at him. “Ah, why would you hate him for being friends with her?”
    “Because he had a thing for her when I first moved here.” Then he scowled. “Shit, you got a way of making people tell you things, you know that.”
    He glanced down, studying a picture frame on his desk.
    Nia followed his gaze. “Is that your wife?”
    He nodded.
    Nia waited, but he didn’t hold it out to her. She lifted a brow. “May I see?”
    “You don’t want to see.” There was something in his voice … something strained, she realized.
    It made a shiver of cold race down her spine for reasons she couldn’t understand.
    “Why not?” Nia asked, ignoring the voice that whispered,
Leave it alone
.
    Ezra studied her face with narrowed eyes. “Did you come out here to talk about your cousin or study my wedding picture? I’m just curious.”
    “The case. But now I’m curious why you think I shouldn’t see the picture.” She ambled up to the desk, reaching out, slowly, deliberately.
    Ezra didn’t stop her as she traced a finger down the smooth crystal, then lifted it. It was the fancy sort of frame somebody would buy as a wedding gift—heavy and solid and expensive.
    “It will hurt you,” Ezra said quietly. He reached out, wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “I promise you that.”
    Then he shifted his gaze to hers, and once more, she saw the compassion there. Swallowing, she tugged away from his grasp, still holding the picture. At first, her brain couldn’t quite process what she was seeing. Not at first.
    It was a trick—had to be. The framed picture was a collage. The largest image was like a punch straight to her gut and she almost doubled over from the pain.
    The second image showed the woman with her back to the photographer, a pale, smooth back. That alone had Nia biting her lip, hard enough to draw blood.
It’s not her, girl. It’s not her, it’s not Joely … it’s not, it’s not …
Her back, long and slim, left bare by her wedding dress. Nia could see her shoulders, and they were unmarked, pale as porcelain.
    No butterfly tattoo.
    The strength drained out of Nia’s legs and if the sheriff hadn’t come around the desk, she might have ended up on her ass, right there on the floor.
    He caught her arm, eased her back. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, catching the frame as it slipped from her numb fingers.
    “Who … who is that?”
    “It’s my wife,” he said gently.
    Nia lifted her head, staring at him, feeling so battered, so drained. “Your … your wife. She’s your wife.”
    “Yeah. I can’t imagine how much it hurts. When I—when I first saw the picture of your cousin, I couldn’t quite get over it myself. That’s why I didn’t really want you seeing her picture.”
    “She—I, well.” Nia nodded, pressed her