If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

her out of those woods.
    But if the incident from last night had
anything
to do with what she was doing in the woods yesterday …
    Shit
.
    The drive home took too long, and yet, not long enough. He was still wracking his brain, trying to come up with ideas, plans, scenarios—things that normally never failed him.
    For once, though, his mind was blank.
    The silence between them was tense, heavy, as he parked behind the house, not bothering to put the car in the garage. He had a feeling they’d be heading over tosee Ezra sometime that afternoon, so what was the point?
    He tucked the keys in his pocket after he unlocked the back door, automatically reprogramming the alarm system he’d had installed after what had happened months ago with him and Hope. Nia came in behind him, sauntering into the house with her hands tucked into her back pockets. As she moved over to the island, he shot a glance at the key rack where he kept the keys to the other cars.
    Shit.
    He grabbed them, tucked them into his pocket, too—he always kept the two spare keys there even though Hope had a set herself. Couldn’t make it that easy for Nia to take off running if she got pissed, right? Not that she’d ever do anything that impulsive, he thought sardonically.
    She gave him a quizzical glance, which he ignored in favor of the liquor cabinet.
    He needed a drink. A strong one. Screw heading over to Ezra’s—Ezra could come here.
    “Want a drink?” he asked as he pulled the whiskey out of the cabinet.
    “Sure.” She grimaced and said, “I’ll take the whiskey with some Coke, if you’ve got it. Whatever has your boxers in a twist probably isn’t going to improve my mood.”
    He sighed. “Sorry. I … shit, my brain doesn’t track too well when I’m distracted. Gets worse when I’m worried or pissed. Right now, it’s both.” He fell silent as he made her drink, then his own. She got Coke and ice for hers—he drank his straight. It burned a line down his throat, but it didn’t do a damn thing to ease the knots in his belly.
    “Come on,” he said after he topped his drink off. “Some of the shit is going to take me a few minutes to find.”
    *   *   *
     
    A few minutes?
    Hell, Nia thought, two hours later, while she listened to a one-sided conversation—how about a few
hours
?
    “You sure? Damn it, I thought I’d checked there—yeah, yeah, okay.”
    He hung up the phone and sighed. “Hope rearranged everything, has my maps filed up in the attic.”
    “We just spent an hour in the attic.”
    He scowled. “Yeah, but I wasn’t looking in a file. Was going through the boxes where I’d dumped it all.”
    Nia shoved off the doorjamb, eyeing the office with no small level of curiosity as Law headed toward her. “So what’s the office used for? You don’t seem to use it.”
    He stopped dead in his tracks, and unless she was mistaken, his face went a little pale and his eyes went dark and flat. Then he gave her a grim smile. “No. No, I don’t use it. Not anymore.”
    “Why not?”
    He turned his head. Automatically, she followed the direction of his gaze with her eyes, but she didn’t know what he was seeing.
    “Just how far back did you go when you were reading about Joe Carson, Nia?” he asked quietly.
    “Pretty far,” she said, shrugging. Abruptly, it hit her. Shock stiffened her body and although she couldn’t see whatever Law saw in his memories, she knew what he was looking at.
    That empty space on the floor—it was where the deputy had died. He’d been murdered … in this room.
    Wincing, she said, “This is where the deputy died, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah.” Law was rubbing his forearm.
    She wondered if he even noticed. Unable to take the dark, tormented look on his face, she made herself take the first step into the room—it hadn’t bothered her justa few minutes ago, but now, well, she didn’t want to be in there. She did it, though. One step in front of the other, until she was close to him, close enough to reach out, offering her hand. “Come on. You still need to show me these maps that have you so worked up.”
    He gave her a tight smile. “Worked up?”
    “Yeah. Worked up, stressed, boxers in a twist.”
    “I think I left the boxers at your place,” he murmured.
    “Damn, I think you’re right. You’re commando under those jeans.” She winked at him. “Now how am I supposed to focus on anything?”
    When she tugged on his hand, he followed along, shutting the door snugly