Love Can Be Murder

colors."
    The best news she'd heard in what seemed like years. She swallowed and nodded gratefully.
    "You and Ms. Ryder be in my office Monday afternoon, prepared to tell the truth."
    She nodded again.
    "As for you," Detective Jaffey said to Capistrano. "Since you were in South Bend on police business, we're going to pretend that you were actually invited to help us on this case while you were here. As far as the public is concerned, you were acting on behalf of our police department when you shot Cape. When you return to Biloxi, you'll be placed on desk duty for the minimum time required by our department after a shooting, which is forty-five days."
    Capistrano nodded and rose to shake Jaffey's hand. "Sounds fair."
    "It's a goddamn gift," the man said, returning a brief shake. "I also want you to get the hell out of my town first thing in the morning."
    "Agreed."
    "All right, both of you, get out of here before we change our minds."
    Roxann bolted to her feet and headed for the door. Capistrano thanked the men again and led the way out of the station. They didn't speak until they were in the Dooley, shivering and waiting for the engine to warm up and the windshield to de-ice. "That was close," he said.
    The understatement of the century, she thought, utterly weak with relief that Carl's murderer had been caught and Melissa Cape had been let off the hook—the woman would probably be relieved when she discovered her ex-husband was dead.
    But deep down, Roxann harbored a selfish little flame—the secret she and Angora had maintained for years hadn't come to light after all. It had been a fluke that Cape had chosen a blond wig to attach to the dashboard of her van. She had simply overreacted, reading more into the deed than was warranted. She was safe from everything but herself.
    "About the hotel room," Capistrano said, putting the truck into gear.
    "Don't worry—I'm too tired and too cold to argue."
    He didn't argue with her not arguing, but the drive to the hotel took a long time since he had to watch for icy spots. "What was it like going to school here?" he asked.
    "It was heaven," she said. "I loved every minute of it. The campus is so beautiful, and the atmosphere...I can't explain it—everyone was so hungry to learn and experience things. I'd never known intellectual freedom like that before. I know it's a huge campus, but it seemed intimate when I was here. Like we were in a little world of our own. I didn't want to leave." She smiled. "I know that sounds silly. Did you go to college?"
    He nodded. "Criminology, Mississippi State. But I couldn't wait to get out and go to the police academy."
    "Do you like what you do?"
    "Most days I love what I do. And even on off days, I can't imagine anything I'd like better."
    "That must be nice, to have found your calling."
    "Haven't you found yours?"
    She shook her head. "I resigned from the Rescue program."
    "Why?"
    "Because I'm not convinced that my contribution is making a difference. I sort of feel like a stick in a bucket of water—if you took it out, no one would know it had ever been there."
    "Ah, but you're concentrating on how the water was affected, and not the stick."
    She digested his response, wondering how much psychology a person had to study to earn a criminology degree.
    "So you're free to live anywhere?" he asked, wisely changing the subject.
    "I suppose."
    She waited for his comment, but he offered none, which was even more vexing. They traveled in silence the rest of the way. Her limbs sang with fatigue, and her jaw throbbed where Cape had hit her. Beneath the blanket, her clothes and shoes were still wet. A permanent chill had invaded her skin. She needed to call Angora, but she decided to wait until morning and perhaps deliver the good news in person. For now, she just wanted to be horizontal for several hours.
    She started peeling off wet clothes before he even unlocked the hotel room door. He'd already seen everything she had at close range, so modesty seemed pointless. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She sat down on the bed to remove her socks, then unhooked her bra.
    He came back out and jerked his thumb toward the open door. "You go first." But his gaze moved over her unabashedly.
    Roxann stood and walked to the bathroom door, then turned. "We could share."
    He started walking, removing his clothing along the way. She slipped into the shower first, wincing against the stinging needles of the hot water against her cold