by Lara Lacombe
“It was.” She held his gaze, kept her voice cool. “But there’s more to life than money. Don’t you agree?”
For the barest second, heat flared in his eyes, burning bright and hot. His mouth softened, becoming a seductive curve, and his eyelids dropped slightly, giving him the look of a man who had been well and truly satisfied. She shivered, her skin prickling at the wild thought that she had been the one to satisfy him.
Then his expression shifted, returning to an inscrutable mask she couldn’t read. She shook herself free of the moment, still feeling a little dazed. Get a grip! she told herself. He isn’t the first handsome man you’ve talked to, and he won’t be the last. Besides, she had no business letting her libido run the show when he was here to question her about people dying.
“Can’t argue with that,” Detective Gallagher piped up. His smile was friendly, and she felt herself relax. “Still, people don’t usually walk away from that much money without a good reason.”
Hannah shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “I had gotten burned out by the hours I was working. I wanted to slow down, find someone, start a family.”
Detective Randall’s eyes flicked to her left hand, then back to her face. “And have you?” His voice was so low the question was almost a rumble, making it seem even more personal.
A lump suddenly appeared in her throat, and she swallowed hard to push it down. “Not yet,” she replied. Jake, her ex-fiancé, had left once he’d learned how long her recovery would take. She’d pushed the pain of his betrayal aside and directed all her energy toward healing, but now she was finding it hard to ignore. The worst part of all was the despair, a swirling black hole in her stomach that threatened to consume her soul. She felt scarred both inside and out, and it was becoming increasingly clear that she was destined to be alone. Who would want her? It was hard enough finding a man who wanted to date a chemist. The men she encountered seemed to be intimidated by her intelligence, a reaction that made it hard to get a second date. And even if she did manage to find a man who wasn’t bothered by her intellect, there was no guarantee he’d be okay with the extensive scarring on her back. Pushing back the familiar feelings of loss and loneliness, Hannah pasted on a bright smile. “I’m sure you’re not here to talk about my personal life, Detectives. Why don’t you tell me what you think I can do to help you today.”
* * *
She was smart, that much was obvious. They didn’t just hand out PhD’s in chemistry, and from what he knew of her work in industry, Hannah Baker had been the leading expert on nitrogen mustard compounds. Why had she walked away from such a high-paying job? Her story about wanting to slow down just didn’t ring true—it sounded too rehearsed, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him. He made a mental note to ask Dr. Whitman, the medical examiner, for more details. He knew the two of them were friends. Perhaps she could shed more light on why Hannah Baker had dropped out of the corporate world to hide at this small college.
“Are these chemicals commonly available?” Nate leaned forward slightly, shifting in the chair. Dr. Baker turned her attention to him, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. He glanced at Nate, but the other man showed no reaction.
“Not really.” She frowned slightly. “There are companies that supply chemicals for research, and you could purchase some of the compounds from them. But there are certain restrictions in place that prevent an individual from ordering chemicals.”
“How hard would it be to falsify information, to skirt around the supplier’s security?”
Her hazel eyes were steady on his, but he didn’t miss the subtle tightening at the corners of her mouth and eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried. You’d have to ask them.”
“Let’s say someone did manage to order these chemicals,” Nate broke in. “How much would it take to kill a person?”
“Not much. They’re highly toxic.”
“Tell me about how they work,” Nate encouraged.
She was reluctant at first, but after a few moments, she warmed to her subject, and her enthusiasm began to shine through. She was a patient and thorough teacher, answering questions and explaining complicated topics with ease, and Owen was forced to admit that regardless of her real reasons for taking the job, Hannah Baker had a gift for teaching.
He was content to let Nate steer the questioning. For some reason, Dr. Baker seemed more comfortable interacting with the other man. Her obvious preference for his new partner irked him a little, but he wasn’t about to let his ego get in the way of collecting information. With the way this case was going, they needed all the help they could get.
The woman was animated, her slender, graceful hands moving in a fluid series of gestures as she spoke. Every once in a while, one of those hands would briefly land on her neck before taking flight again. It was a gesture he’d noticed before, her seeming preoccupation with the collar of her turtleneck. Why was that? Was she nervous? Was she trying to hide something?
She sounded genuine, he mused. She answered Nate’s questions without hesitation, showing no signs of evasion or lying. Why, then, did she keep fiddling with the neck of her sweater? And who wore a turtleneck during a Houston spring? The temperatures were already in the mideighties, with the humidity so high it made him wish he had gills. Most people were breaking out the shorts, skirts and sleeveless tops, not turtleneck sweaters. What was she hiding?
Owen focused on her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the skin underneath. It wasn’t a bad way to spend a few minutes, studying the smooth column of skin, the elegant lines. That spot just under the ear, so sensitive to his mouth. He let his thoughts drift, imagined peeling down the fabric of Dr. Baker’s sweater, exposing the pale expanse of her throat. He’d use his tongue to trace along her skin, down to her collarbone. She probably had nice collarbones, he thought. Gentle, sloping lines begging for his touch. He could practically feel them under his lips, hear her breathless moans as he slowly stripped away her clothes. She was so prim and put together, it would be a real pleasure to find out what she was concealing underneath that sweater.
“Owen?”
The sound of his name snapped him out of his reverie, and he shook his head slightly, focusing on his partner. Nate and Dr. Baker were both staring at him, their expressions making it clear they’d been trying to get his attention for some time. Damn.
“What?”
Dr. Baker tensed, and he mentally cursed himself for being so gruff. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else for a moment. What do you need?”
Nate didn’t press, but he could see the concern in the other man’s eyes. Great. He’d heard the rumors swirling, knew Nate had, as well. After Owen’s partner had died in the line of duty six months ago, he’d taken a leave of absence to handle the loss. A lot of people thought he shouldn’t have come back. Was his new partner one of them?
“Dr. Baker was just offering to look at the chemical signatures of the compounds found in our victims.”
“If I can see what they had in their systems, I can tell you if the drug was purchased from a company, or if someone modified the compounds to create something even more potent,” she said.
“That would be great,” he replied. “Thank you.”
She nodded, her cheeks taking on a pretty, pale pink color. Her hand found her neck again, and he forced himself to tear his gaze away before he slipped back into his highly inappropriate daydream.
It was fatigue, he decided. Too many hours focused on this case, too many cups of coffee, too little sleep. Throw in a beautiful woman, and his brain took the path of least resistance, concocting a fantasy he had no business enjoying when there were bodies piling up.
Time to go, before he did something stupid.
He stood, and a second later, Nate did the same. “Thank you for your time, Doctor.” He offered her his hand, tried not to notice the smooth softness of her ski
n when she took it. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Let me know what else I can do to help,” she said. Nate nodded, and they walked out of her office, leaving her standing behind her desk watching them go, her hand at her neck.
* * *
“She’s prettier than I expected.”
Owen bristled at his partner’s casual remark. While Nate Gallagher was by all accounts a good guy, he didn’t like the thought that the other man had noticed Hannah Baker in anything other than a professional capacity. Like you should talk, he thought wryly.
Biting his tongue to contain the reflexive retort, Owen settled for a grunt, hoping Nate would drop the subject.
He didn’t take the hint.
“I mean, I didn’t expect her to be so young. Silly of me, since Doc Whitman isn’t that old herself. But I heard the word professor and pictured some gray-haired woman in support hose. Know what I mean?”
Owen grunted again, refusing to engage.
“Do you think she’s seeing anyone?”
“How should I know?” He sounded sour, even to his own ears, but Nate carried on as if he hadn’t noticed.
“I think she likes me. It felt like we had a connection back there. Maybe I should ask her out.”
Owen’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “No,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean, no?”
He cut a glance over to his partner. “It wouldn’t be professional of you. Besides, she might somehow be involved in all this.”
“Oh, please,” Nate scoffed. “You and I both know that she’s not a suspect. There’s no conflict of interest here. Besides,” he added, his voice taking on a smug note, “I wasn’t the one daydreaming about her during the questioning.”
Damn. It had been obvious, then. Still, his pride wouldn’t let him admit his partner was right. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do,” Nate said. “We’ve been partners now for over two months, and in all that time, you’ve never once mentioned a wife, a girlfriend or even a one-night stand. You’re lonely. Would it be so bad if you let your guard down and enjoyed the company of a beautiful woman?”
“There’s no time.”
“So multitask. Take the professor out for dinner and ask her about the chemicals. That’s got to be every woman’s dream date.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “I thought you were going to ask her out.”
“Nah. I was just trying to yank your chain. Besides, she’s not interested in me.”
“What makes you think she’s interested in me?” As soon as the words were out, Owen wished he could take them back. This wasn’t junior high, and he really shouldn’t care if Hannah Baker liked him.
But he did care. And he wanted to hear confirmation that his attraction to her wasn’t one-sided. It was juvenile of him, but he needed that reassurance. Nate was right—he was lonely. And even though he had no intention of starting anything with the woman, it would be nice to know he had the option.
“For starters, she kept watching you. You were too spaced out to notice, but the whole time she was talking to me, she was glancing at you, looking for your reaction to what she was saying. And she kept touching her neck.”
“You noticed that, too?”
He saw Nate nod out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. But what’s with the turtleneck? Kind of a strange choice, given the weather we’ve been having.”
Owen tapped his fingers against the wheel. “I was wondering that myself. Think she’s hiding something?”
Nate considered the question for a moment. “Could be. But I don’t see her being involved in these deaths. We’ve been fishing bodies out of the bayou every seven days like clockwork. And while she may have the upper-body strength to overpower the smaller victims, there’s no way she could have handled that bruiser we found two days ago.”
“Good point. But she could have had help.”
“Besides,” Nate went on, ignoring him, “what these victims went through after they died...” He shuddered briefly. “It takes a lot of isolated space to inflict that kind of damage. Not to mention time. And she hasn’t been missing work, or acting unusual.”
“Again, she could have a partner.” Owen didn’t believe it, either, but they did have to consider every possibility, no matter how remote.
Nate gave him a droll look. “Uh-huh. And I have a Lamborghini in the garage.”
Owen merely shrugged.
“You know as well as I do that she’s not involved. She doesn’t have it in her to do that to someone.”
“I hope you’re right. We still need to look into it though.”
His partner let out an inelegant snort. “Don’t sound so broken up about it.”
Owen ignored the gibe, but he didn’t try to hide the smile that curved his lips. The thought of seeing the lovely professor again gave him something to look forward to, and given the way this case was going, he’d take his pleasure where he could find it.
Chapter 2
The Harris County Institute of Forensic Science was a six-story redbrick cube on a tree-lined street near the Medical City area of Houston. Hannah parked in one of the visitor spaces and made her way to Gabby’s office, where she found her friend typing madly and staring at her computer monitor wearing an expression of fierce concentration.
Hannah hovered in the doorway, waiting for a break to interrupt Gabby. It didn’t take long. With a few muttered curses, Gabby punched at the keyboard, then leaned back, her brows drawn down in a frown. Seeing her chance, Hannah coughed quietly.
Gabby looked up, her scowl melting into a smile when she saw Hannah. “Hey! Come on in.”
Hannah stepped into the small office and extended her arm, offering Gabby the extra cup of coffee she’d brought. “You sure I’m not interrupting?”
Her friend took the cup and gestured to a chair across from her desk. “Saving me, more like. I’m up to my eyeballs in reports.” She took a sip, closed her eyes in appreciation. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem. I figured you could use some caffeine.”
“You know it. So how’d it go yesterday?”
Hannah sat in the lumpy chair and shifted to find a comfortable position. “It would have gone a lot better if I’d listened to your message first. I was totally thrown by the whole thing.”
Gabby grimaced in sympathy. “Sorry about that. I should have texted you, too, but I didn’t have time. Were they at least nice to you?”
“I suppose. One more than the other.”
“Let me guess—Detective Gallagher was friendlier?”
“You got it.”
Gabby nodded and set her cup on the desk. “I figured. Detective Randall can be a little...intense.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Goose bumps broke out on her arms as she recalled the feeling of his dark blue eyes on her. “What’s his story?” She tried to make the question sound casual, but she and Gabby had been friends for a long time, and the other woman didn’t miss a trick.
“Oh, so it’s like that?” she teased. Hannah rolled her eyes and looked away, shaking her head.
“Seriously, Hannah. I’m glad you’re showing some interest. How long has it been since you’ve gone on a date?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, exasperation bleeding into her voice. “About a year, maybe?”
“Probably more like a year and a half,” Gabby retorted. “I know you haven’t seen anyone since Jake the Snake left.” She took a sip of her coffee and muttered, “Good riddance.”
Hannah smiled despite the pang that stabbed through her chest at the thought of her ex-fiancé. “Since when are you so obsessed with my love life?”
“Since you’re my friend and I care about you.” Gabby gave her a level stare, then smiled. “I j
ust want you to be happy. And while I don’t know much about Detective Broody McGrumpyPants, he is handsome. You could definitely do worse.”
“I didn’t say I was going to be doing anything,” Hannah protested weakly.
Gabby gave her a wicked smile. “Oh, but you should. Doing things can be so much fun.”
“Gabby!” Hannah chastised. “Don’t be so vulgar.”
Her friend’s laugh was full-throated and rich, and it filled the room in a warm wave of sound. “Oh, honey. We’re not in a British period piece. Lighten up a bit.” She picked up her coffee and winked at her. “You’re too young to be so prim.”
Hannah focused on her own coffee, hoping the steam would explain the sudden redness in her cheeks. Gabby had always been the more outgoing one, quick with a clever comeback or play on words. Sometimes Hannah envied her friend’s ability to think on her feet. She was more deliberate, more cautious in her approach to conversations. Where Gabby was outgoing and friendly, Hannah was reserved and shy. More than once, she had marveled at their unlikely friendship, but at the end of the day, she knew their bond was unbreakable.
“Why don’t you tell me about these victims?”
Gabby leaned back in her chair, her playful smile fading as she turned her focus to business. “I don’t have much to share, unfortunately. There have been six deaths so far, one every week, and the pathology findings suggest they’re linked.”
“In what way?”
“The victims all suffered extensive trauma, and a lot of it occurred after death.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen some pretty terrible things in my job, but these victims really take the cake.”
Hannah grimaced, revulsion making her stomach roil. “If the injuries were that severe, why did you look for chemical traces?”
“Because I think the extensive external injuries were inflicted to distract from the real cause of death.”
“And you found something?” It was a silly question—of course she had. That’s why the detectives had paid her a visit yesterday.
Gabby bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “Yep. I’m really good at my job.”