Detective on Call

by Regan Black

  Being rude, even to him, made her feel small and petty. “Would you like a glass of water?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She filled a second glass and carried both back to the counter. For several minutes he was quiet, sipping his water and watching the crew finish. When her doorbell rang, she groaned. “That’s probably my twin.”

  “Let me get it,” he offered, striding away.

  Why argue? At least his absence, however brief, gave her a reprieve from more questions. And from this vantage point, she could enjoy the view without getting caught ogling the enemy. The man was tall and well built, and his dark jeans fitted his long legs and firm backside perfectly.

  Detective Iglesias walked back into view with another man at his side, slightly older, a few inches shorter and thicker through the middle. But the twinkle in the older man’s eyes and the wavy brown hair gave her the impression they were related.

  “Pippa, this is my uncle, Carlos. He’s here to replace the lock on your back door.”

  Carlos held out his hand. “A pleasure,” he said, beaming as she shook his hand. “A few minutes and I’ll be out of your way.”

  “Um,” she stared at the locksmith, then at his nephew. “I thought maintenance handled this kind of thing.”

  Carlos glanced at his nephew, and getting a go-ahead nod, scooted down the hall.

  “Detective Iglesias,” she snapped. “You can’t just do that.”

  “What?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

  She wasn’t buying it. “Take over.” Griffin had put him in her way and her brother would hear about it. “This is my home.”

  His dark brown eyes swept over the kitchen behind her. “I’m aware. Do you still plan to stay the night?”

  “Yes.” She pressed her lips together, seeing the trap as it snapped shut.

  “Then let Carlos handle the lock. If the building requires something different, you can deal with it in time, but I can’t allow you to stay if your home isn’t secure.”

  “Because of Griffin.”

  He shook his head and motioned for her to sit down at the counter. “Because when everyone clears out, you need to be able to rest with confidence.”

  Her mouth fell open. She only knew because he tapped her chin to close it. Of all the reasons he might have provided, that was the only one that guaranteed her cooperation. “Thank you,” she managed. That point where his finger had touched her chin tingled pleasantly. It took significant effort not to rub the sensation away. Definitely overtired.

  “Were you at the office all day?” he asked.

  This question didn’t feel like an interrogation, especially not with the warmth in his gaze. “No. I...” She looked up and her gaze collided with his, the words getting lost between her brain and her mouth. He seemed genuinely interested in her responses. In her.

  What was her problem? Of course he was interested. Anything she said would reveal too much about her attempt to overturn Anna’s conviction.

  “I drove to the women’s prison to see Anna Wentworth.”

  “How did that go?”

  She studied him. Was he playing dumb? “Seriously? I’m not about to discuss anything about that with you.”

  Whatever he might have said was cut short by the CSI team packing up to leave. They assured her she could clean up the house and that the detectives would get the reports as soon as possible.

  While Detective Iglesias walked them to the front door, Pippa refilled her water glass and pulled up the app for her insurance company. She could get started on the claim right now and have her agent come by first thing in the morning.

  “Pippa,” he called out. “Have you reset the code?”

  She wanted to snipe at him for making himself too much at home, but his uncle was still in earshot, and that would just make her look bad and confirm the rumors that Anna was rubbing off on her.

  Joining the detective at her door, stubbornly ignoring the state of her home, she stared at the electronic panel, trying to choose another code she and her twin could recall with ease. Making a decision to use her mom’s birthday, in reverse order, she tested the new code a couple of times.

  “That feels better, right?”

  “A little,” she admitted. Her gaze drifted back to the message, and she did her best to view it as a compliment. She was a do-gooder, and she wouldn’t apologize to anyone for living out her values.

  “I feel obligated to tell you not to give that code to anyone,” he said.

  “Someone has to have it. What if my plants need water?” All of her plants were silk and would stay that way until she was ready to make more time for her personal life. Only the aloe vera in the kitchen managed to thrive, despite her neglect.

  “You can program multiple codes. We recommend you only hand out one spare key and only when necessary.”

  “The whole safety lesson is great, but the intruder didn’t come in this way.”

  “We’ll sort out how he got into the building as we review the video from the security cameras,” he promised. “Now can you talk me through this, please?”

  “Detective—”

  “Call me Emmanuel.”

  She would not. That was too familiar, too normal. As much as she might appreciate the potential of him on a personal level, he was a threat to her case. To her career goals. If she thought the media attention was difficult now, it would be impossible if it came out that she was on a first-name basis with the detective who put her client in jail.

  “Pippa—” He raised his hands in surrender when she glared at him. “Miss Colton. I’d like to pin down more details while things are fresh in your mind.”

  She feared the wrong details were crystallizing while the important things were becoming a blur. All the urgency to find the intruder that flooded her system an hour ago was gone now that the adrenaline rush was over. “Let’s finish this in the morning. I’ll come to the station.” She looked around at the mess and somehow managed not to swear or cry. “I have too much cleaning left tonight.”

  “Emmanuel will help.” Carlos had a sparkle in his eye when he volunteered his nephew. “My sister raised you right,” he said to Emmanuel. “You can ask your questions while you are helping.” With a broad smile, he handed Pippa two keys. “One for you and one for the building staff. Assuming you trust them.”

  “I do.” Or she had. Still did. Maybe. Good grief, her brain felt like oatmeal. “Thank you. Do you take checks?” She started for her office, picking her way through the debris to the drawer where she kept her checkbook. Pulling it open, she was relieved to see everything still there, if not as neat as she’d left it, confirming the motive for someone making this mess wasn’t fraud or theft.

  “You okay?” the detective asked.

  “Yes,” she lied through the fatigue. “How much do I owe you?” She looked up when Carlos didn’t answer. The older man was gone, leaving her alone with his nephew. “I didn’t pay him.”

  “He said he’ll send an invoice.”

  “I didn’t hear that.”

  “You zoned out for a minute.” He approached her as if he thought she might fly apart at any second. He might be right. “When was the last time you had something more than water?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea.” Where was the grit that had carried her through the death of her parents, long nights of law school and that nasty breakup just before she sat for the bar exam?

  Her siblings were an invaluable source of support, and she loved them for it, but she couldn’t rely solely on them. Not when they were all consumed with Brody, RevitaYou and the Capital X investigation.

  “You don’t want me here, but I’m not leaving you alone.”

  She had the absurd urge to thank him. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course you will. But my uncle will flay me if I leave you to handle this b
y yourself.” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over a stool at the counter. His button-down was open at the collar, and she was mesmerized as he rolled back the cuffs, revealing strong, tanned forearms dusted with dark hair. “Go change clothes or whatever. I’ll figure out food.”

  What was happening? “Your family is big on service?”

  He shot her a look. “You could say that.”

  She’d touched a nerve, but she was just too tired to understand which one.

  Chapter 4

  Emmanuel put his focus on feeding Pippa, hoping she’d wander off while he rummaged through her kitchen for something fast and hearty. She needed fuel. The woman was running on fumes. But still running, which was impressive.

  He found cereal in the cabinet and milk in the fridge along with some fresh fruit and orange juice. As if a stranger hadn’t done enough invading tonight, he kept digging and came up with a better meal plan when he found frozen vegetables, eggs and some precooked sausage patties.

  He didn’t want to like her. She sure didn’t like him. He was fine with her as just Griffin’s sister. And he understood her work was important to the legal system overall, even when that meant second-guessing good police work. When he heard the water in the pipes between the walls, he had to force his mind away from the images of her stripping away her professional clothes and stepping into the shower.

  All woman, no pretense. And completely off-limits.

  Not just because he valued his friendship with her brother and wanted to keep the peace with her sister in the crime scene unit. Pippa was also several years younger and a whole lot less jaded.

  The sausage was sizzling in one skillet, and he had another pan heating while he whisked up eggs in a bowl, adding ground pepper and the vegetables. When she walked in, her hair was down, the light brown waves brushing her shoulders, and she’d changed into faded jeans and a soft blue T-shirt. His pulse tripped over itself, his fingers itching to discover if her hair was as soft as it looked. He caught himself and pointed to a glass of orange juice. “That’s for you.”

  She stared at him, her lips tight and her brow furrowed. “You’re cooking?”

  Was that bristling reaction her default with everyone or just him? “As I said.” He poured the egg mixture into the pan.

  “You said you’d figure it out.”

  “I did. This is faster than delivery.”

  “If you say so.” She picked up the juice glass and drank it down. “This smells good.”

  His shoulders relaxed with the compliment, and he hid his smile. Hopefully the meal would fortify her for the many questions as well as the cleanup ahead of them.

  Loading up two plates, he brought them to the countertop. She set out the napkins and forks while he refilled their water glasses. “Did you want coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” she replied. “I had more than enough caffeine during the drive today.”

  The drive to the prison. He had questions about that, but he didn’t want to ruin the meal for her.

  At her first bite of the omelet, she sat back and closed her eyes. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

  It beat the cold burger and fries waiting for him in the car. With so much going on with the RevitaYou crisis, he hadn’t taken much time with friends and even less trying to date. He’d almost forgotten how nice it was to share a meal with a pretty woman.

  When her plate was clean, there was more color in her cheeks and the spark was back in those big green eyes. Turning to face the office, she crossed her legs, and he noticed her feet were bare. They were slender, like the rest of her, and her toenails were painted with a deep rosy pink. What a contrast to her sleek professional image. The simple awareness took on the weight of a privileged secret.

  “What a mess,” she muttered.

  “Definitely a focused effort there,” Emmanuel agreed. He started to clear the dishes, but she stopped him.

  “You cooked. Let me do this.” She cleaned the dishes with an efficiency his mother would appreciate.

  “Where are the cleaning supplies?” he asked.

  “Hall closet.” He found what passed as her laundry room with a stacked washer and dryer, a pull-down drying rack and a shelving unit. “You’ll want to put shoes on before you go in there again.”

  “Hey, Detective?” She was behind him, paused at her bedroom doorway. “I don’t need another big brother.”

  Right. He wasn’t feeling brotherly. Uneasy with his not-at-all-fraternal reaction to her, he gave her a nod and then pulled out the broom and dustpan along with a couple of trash bags. He started in the living room so she wouldn’t think he was trying to interfere with her work.

  He was carefully sweeping up broken picture frames when she joined him. For a second he thought the scowl was for him, but her gaze was on the wall.

  “I can’t believe you walked into this,” he said quietly.

  “Me neither.” She tiptoed over to the wall and swore. “I thought so.”

  “What is it?” He helped her lift up a large framed painting of a sunset over a lake.

  “The jerk tagged this too,” she said, clearly disgusted. “Can you put it near the door? I’ll take it for repair and reframing tomorrow.”

  He did as she asked, taking a closer look at the piece. It was definitely a statement by size as well as subject. The soft-focus blur of trees, vibrant with autumn color, tucked up close to the edge of the lake was calming. In fact, her home must have had a comfortable vibe before the vandal blew through. The colors and fabrics she’d decorated with were gentle and soothing, and nothing he would’ve expected from the stern and stressed woman from a few hours ago.

  “It’s not quite as bad as I thought,” she said.

  “Is that a joke?” he wondered.

  She gave him a genuine smile and the unexpected rush left him momentarily speechless. “I thought the cushions were destroyed, but the upholstery is only unzipped,” she said, wrestling foam back into the fabric. “You have no idea how long it took me to find this couch.”

  “It’s a big decision,” he agreed. “When I bought mine, I could’ve skipped squats for a week with all the ups and downs.”

  “Exactly!”

  She brought out the vacuum and cleared away any small bits of glass, and they soon had the couch back to normal.

  “I can work in here if you’d rather get started on your office,” he offered. Maybe she’d have an easier time with his questions if there was a bit of distance and distraction. “You need to be sure nothing’s missing.”

  “You mean like my files?”

  “Yes.” The glass clinked as he swept it into the dustpan. “I assume you took your computer with you.”

  “I didn’t,” she replied. “But my laptop and all of my case notes are secure.”

  He glanced across the room. “At the office?”

  “No, in the floor safe.”

  “Seriously?” He was impressed by her security measures. Maybe he shouldn’t have given her a hard time about the lock.

  “Yes.” She was distracted by a stuck drawer in her desk. “This piece was my grandmother’s,” she muttered. “This drawer is a bear to reopen when it gets closed all the way.”

  He walked over, about to offer an assist, when the drawer gave and she stumbled back, right into him. His hands spanned the sweet dip of her trim waist, and he breathed in the faint citrus fragrance of her hair.

  “Thanks,” she said, an adorable rosy color rising in her cheeks.

  “Anything missing?”

  “Not so far, but the vandal was definitely searching.”

  He retreated to the other room, unable to hold back the flood of questions any longer. “Did you call the police immediately?”

  “Sort of. At first I tried to talk myself out of dialing the emergency line due to the lack of imminent danger. Then I called Kiely. She�
�s a private investigator. But she was tied up with another case tonight.”

  “I’ve met her,” he said. “Never had the pleasure of working with her.”

  “Your loss. Should’ve called her in on the Wentworth case when you needed a hand.”

  He bit his tongue rather than wreck a few positive steps by snapping at her. They hadn’t needed any help on that case. The evidence had been clear, all of it leading to one specific guilty party. “Who knew you were headed to the prison today?”

  “Kiely, my clients and my paralegal at the office.” She’d cleared her desktop and was wiping it down.

  He dragged his gaze away from the little flash of skin that showed between her shirt and jeans when she stretched. “By client, you mean Anna Wentworth?”

  “Yes. Along with her daughter, who is overseeing this effort and footing the bill.”

  He had all the big pieces of glass picked up and was now vacuuming the smaller bits.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she called out over the sound. “I’ll call a professional cleaning crew tomorrow.”

  He ignored her, determined to make the space around the couch safe for her bare feet. “Why did you take Anna Wentworth’s case?” he asked when he finished.

  “Aside from the retainer?”

  “It’s okay to be financially motivated,” he said, unfazed by her sarcasm. “You’re not the only lawyer making more money by taking on a wealthy lost cause.”

  The bristling and scowling returned in force. “She is not a lost cause, and I will prove it.”

  He spread his arms, as frustrated as she was with all of this. “Do enlighten me.”

  “Fine.” She leaned back on her clean desk. “First of all, Elizabeth is a good friend from school and I’ve known the family for years. Anna might be an awful snob who is happier writing a check than investing any real energy, but she isn’t capable of murder. Plus, I don’t take on loser cases. Not even for a friend.”

  “At least tell me Wentworth is grateful you’re on board.”

  “I wish I could.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m sure Elizabeth told her about hiring me, but today was supposed to be our first meeting about the case.”