Body Heat. Carly Phillips

floors and chipped-paint walls, it had been the place he’d called home for many years. He’d joined the force straight out of state college and never looked back. Until now.

      Nodding as he passed people in the hall, Jake entered the squad room and pulled up a chair by a metal desk. “Hey, Duke.”

      “Jake, buddy, how are you doing?” Duke Russell, his good friend and fellow detective, slid his chair back and stood, clapping him on the back.

      Jake swallowed hard and refrained from wincing. “Hanging in.” He settled himself into a nearby chair. “Any news on Ramirez?” Duke and Steve Vickers were feeding Jake information.

      “We can keep this between us?”

      “Haven’t we always?”

      Duke nodded his head. “Nothing’s changed. Like I’ve been telling you, Ramirez walked out of the courtroom and, from all reports, he’s living a clean—albeit sleazy—life. Not that we’ve stopped keeping tabs on him.”

      “Well, damn.” Jake reached over and grabbed a box of Tic Tacs from the corner of Duke’s desk, shaking one into his hand and popping it into his mouth. The fresh peppermint cleared his palate but not the residual sour taste from a case gone bad. He leaned forward and spoke low. “Ramirez can’t stay clean forever. His girlfriend claims she hasn’t seen him.”