Proof of Life. Laura Scott

mug on the table, thankful she didn’t spill. “Ah, do you like eggs? Because I have to tell you, there isn’t a huge variety of food to choose from.”

      “Eggs would be great.” His stomach rumbled loudly, as if reinforcing his need for food. He flashed a sheepish grin and her heart did a funny little flip.

      She squelched the reaction and quickly threw together scrambled eggs and toast. The sooner she gave him food, the sooner she could send him on his way.

      When he’d finished the first cup of coffee, he came over to get a refill. His closeness was enough to rattle her, and she burned her thumb on the edge of the frying pan. She swallowed a yelp, thrusting her thumb under a stream of cold water. This was ridiculous; there was no reason to be nervous.

      “Are you all right?” he asked.

      “Fine.” She forced a smile. “The eggs are just about ready.”

      “Thanks.” He carried his mug over to the table, and she handed him a plate full of eggs and toast. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Quinn spoke up. “You’re going to call the police when we’re finished with breakfast, right?”

      She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. The man sounded like a broken record. “Right.”

      As soon as she finished her meal, Shanna gave in and pulled out her cell phone. Considering she’d worked all day Sunday, she could afford to be a little late to work this morning. She had to look up the non-emergency number in the phone book and briefly explained her situation when one of the officers came on the line.

      “They’re sending someone over,” she said, hanging up a few minutes later. “They asked me to leave the card from last night under the windshield wiper.” She hadn’t touched the note, figuring the cops would want to see exactly where the guy had left it.

      “Good.” Quinn sat back, sipping his coffee as if he wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

      “The police are on their way, Quinn. There’s no need for you to stay.” She carried her dirty dishes to the sink, cleaning up the remains of their breakfast mess. “You need to go home, get some decent sleep.”

      “How long before you get anything back from the lab?” he asked, ignoring her blatant hint urging him to go. “On the fingerprints and hair fibers?”

      “We have lots of evidence to sift through. I’m afraid it will probably be awhile.” She understood how anxious he was for news, any news. She’d been on his side of the waiting game. It had only been in recent years that she’d learned how patience was a virtue. “I promise I’ll get in touch with you if we come up with anything.”

      He glanced at her. “You know I’m not really involved in this investigation, except peripherally. All of your evidence needs to go to Hank Nelson.”

      “I know.” She wrung out the dishrag and turned toward him, resting her hip against the counter. “But you’re the one who knows the students on campus, right? Hank has to keep you involved in the investigation to a certain extent. Maybe we do have to give all the evidence to the lead homicide detective on the case, but I see no reason why the crime lab wouldn’t cooperate with the campus police, too.”

      He smiled and shrugged. “Hank probably won’t like it, but I’ll take anything you can give me.”

      His appreciation warmed her heart. After the way he’d slept in his car, just to protect her, this was the least she could do in return. Besides, the homicide had taken place on his turf. She’d expect the same consideration in his shoes.

      Their gazes locked, and for a moment she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t deserve to feel this attraction to him, but she couldn’t look away. If she were honest, she’d admit she intended to keep him in the loop because she wanted to see him again, not just because of professional courtesy.

      The ringing of her doorbell echoed through the house, breaking the moment. She swallowed hard and pushed away from the counter, crossing over to the living room to open the front door.

      The officers who stood there had their respective IDs ready, which she carefully inspected before allowing Officers Kappas and Jones inside.

      “Murphy?” Jones, the taller of the two, frowned when he recognized Quinn. “Haven’t seen you since your old man’s funeral.” His gaze landed on Shanna, frankly curious. “I—uh—didn’t know you were involved with anyone.”

      Funeral? Shanna glanced at Quinn in surprise, but then flushed when she realized the two officers assumed she and Quinn were a couple. “He’s a friend,” she said quickly.

      The last thing she needed were rumors going around about her and Quinn. How embarrassing that would be.

      “We were at Karly’s Kitchen last night when Ms. Dawson saw a man loitering by her car,” Quinn said, as if sensing her discomfort. “I didn’t see him, but we found a white envelope with her name printed on the front in block letters, stuck under her windshield.”

      She was grateful Quinn cut to the chase, putting the interview back on track.

      “Ms. Dawson has received other notes, as well.” He picked up the three notes she’d left on the counter and handed them to the officers. “Shanna, when did you get the first note?”

      “Two weeks ago.” She explained how the first note had actually showed up in her mailbox down at the CSI lab. The message read “Guilty as charged,” so she hadn’t really thought too much about it. “I guess I figured the sender was just someone dealing with a lot of anger. The second and third ones, though, were in my mailbox here at home.”

      Her personal space. Her haven.

      “You dusted for fingerprints?” Kappas asked.

      “I’m a CSI—of course I dusted for prints. Didn’t find any, though. I also tried to narrow down the source of the paper, but it’s carried everywhere.” She lifted her palms helplessly. “Really, this could be related to any one of my cases, although the one I just wrapped up, the Markoviack murder, is the most likely one.”

      “Did the man by your car look at all familiar?” Jones took over the questioning.

      “I only caught a glimpse, but didn’t recognize him at all.”

      “You mentioned this being related to one of your cases, like the Markoviack murder. Why does that one stand out in your mind?” Kappas asked.

      She quickly explained about the last big case she’d worked on, how her evidence put Jessica Markoviack in prison. Both officers exchanged a look and agreed that Jessica’s former boyfriend was a possible culprit.

      “Where’s the fourth note now?” Jones asked.

      She glanced at Quinn. “We left it beneath the windshield wiper. My car is in the garage.” Leading the way out the side door, to the detached garage where her Toyota Camry was parked, she gestured to the car.

      The officers looked at the note, then used gloved hands to remove it from beneath the wiper blade. She took out her fingerprint kit and dusted both the note and the windshield for prints.

      There weren’t any, just like the previous notes.

      Jones opened the flap and removed the note. They crowded around to see what it said. “Next time, you’ll be alone,” Jones read out loud.

      “I don’t get it,” Quinn muttered. “How did he know you were with me?”

      She couldn’t suppress a shiver, fear congealing in the bottom of her stomach. “Because he’s watching me.”

      Kappas and Jones exchanged a grim look. “I’ll recommend increased surveillance of this neighborhood, ma’am,” Jones said.

      Sending a patrol car through every couple hours wasn’t going to prevent this guy from trying to get her, but she understood they were doing the best they could. “That’s fine.”

      “No,