What Lies Behind. J.T. Ellison

with me all night.”

      “Shut up, Cameron. We need to get my dad’s lawyers here.”

      Cameron drew herself up and gave her friend a baleful glare. “You shut up, Emma. You’re making a fool out of yourself.” And to Fletcher, “We have fake IDs—we were in Mr. Smith’s most of the night. You can check. They booted us and we walked up here. She wanted a booty call. She’s just drunk. She gets stupid when she drinks. Let her go, please. We stumbled into this, and we don’t know anything.”

      Her words rang true, and Fletcher nodded. “Did you see anyone in the neighborhood as you were walking here? Anything that stood out? Cars that seemed suspicious, people who were out of place?”

      Cameron looked at the ground, then back to him. “Sir, I apologize, but I had a lot to drink tonight. I wasn’t noticing much of anything besides where to put my foot next to make it up the hill, and then tossing my cookies when I saw all that blood. Besides, it’s Georgetown. There’s always a bunch of people around. I didn’t notice anyone who looked wrong, but I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, either.”

      Emma had had a change of heart. “There was a jogger. That’s the only person I saw. But it was a woman. She was coming down the hill.”

      “Young, old? Hair color?”

      “She had a baseball cap on, and those reflective sneakers. That’s all I remember.”

      Fletcher believed her. “All right. Unhook her, Hart.”

      Emma looked like she was about to say something, but Cameron shook her head and she stopped. Hart released the cuffs, and Emma rubbed her wrists and muttered, “Thanks.”

      Cameron grabbed her friend’s hand. “Can we go now?”

      Fletcher did his best disappointed-dad routine. “You two behaved incredibly irresponsibly tonight. You could have been killed. I hope you realize that. Now, give me the fake IDs.”

      “Yes, sir,” they chimed in unison.

      They dug in their bags and came up with the bits of plastic. He pocketed them. “Detective Hart will make sure you get home all right. I’ll most likely want to talk to you again, when you’ve had a chance to sober up, and clean up. Give him all your information. And, girls? I hear about you doing anything out of step again, I won’t be Mr. Nice Guy. You hear me?”

      They nodded, and Fletcher jerked his head toward the car. “Get them home,” he said to Hart, then walked back to his own car.

      What a mess. What a huge mess.

      His phone was sitting on the console. There was a text from Sam—sure enough, she had noticed the hubbub. He was tempted to go knock on her door, let her make him a decent cup of coffee. Her boyfriend, Xander, was addicted. They always had some sort of delicious brew on hand. But the text was over an hour old. She may have gone to bed when she didn’t hear back from him.

      He sent her a quick note back, then got started with the paperwork.

      There’d be no sleep for him tonight.

Chapter 5

      BIRDS. ALL SHE could hear was birds.

      Chirping, singing, flitting against the glass feeder. Sweet little songbirds going mad outside the window.

      Sam cracked open her right eye, then the left, pulled herself upright with a little groan. Touched her forehead, saw the remnants of the Scotch in the glass on the coffee table. Papers fell to the floor in a cascade, a gentle susurration off her chest.

      She’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for something... She couldn’t remember.

      Thor saw her stirring. His head shot up, and she could swear the dog smiled.

      “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your breakfast in a minute.”

      He woofed softly, set his muzzle on his paws.

      She picked up the papers, stacked them carefully. Remembered to put Sausalito on top. She wanted to revisit that scene. A houseboat in the northern part of the city, abandoned and neglected. It stood out among the brighter, shinier, newly constructed and renovated, not only because of its dilapidation, but because its owner visited only once a year, in the summer, and when a body had been found in the salon, the owner hadn’t come to see to things.

      Something there.

      The sirens. O Street. She remembered now. Flipped on the television, knowing well enough that if it were as bad as she suspected, the local news would be all over it.

      They were talking about the weather. Sunny and chilly all week, some rain here and there, then a series of perfect D.C. fall days ahead.

      She grabbed her phone. Fletcher had texted her back, sometime around three in the morning. She hadn’t heard the ding.

      Bad one. Double stabbing. One deceased, one in ICU. Sirens wake you up?

      Then a second text, ten minutes later.

      Apparently not.

      She smiled, his sarcasm evident, started to write him back, then jumped as the phone began chirping in her hand. Xander. She answered with a smile. She really did miss him.

      “Hi, babe.”

      “You were up late.” His voice was deep, still rough with sleep, and she felt like he’d wrapped her in his arms from afar.

      “Something happened on O Street, late. Double stabbing. Cops everywhere. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

      “Are you okay? Was it someone we know?”

      “I don’t think so. I’m fine, just tired.”

      “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I was on all night.” He yawned. “Vigilance never sleeps.”

      “You haven’t gotten any sleep? You need rest, Xander.”

      “I know. I’ll grab a few winks in a minute. I wanted to talk to you first.”

      A shimmer of absurd pleasure shot through her. Even exhausted, he wanted her.

      “Is the job going well? Nothing dangerous happening?”

      “It is. All’s well. We’ll be wrapped shortly, and I can come home as soon as we put these guys on a plane back to London. I have good news, though. We already have a gig for next week.”

      She couldn’t help the frown, pushed it away. This was a good thing. She didn’t have the right to hold him back just because she enjoyed having him around at all hours.

      “Good. I’m glad.” She couldn’t help herself. “Hopefully the job is local?”

      He started to laugh. “Why, Dr. Owens. Do you miss me?”

      “Oh, hush. Thor is going nuts without you here.”

      “Uh-huh. I hear you. Give him a scratch for me. Clients’ flight leaves at 0930, then I’m headed your way. I’ll be in by let me see, 1300 hours. Maybe we can walk down to Clyde’s. I’m dying for a decent burger. These guys ate sushi all week.”

      “That sounds great. Can’t wait. Fly safe.”

      “Have a nice day off. Love you.” And he was gone before she had a chance to say it back.

      “I love you, too,” she whispered, and set the phone on the table. She fingered the simple diamond band he’d given her a few weeks earlier, opening the door to a more permanent future together.

      She wasn’t in a rush. They were together in all the ways that mattered. There was no real reason to make it legal. She wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was he.

      She hopped up from the couch, washed her hands thoroughly, ignoring the little voice counting one Mississippi, two Mississippi in