“Uh, yes?” There he went again, making her think she should be running from the room instead of standing mesmerized by the lines of muscle that formed his back, or the way his worn jeans pulled across his thighs. Kara swallowed.
“Hmm.” He balanced the book on his leg, and looked up at her. Silence filled the room.
Kara reached out to take the book back, and her fingers brushed over taut denim. Risk’s eyes flashed, and Kara’s breath caught in her throat. Tension pulsed between them. Before she could pull back, his hand captured hers, his fingers warm, strong and masculine.
They stood there frozen. Kara unsure whether to run or to finish what they’d started earlier — to fling her legs on each side of his waist and trap his body with her own.
Risk rubbed his thumb across the bones of her hand. Emotion warring behind his eyes.
Kara opened her mouth, not sure what she was about to say, and the phone rang, breaking the spell.
Risk drew in a deep breath and followed Kara as she scampered out of the room. The dusty steps creaked under his weight as he climbed the stairs leading to the main house, leaving the dark basement behind him.
“This is Kara.” Kara stood in a small kitchen, a cordless phone wedged under her chin.
Polished wood floors and a white-painted table made the room cozy and feminine. An intriguing mix of cinnamon, coffee and Kara perfumed the air.
“No, I haven’t heard from her.” Kara glanced up, nodded for Risk to sit at the table.
Risk pulled out a spindle-legged chair and stared uneasily at the lemon-yellow cushion balanced on its seat.
“No, I understand.” Kara turned to face the wall, pressed her free hand to the back of her neck. “I…I can come now.”
With a click she hung up the phone. “I have to go.” Without looking at Risk, she strode to a cabinet and jerked out the drawer. “Where—? Damn it.” She looked up at Risk, her eyes snapping with anger.
Leaning against a line of cabinets, he wrapped his fingers around the cheerful yellow countertop, and fought to ignore the onslaught of emotion rolling out of her. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes. No.” Kara shook her head. “I don’t know. My car. Where is it?”
“Car?” He stared back at her. If she had a car, he didn’t know it. Most of his prey had bigger issues to worry about than lost transportation.
“Damn. It must still be at the bar — or towed.” She mumbled something under her breath. Then snapped her head up. “Your car. I’ll have to borrow it.” She disappeared through a doorway into a hallway. There were sounds of shuffling objects then the tinkle of keys.
Risk raised a brow. Silly female. He’d loaned her his Jeep once — to escape Lusse. But did she really think he would let her waltz away in it again? Without him? Sighing, he strode through the door after her.
Kara stared through the small windshield of Risk’s Jeep, refusing to look at the man himself. He had insisted on driving her to the morgue — despite the fact he was half-clothed. He’d just plucked the keys from her fingers and strode past her to the car. As distraught as she was, not knowing what awaited her, she’d followed, like a sheep.
When the detective had called, she’d lost her grip for a bit — her only thought to get to the morgue and prove the body they’d found wasn’t Kelly — couldn’t be Kelly. Even now, ten minutes later, her pulse pounded and she couldn’t seem to sit still on the leather seat. She had wanted the police to call, but not like this — not to tell her they’d found a body matching the description of her sister.
A body. A body. Her mind chanted over and over.
Sun beat down on her, and despite the cold air outside, sweat beaded on Kara’s neck and dribbled between her breasts. She stared out the window watching children with sleds whiz down a snow-covered hill as the Jeep zipped past.
Not Kelly. Not Kelly. Couldn’t be Kelly.
Sloshing through half-melted snow, the Jeep spun into the circle drive in front of the county building and jostled to a stop.
Risk turned in his seat to look at her.
Kara closed her eyes and unclicked her seat belt. Time to prove them wrong.
Risk had dropped Kara at the door, then driven off to find a parking spot. When he joined her inside the building, he was wearing a flannel shirt and boots. Kara didn’t bother to ask where they came from. She was beyond such details.
Detective Poulson was waiting for them at his desk. Kara had met him earlier, two days after she first reported Kelly missing. He was attractive in a slim marathon-runner kind of way. When he saw Kara, he smiled, flicked a chunk of too-long hair out of his eyes, then held out his hand. Before she could return the gesture, Risk stepped forward. The welcome in the detective’s eyes changed to a question.
“You have something to show us?” Risk asked, ignoring the other man’s hand.
Detective Poulson met Risk’s gaze, then lowered his hand. “Are you here for the ID, too?”
“We are,” Risk replied.
Poulson gave Risk a curious stare, but shrugged it off, switched his gaze back to Kara. “You ready for this? It isn’t going to be easy. This woman…she didn’t die an easy death.”
Kara inhaled through her nose, held the breath for a second. “I’m ready.” Ready or not. Right? There were just some things you’d never be ready for. Meeting the detective’s gaze, she gave her head a firm nod. “I’m ready.”
The detective looked as if he might say something else, then shook his head. “Follow me then. Might as well get this going.”
They took an elevator to the lower level. Kara stared blindly at the silver doors. When the bell dinged, she didn’t move. The detective cleared his throat, and Risk pressed a warm reassuring hand to the small of her back. Huffing out a breath, she stepped out of the elevator.
They stood in a short hall. Black scuff marks marred otherwise white walls. The air was cool; Kara wrapped her arms around herself, wishing Risk would replace his hand on her back or drape his arm around her shoulders. Wished someone would tell her this was all a mistake and motion them back into the elevator. Instead, Detective Poulson ushered them toward an older man in a white lab coat standing a few feet to their left.
“Dan is one of our forensic technicians. He’ll take us in.”
In the tech’s hand were three surgical masks. “For the smell,” he said with an apologetic note.
Risk waved the mask off, but Kara took one, her hands shaking as she tied it around her face. With one last concerned nod, the technician pulled open a nearby door and motioned them inside.
Even through the mask, the smell hit Kara hard — an unpleasant mix of sulfur and ammonia. Her lungs burned, and her eyes watered. Blinking back the wetness, she glanced around, praying she would see nothing that reminded her of Kelly.
The room was small, cold, and sterile. There were three tables in the back, only one occupied by a sheet- covered body. Their companion motioned them ahead, then walked toward the corpse. Kara took a shuddering breath and forced her feet to move one in front of the other, her hand tightening around Risk’s arm with each step.
His eyes filled with sympathy, the technician placed his hand on the sheet. “Are you ready?” The question was directed at the detective, but the tech kept his gaze on Kara. Then before pulling back the sheet, he flicked a warning look to Risk.
Risk stepped closer, his large body seeming ready to shelter Kara from whatever lay underneath the white cloth.
Her gaze on the body in front of her, Kara nodded. Now or never. She had to know. Was it Kelly?
The tech flipped off the sheet then stepped back, his eyes focusing on something on the floor a few feet away. Kara ignored him. Ignored everything but the body on the table. She stifled a gasp as her gaze first lit on what she prayed wasn’t her sister. Closing her eyes against the sight, she counted to ten, leaned her back against Risk’s warmth then opened them again. She had to do this. Had to know.
It was a woman, her height. In other words, Kelly’s height, but past that it was impossible to say how the
