Envy

weighed nothing at all. And it barely fit around his throat. But the thing went on like a dream even though the clasp was tiny and his hands were big.

As he dropped his arms, he stared down at her.

“What are my eyes like,” he said hoarsely.

“Destroyed.”

CHAPTER 9

The Hannaford supermarket was about five miles away, but it took Reilly some time to get them over there. Between the traffic and the red lights, she was beginning to think that the pair of them were going to spend eternity in the car.

Or maybe the buzzing in her head was what made it seem like forever.

“What’s on your mind,” Veck said.

Tightening her hands on the wheel, she readjusted herself in the driver’s seat. “If it turns out that Cecilia Barten is one of Kroner’s victims, we have to let her go. Are you prepared to do that?”

“Yeah. I am.”

As she looked over, her new partner’s jaw was tight, his big body tense.

“You sure about that.” Because she wasn’t.

“Yeah. I am.”

Are you a hardheaded sonofabitch who’s likely to do what he damn well pleases even if it screws a direct order? Yeah. I am.

Just as she pulled into the parking lot and started on the spot hunt, her phone went off. “Officer Reilly. Uh- huh, yes—not a big surprise. Really? Okay, and thanks for the update. Yes, please keep me informed.”

She hung up and plugged them into a vacancy between an older silver Mercedes and a blue truck.

Twisting sideways in her seat, she said, “Kroner’s barely hanging on. They don’t expect him to live.”

Veck’s harsh face gave nothing away. “Shame. Maybe he knew what happened.”

“And the analysis is in from the samples they took off him—there is saliva residue, but the readings are not one hundred percent clear as to the source. There appear to be similarities with both cougars and wolves. Hard to say for sure, but the animal hypothesis continues to look directionally correct.”

He nodded and cracked his door open. “Mind if I have a smoke before we go in.”

So maybe he was having a reaction, after all. “Sure.”

They got out, and Veck came around to the back of the car, easing against the trunk and taking out a pack of Marlboros—as if a man like him would smoke anything else? As he lit up, she did her best not to think about all the bras and panties that were separated from the seat of his pants by nothing but some layers of sheet metal.

He was careful not to exhale anywhere near her or in a direction she was downwind of. “Bad habit,” he muttered, “but no one lives forever.”

“Very true.”

Leaning against the trunk herself, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked up toward the sun. The warmth on her face was a benediction, and she closed her eyes to enjoy it.

When she eventually opened her lids again, she was shocked.

Veck was staring at her, and there was an expression on his face . . . a sexual speculation that she was almost sure she was reading incorrectly.

Except then he looked away quick.

Not something you did if you were thinking about work.

Abruptly, the spring day’s temperature shot up into the tropical, and now she was the one staring at him. Well, “ogling” was another word for it.

As he brought the cigarette up to his lips, his mouth parted and then he was sucking, the tip flaring orange, his fore- and middle fingers briefly releasing the shaft. Oh, hell’s bells, she thought. Smoking was a deadly, nasty habit she didn’t approve of . . . so it was unsettling to realize all those old Humphrey Bogart movies had not been insane when they’d done close-ups like this. There was just something undeniably erotic about the whole thing. Especially as the smoke eased out of his mouth and briefly shadowed his laser-like navy blue eyes and his dark cropped hair.

She looked away fast before she got caught—

“So?” he prompted.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked what you think.”

Right. How to answer that: I think all the cherry red I’m wearing under my clothes is warping my brain. Because I’m finding the idea of straddling you against this car and riding you like a cowgirl with her hat over her head pretty damn appealing.

“I need more information before I can form an opinion.” So how about lighting up another one of those bad boys and dropping your pants— “Oh, God—”

“Are you okay?” he said, leaning in and putting his free hand on her arm. “You didn’t eat much breakfast—did you get anything for lunch?”

You’re all but sitting on three bags of what I had on my hour off, big daddy.

“You know”—she cleared her throat—“I probably should eat something.”

And so help her, God, if her brain coughed up anything even remotely like whipped cream on some part of his body, she was putting in for a transfer away from herself.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, snuffing out his Marlboro on the heel of his shoe.

Good idea. And note to self: No downtime with her temporary partner. Ever.

They walked over and went through the automatic doors, passing the lineup of carts in the foyer and entering the supermarket proper.

When Veck paused and looked around, she nodded to the right. “The manager’s office is this way.”

“You shop here?”

“These stores are all laid out pretty much the same.”

As they walked together, he said, “I probably should know this one by heart. My house isn’t far from here.”

“So this is where you buy your groceries?”

“My coffee and cigarettes—healthy, huh.”

He sure looked to be in great shape. “You can always change your habits.”

“You know, I quit for a while. The cigs, not the caffeine.”

“What made you take it up again?”

“Coldcocking that photographer.”

Ahhh, so he did have emotions. “There’s a lot of stress in your job.”

“Have you ever been a smoker?”

“No, and I don’t really drink. I’m not big on vices.”

Then again, she could be working on one for shopping.

And that was the last thought she had on any off-work subject. As they went over to customer service, she put aside all distractions, her game head coming back online as she imagined Mrs. Barten’s daughter coming here to this store to help out her mother . . . only to have what should have been a routine trip for groceries turn into a nightmare.

Maybe because of Kroner.

As she got ready to flash her badge to the manager, it was dangerously satisfying to imagine Veck, or even that hard-ass Agent Heron, beating the ever-loving hell out of the guy. But that was not the kind of justice that was going to be served to the serial killer. And she wasn’t fooling herself: It would not be a surprise to find out Sissy was on Kroner’s list of victims, and that possibility was absolutely why Veck was interested in the case.

But Reilly played by the rules. Always had, always would.

First sign this poor girl was one of his victims? They were turning her case over to de la Cruz, and she was