“Do you?” he countered.
She took a deep breath, doing her best to center herself and walk away from any potential dispute that was brewing. “We got a win here, Muldare. Why don’t we just run with it for now and see where it leads?”
“Fine with me.”
“By the way,” she said as Jackson made his way to the freeway on-ramp that would eventually bring them back to Aurora, “how long have you known that you possessed this fatal appeal to women of a certain age?” She was having trouble getting the question out without laughing.
“Let it go, O’Bannon,” Jackson retorted. “It got her talking and that led to what you seem to think is a break, so why don’t you give me one and let this drop?”
This was just the normal give-and-take of a relationship that was formed driving to and from work, but Jackson was obviously not happy having to deal with it, Brianna thought.
“I don’t want to let it drop,” she told him. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t possibly be staring down our first large break. That was good work back there with Mrs. Jessop.”
He looked at her while they were stopped at a light. Brianna sounded genuine enough. Maybe she was trying to be friends despite his rebuff earlier.
However, what he’d told her was true. He didn’t want friends—all he wanted was some peace and quiet.
Right, peace and quiet. In the middle of a homicide investigation. Boy, did you ever make the wrong career choice, he mocked himself.
“She just wanted to talk to someone,” he told Brianna.
“Not someone,” Brianna corrected. “You. She wanted to talk to you. Don’t forget, I tried to talk to her first. But her eyes didn’t light up until she took a closer look at you.”
He made a dismissive noise. “Now you’re just making things up.”
“No,” she argued, “I’m just telling it the way it is. Look, young or old, most women respond to a good-looking man. And if that good-looking man is sympathetic, all the better. You use whatever tools you have to get the job done, Jackson. No shame in that.”
Most women, he thought. Was she including herself in that? Was she telling him she wanted him to be sympathetic to her? Let it go, Muldare, he ordered. Woman’s getting into your brain and creating scenarios there that have nothing to do with the case.
“I’m not ashamed,” he told her. “I just think you’re exaggerating.”
“On occasion,” Brianna agreed. He didn’t have to look at her to know she was grinning again. “But not this time. You do own a mirror, don’t you?”
“I think there’s one in my bathroom,” he answered drily.
“Take a look the next time you’re in there,” she advised. “You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“Uh-huh.”
Before she could say anything further, Jackson turned on the radio. Loud.
Chapter 13
“Feel like grabbing a pizza or something?” Brianna asked once they were finally back in Aurora and driving toward the precinct.
Traffic from San Francisco had been unusually heavy, and what should have been less than an hour’s drive home had turned into a bumper-to-bumper affair that had lasted close to two and a half.
“Pizza sounds good,” Jackson answered. Making a sharp right turn at the corner, he glanced at the dashboard. It was after seven. “But I’ve got somewhere else I’m supposed to be,” he told her. Ordinarily, he would have stopped there. But something egged him on to add, “Maybe next time.”
Damn it, he was getting soft, Jackson thought, immediately regretting the addendum.
“Need company?” Brianna asked as he pulled into the precinct’s parking lot.
“No,” he answered flatly, irritated. “You can’t just go inviting yourself along,” he told Brianna, turning off the car’s engine. He knew what had prompted her offer. Somehow, she’d sensed where he was going—or thought she had.
Well, he wasn’t about to admit to that. Instead, he tried to throw her off. “What if I was meeting someone?” he questioned, then for emphasis added, “What if I was meeting a woman?”
Her smile told him he wasn’t fooling her.
“You would have led with that. Besides,” she said, unfazed, “you’ve kind of established that you don’t have a social life.”
“When?” Jackson asked, stunned. “When did I establish that?”
Brianna’s smile was mysterious as she slid out of the passenger seat. Turning to close the door, she leaned in through the open window and said, “You’re a detective, Muldare. Think about it. It’ll come to you,” she said easily. “See you in the morning.”
They weren’t parting company just yet, Jackson thought, beginning to get out on his side.
“Where are you going?” Brianna asked.
He jerked his thumb toward the precinct. “I’ve got to sign out.”
But Brianna shook her head, stopping him before he had both feet on the ground. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll sign out for you. I need to check on something before I call it a night.”
She waited a beat for Jackson to ask her what she was checking on, but he didn’t. Sitting back down in the driver’s seat, Jackson just started up his car again and drove out of the parking lot without so much as a backward glance.
Brianna laughed softly to herself. “Better man than I, Gunga Din,” she murmured under her breath.
If the tables had been turned, her own curiosity would have urged her to ask Jackson what he was checking on in the squad room. But he was obviously content not knowing.
How the hell did that man ever make it to detective, Brianna wondered. Curiosity was supposed to be a natural component in the makeup of a police detective, yet he didn’t seem to possess it, at least not outside of work-related topics.
Shaking her head, Brianna got on the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor.
The squad room was mostly empty when she walked in. The detectives who usually populated the room, unless they were actively on call, had gone home for the night.
Del Campo’s desk was vacant, as was Johansson’s. The two detectives either hadn’t made it back from their wine-country
