Jeremy looked hesitant. “I’ll have to ask corporate,” the clerk stuttered.
Listening to him, Morgan’s expression never changed. He just continued eying the clerk until the latter backed off.
“I’m—I’m sure it’ll be all right, seeing as how you’re one of Aurora’s finest,” he said, his mouth moving spasmodically in a very uncomfortable, stiff smile. The young clerk’s dark brown eyes shifted back and forth nervously.
“I appreciate that,” Morgan told him, his voice sounding very serious. There wasn’t a hint of a smile anywhere.
“We both do,” Krys said, belatedly realizing that she had inadvertently made it sound as if she and Morgan were a duo that went beyond just a police detective and a near victim of a hit-and-run.
Armed with the surveillance tapes, which at first glance did not appear to have captured the black van at all, Morgan proceeded to take Krys home. He was surprised when she gave him her address and it turned out to be a house.
“You live in a house?” he asked.
“Yes, why does that surprise you?” she asked.
“I just pictured someone who’s always on the go as living in an apartment or at the very most, a condo,” he answered, turning in to her development.
“I like the idea of a house,” she answered. “It gives me a sense of permanency. Besides, Nik lived here. That makes it seem more like home,” she admitted.
The woman, Morgan thought, was less of an independent rebel than she liked to portray.
Chapter 5
As he approached Krys’s front door, Morgan looked at the cacti planted amid clusters of colorful little rocks. “You know, cacti seem rather suited to you,” he commented.
“Why?” she asked, unlocking her front door. “Because we’re both prickly?”
“I was thinking more along the lines that cacti are independent and don’t need much care and attention to survive, but prickly works, too,” he added, just the slightest touch of humor evident in his voice.
While it was true that Krys certainly liked her independence, there were times when she found herself wishing for attention—the right sort of attention—from someone who mattered.
One of the last things that Ian had said to her before he had died was, “Don’t be like me, Krys. Don’t shut yourself off from people and just live for the job. Once in a while, you need to be vulnerable, or else you’re going to wind up alone—like me. I was always sure that there would be more time to have a family, a home, the whole nine yards—right after I finished the next big story. Except that I wound up running out of time.”
“Krys?”
She blinked, realizing that this wasn’t the first time Morgan had said her name, trying to get her attention. She had managed to temporarily drift off. Coming to, she turned the knob and pushed open the front door.
Morgan walked in behind her. “Where did you go just then?”
“Nowhere.” She could tell by the look on the detective’s face that she had answered him too quickly. She didn’t want to go into any explanations, especially not about something so personal as thinking about Ian’s warning. “I was just trying to remember something, that’s all,” she said.
“About who might be trying to kill you?” Morgan asked as he closed the door behind him and flipped the lock. He tried it and it held, but he still made a mental note that she could stand to have a better lock put in in the morning.
“No, about something my friend told me just before he died,” she answered.
“Oh.”
Since she didn’t seem as if she wanted to share whatever that was, he left it alone for now. The only thing he was really interested in was whatever detail might wind up leading him to the person or persons who were obviously out to get her and, at the very least, do her bodily harm if not kill her outright. At this point, he sincerely doubted that after two misses, whoever wanted to hurt her was just going to pick up their marbles and go home.
Morgan took a long look around her dwelling. They were standing in a spacious, open living room that led to a kitchen on one side and probably bedrooms on the other. The whole interior had the sort of orientation that allowed sunlight to reach every available corner of the house, brightening it. From what he could see, the décor appeared to be modern and modest with just enough furnishings to be functional, but not cluttered.
The word utilitarian sprang to mind.
“You’ve got a nice place here,” he told her.
It didn’t escape his notice that Krys had left the suitcase standing by the door where he had initially put it down. That way she could grab it at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t help thinking that she definitely regarded it as a “to-go bag.”
“Thank you. I like it,” Krys replied, not really sure if he was just being polite, or if he actually liked her house.
His eyes took inventory of every visible square inch. It seemed like a lot of space for just one person. “You live here alone?”
As a detective, she figured he had to ask that so he could get a handle on her living quarters, but somehow, the question felt almost too personal.
“Yes,” she answered, looking up at Morgan. “It’s just me now that Nik’s married. Why?”
He shrugged carelessly. “Just trying to get the lay of the land,” he told her. He made his way into the kitchen. When he didn’t see a doorway leading to another part of the house, he turned in the opposite direction. “How many bedrooms?”
“Three,” she answered automatically, then amended her answer. “More like two and a tiny alcove, actually. There’s one bathroom and one half bath,” she told him before he could ask. “Anything else?” she asked with a false note of cheerfulness.
“Only that with that attitude, I wouldn’t suggest you ever think about getting into real estate to earn a living,” he told her, continuing to look around. There was
