“It’s almost Groundhog Day for real. I always watch it this time of year. Do you hate it or something?”
She hoped he didn’t, but she wouldn’t hold it against him if he did. Her ex hadn’t liked it either, but that was the least of his faults.
Colt laughed. “I don’t hate it. I like it. But it’s an older movie so I wouldn’t have thought it would be your first choice.”
“How little you know about me. I love old movies. Casablanca is a particular favorite. North by Northwest with Cary Grant. Lawrence of Arabia. Oh, and The Guns of Navarone. I could keep going.”
He was smiling. “I had no idea. Why do you like those?”
Happiness was a quiet presence inside her. “My grandfather was a movie buff. Some of my favorite memories are sitting on his lap and watching old black and whites. He loved epics and action movies, and the classics like Casablanca.”
“He sounds like a fun granddad.”
“He was. Watching old movies makes me feel like he’s still with me sometimes. That’s not why I like Groundhog Day though. I like that one because it’s a sweet, funny romance.”
“Then let’s watch it. I haven’t seen it in years.”
“You’ll watch it with me?”
“If you want me to.”
“I’d love that,” she said softly.
Colt knew when she’d fallen asleep again. Angie lay with her arm across his belly and her face against his chest. He had his fingers in her hair, twisting a lock of it around and around his index finger. It was soft, silky, and only slightly damp now. Onscreen, Bill Murray and Andie McDowell traded banter. Bill was a dickish reporter and Andie was the sweet and naïve producer who’d been sent to Pennsylvania to get footage of weatherman Bill with the groundhog.
The movie was cute and sweet and poignant, and it didn’t surprise him that Angie loved to watch it. In fact, she kind of reminded him of the Andie McDowell character in a way. Maybe not naïve, but definitely sweet and hopeful. He frowned hard as he thought of the news Jace delivered earlier.
Jennifer Clark, known at work as Jenny or Jen, had been found in her car that morning by a jogger who’d noticed her slumped over the wheel. He’d knocked on the window. When she didn’t respond, he tried to open the door. It was locked and he called 911. The police and an ambulance arrived within minutes.
No report on what had killed her yet, but initial evidence indicated she’d been dead for about six hours at that point.
Colt continued to twist Angie’s hair as she clung to him. He couldn’t tell her yet. Not when she was sick. The last thing she needed was to get emotional about Jenny’s death when she was still recovering from a stomach bug.
So he didn’t tell her, and he felt guilty about it. He’d left her phone in the kitchen, turned off, so no one could blow up her messages with the news.
His phone buzzed and he picked it up. It was Ian so he answered as quietly as he could. Angie didn’t stir.
“Yeah, boss?”
“How’s the patient?”
“Better, but still not feeling great.”
“And you?”
“I feel fine.”
“Glad to hear it. Preliminary report on Jenny Clark is that she committed suicide. Prescription anxiety meds combined with bourbon. There was an empty bottle in the car. They ran a rape kit on her and she’d had sex just a few hours before. There were finger marks on her throat, but they didn’t kill her. The age of the marks is consistent with when she had sex—she also had light bruising on her buttocks. A little bit of vigorous spanking, possibly. And there were bite marks on her nipples. Whoever she had sex with, it wasn’t strictly vanilla.”
“You’re telling me she had a few orgasms, and then she drove her car to a parking lot near the waterfront and downed pills with bourbon?”
“It could happen. I don’t believe it did, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t.”
“Do you think it’s connected to everything else?”
“The million dollar question. Yes, I do.”
“But you aren’t telling me over the phone.”
“No. You’ll have to come in.”
He knew what Ian meant. It was sensitive information and it had to be discussed behind BDI’s secure doors. “Can’t do that right now, boss.”
“I know.”
“Is she in danger?” He wasn’t saying her name because he didn’t want to wake her.
“I think she’s fine for the moment. They don’t know where she is. I’m putting Tyler and Jared onto your security. They’ll be watching.”
Staking out his house, Ian meant. “Is that necessary?”
“Right now when she’s sick and you’re distracted by it? Yeah, it’s necessary. I don’t expect any trouble, but I didn’t live to be this age by being careless and whimsical.”
Colt would never describe Ian as whimsical. It was almost comical to think of that word associated with him. “You’re the boss, boss.”
“Need you here in the morning. Jared can stay with your girl while you come in.”
His girl. She was his girl.
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter Thirteen
Angie was feeling almost like herself the next morning. She managed to sleep all night, waking up only once to pee—and no puking, thankfully. It was nice not to have to run to the bathroom several times a night, or feel like hell when her stomach cramped.
Colt had slept beside her last night. She remembered that clearly. He’d been wearing a shirt and shorts, but he was there with her. They’d slept together. Just slept. It was a strange thought, and a nice one too. Who would have ever thought it?
She searched for her phone on the nightstand. It wasn’t there. She didn’t know what time it was, though she knew it was light because there was a sliver coming between the drapes. She got out of bed, feeling a little shaky, and went into the bathroom to freshen up.
Colt had moved her toiletries to the master. Her heart thumped at his thoughtfulness. She went back into the bedroom, found that
