Cutting Edge

elicit such passionate anger.

Sanger glanced left, looking beyond Duke, a tight sneer on his face. “Oh, hello, Agent English.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

Nora. If there was even a faint silver lining on this tragedy, it was that Duke would be seeing a lot more of Nora English.

He turned around, watched as Nora realized it was him standing with the sheriff. It was instantaneous. Her confident stride slowed a fraction, her dark eyes widened in surprise. Then Nora plastered on that impassive expression she’d perfected.

But Duke knew better.

No matter how rigid Nora English tried to pretend she was, under that icy shield was a woman rippling with energy and passion. Besides, a woman who looked like Nora, with perfect curves and athletic prowess, couldn’t be all hardened cop. That she could deny for the four years Duke had known her that she was as attracted to him as he was to her showed a stubborn streak that Duke had been slowly wearing down the half-dozen times they’d worked together. The last case he’d consulted with her on, only a year ago, he’d been this close in getting her to agree to a date, but she’d clammed up and avoided his calls. He’d left the ball in her court, but now all bets were off. He liked puzzles, and Agent English was an extremely complex and sexy puzzle he couldn’t wait to put together.

“Duke Rogan,” Nora said, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. “Security?”

She was playing the professional cop, but Duke smiled. “Good to see you, Nora. You’re looking terrific, as usual.” And other than her tired eyes, she looked even better than the last time he’d seen her.

Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lower lip. “Do you know the principals?”

He nodded somberly. “Jim Butcher and I went to school together, I’ve known Jonah almost since they started the business, when Jim hired me to run background checks on employees.”

“Did you design the security here?”

“Yes.” He glanced at the building, knowing that he’d screwed up somewhere. He just couldn’t see where. He’d have to go through the logs line by line.

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” Sanger said.

Nora’s chin jutted forward and she said, “Mr. Rogan has consulted for the FBI before.”

Mr. Rogan? Duke was bemused. “I’ve worked with Agent English a few times.”

She glanced slyly at him, her eyes narrowed as if wondering what he was up to, then turned to the sheriff. “As sheriff, you know that criminals will walk if law enforcement doesn’t play by the rules.”

“But sometimes you need to push the envelope. I’m not talking about breaking the law, I’m talking about putting pressure on the bastards we know are involved even if we can’t prove it.”

Duke realized he was in the middle of a long-running debate between Nora and the sheriff. He’d put his money on Nora.

“Agent English!” Rich Belham called, waving his arms to get her attention.

Her voice was as cold as her expression. “Let’s take it inside.”

Lance Sanger agreed, though he wasn’t giving up the argument. Duke followed them. Nora glanced at him, then looked skyward as if asking God: Why her?

Because we are good together.

Duke met Nora when a local congressman, a friend of Duke’s partner J. T. Caruso, had received death threats. Duke was attracted immediately upon laying eyes on the woman. But as soon as they had actually started working the case, he’d also known there was something more than physical lust between them. Nora knew it, too. She just denied it. Too vehemently.

“With all due respect, Nora,” Sanger said, “I knew Jonah Payne. He was a local-boy-done-good story, born right here in Auburn, left for college and came back to build his business. Brought jobs, good jobs, to town.”

The undercurrent of accusation in Sanger’s tone was clear: If you’d put them in prison already, Jonah would be alive.

Her words were laced with ice. “We’ve followed every lead, Lance. This case isn’t being ignored. And you damn well know that.”

Sanger grunted. “People are talking, Nora. They want to know why we-why I- haven’t arrested Leif Cole.”

Nora softened a fraction. “I understand your position, and I’m doing everything I can. I know something about the rules-and which ones I can bend, and which ones are only suggestions. I don’t want this group out any more than you do. But you know very well that Professor Cole isn’t setting these fires.”

“But he may know who is.”

They stepped into the lobby, the stone floor slick with an inch of water. Two firemen, coats off, took an ax to the wall between the research offices and the lobby.

Nora tilted her head to the side. “I’ve interviewed Cole half a dozen times. You know him personally. Would he keep quiet if he knew who had set these fires?”

“I don’t know.” Sanger ran a hand over his buzz cut.

“And neither do I.”

“Do we have confirmation that the victim is Jonah Payne?”

“Not yet, but we’re almost positive. Visually, even with the second- and third-degree burns, the victim resembles Dr. Payne. Same height and build, discovered in his office, his vehicle is parked in the rear of the building, registered to him. He wore glasses like Dr. Payne. We will identify personal artifacts, and when we move the body we’ll check for a wallet and any identification, and if possible, the coroner will print him.”

“I’d like to see him,” Duke said.

Nora looked at him, unable to hide her compassion and empathy. “You don’t need to-”

“I do.”

Her chin quivered, just for a second, and she took his hand. She understood; he didn’t have to explain. “I’m really sorry.”

Duke squeezed her fingers. He’d take her sympathy, but what he really wanted was justice.

“You were about to say something else,” he said, watching her dark gray eyes. Duke had always been drawn to Nora’s eyes-she was the only woman he knew who had truly gray eyes, and they were gorgeous, especially with her long lashes and red lips.

She waited a beat.

“You know I have clearance,” he said.

“I know.” She pulled her hand from his. He didn’t let it go without a tug. “My instincts tell me that Cole is not directly involved, but he either knows or suspects who is. He supports legitimate civil disobedience, but he’s never advocated murder, nor is he a dyed-in-the-wool anarchist. I’ve read all his writings, even went to his big speech two months ago. He wants a stop to all biotech research. There is no middle ground with him. But you can’t arrest someone for expressing an opinion.”

“You can arrest someone for inciting a riot,” the sheriff interupted.

“He didn’t.”

“He’s pushing those kids to burn down private property!”

“He’s not telling them to.”

“Not in so many words-”

“I don’t have to tell you how the First Amendment works, Lance. We’ve had this conversation too many times before. I’ll be talking to Professor Cole again. You have to stay out of this.”

Nora sounded extremely confident, but Duke also knew that it was extremely difficult to build a case for domestic terrorism. It usually took years before the FBI had enough evidence to get a warrant, and Duke was not that patient.

Sanger fumed. “This fire is in my jurisdiction!”

“And my unit is in charge of all cases of domestic terrorism. I don’t want to pull rank. I need your help-”

“Doesn’t sound like you want any help.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Sanger grunted. “You don’t know these people like I do.”