Nora’s expression darkened, and her hands clenched so tight that her knuckles turned white, though she tried to hide them behind her back. Nora always tried to conceal her tells. It worked with other people, but not Duke.
“On the contrary, Sheriff, I know these people a hell of a lot better than you or anyone.” She turned to Duke. “If you want to view the body, Rogan, come with me. Then I’d like you to walk me through the security system.”
Duke watched Nora stride purposefully down the wide hall toward Jonah’s office, not looking back. She was upset and angry, out of character for her about something so small as Sheriff Sanger’s tit-for-tat argument. Duke had intentionally avoided using his resources to look into her background, though he’d been tempted more than once because few women had intrigued him like Nora English. He’d always suspected Nora had depth of character and experience that outweighed her thirtysome years.
He’d dated so many women in law enforcement and the military that they’d begun to blend together, the many chips on their shoulders weighing down any chance of true joy. But the society women who’d filled his dance card these last few years also held no lasting attraction-Duke had grown bored with fancy dinners, charity balls, and falseness. It was only Nora he thought about time and time again, and the need to find out everything he could about her … from
“Icy bitch,” Sanger mumbled. “I’m getting some coffee. Good luck with her.”
He needed good luck with Nora in more ways than Sheriff Sanger even suspected.
Nora didn’t care whether either of the men followed her. She was so angry right now they’d better just stand down for two minutes. Why had she let Sanger get to her? She knew him, knew his type, had been able to manage the sticky relationship for years. The sheriff was more than willing to do anything she asked related to the case, and his two decades’ experience in the sheriff’s department was immensely valuable to the task force. But his personal connection to Professor Leif Cole, and the animosity he felt toward his old friend, was clouding his judgment. They’d been friendly up until Cole’s name had been mentioned during the course of the investigation into the first arson. Now she and Sanger barely tolerated each other.
Of course he didn’t know her or her past. In fact, aside from a few people she worked with and Quin, no one knew she’d put her mother in prison. They could find out without looking too hard-the records weren’t sealed-but it wasn’t something she talked about.
And then Duke Rogan-of all people! — showed up. He drove her absolutely crazy with his arrogant conviction that eventually she’d go out with him. Just because he was attractive, with that black Irish charm, that dark wavy hair, those blue eyes, and that dimple. And he was smart. And confident. And yes, dammit, she was attracted to him, but she didn’t have time for too-smart, too-sexy men who distracted her from her job. She didn’t want to make the time for Duke Rogan or anyone else. She’d avoided any personal involvement for four years of on-again, off- again working projects. The problem was that it was harder each time to withstand his appeal. And he knew it, which irritated her immensely.
The work always grounded her.
She hadn’t noticed Duke following her until he said, “I know Leif Cole is a professor at Rose College, but what’s his story? Why is the sheriff so gung-ho certain he’s involved?”
Nora stopped inside the threshold of the research wing and turned to face him.
“Cole is a social science professor and has been involved in several high-profile demonstrations and speeches against biogenetic research specifically, and biotechnology as a whole. He has several arrests for civil disobedience and trespassing, spent a few months in jail, but has never been arrested for violence or arson.”
“But Sanger thinks he’s involved.”
“Look, Cole’s a prick, but he’s hardly the raving lunatic Lance Sanger makes him out to be. The First Amendment protects his speech, and we have no proof that his vitriol intentionally incited violence.”
It would help if Cole had been more forthcoming with their investigation, but in the absence of proof, Nora couldn’t do a damn thing except keep digging. If they overreacted and brought Cole in-or, worse, arrested him-he would be a martyr. She was not letting Cole-if he was involved-or anyone else get off on a technicality. Cases like this were painstakingly built to insure that a conviction held up. Without proof, she’d never get a warrant past her superiors. Without evidence, she couldn’t build a case. If she tossed aside the rules, a killer could walk free.
She’d seen it happen more than once. It would not happen to her.
“Do you have someone undercover? Someone in his classes? Talking to his students?”
Nora didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking, especially when it involved Duke Rogan.
“Don’t even think about it, Duke.”
He looked at her wide-eyed, but hardly innocent. “I was just asking.”
“Right.”
“It’s always good to see you, Nora. I’m sorry it’s here.”
She shook her head. “Just stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Save it.”
“For later?” he asked, hopeful.
He was playing her. She wasn’t going to bite.
“You can consult, but that’s it.”
“You’re the boss.”
He glanced over her shoulder at the doorway to Payne’s office and sobered immediately. Her heart went out to him, against her better judgment. The victim was Duke’s friend, after all, and even after everything she’d seen and done in her life, Nora still retained compassion. It was human empathy that separated the cops from criminals. “Are you sure-”
“Yes,” he interrupted, all humor gone. “Let’s do it.”
She touched his arm and squeezed. “It’s pretty bad, Duke.”
Duke braced himself for the worst. He pulled together his reserves, but was barely prepared for the sight of Jonah Payne’s burned body when Nora moved away from the door.
Jonah was laid out on a white sheet, in the process of being transported. The last time Duke had seen his friend was a month ago, at an end-of-summer party at Jim’s house. Once the security system went online five years ago, Duke wasn’t needed any longer, just came by a couple times for diagnostic testing, ran background checks, hired I.T. staff as necessary. Most of the system’s maintenance was done by the I.T. team, not Rogan-Caruso. Why was it that life, careers, commitments interfered with friendship? With the advances that Rogan-Caruso had been making over the years, the last full day off he had was a friend’s wedding more than two months ago. Even Sundays, when he tried to ignore business and take the boat on the river during the summer or go skiing in the winter, inevitably ended as working days.
A blonder, shorter, younger, and spunkier woman than Nora trekked over from the far corner. She gave him a full-body graze before turning to the FBI agent and saying, “It’s the same accelerant. I’ll take the samples back to the lab, but I know. But get this-the victim had no shirt on.”
“Wasn’t it burned off?” Nora asked.
“Nope, no shirt. His back has no burns. There’d be remnants of a shirt beneath him had he been wearing one, but the fire didn’t burn long enough to incinerate clothing. There’s nothing.”
Nora frowned. She was about to ask a question, then glanced at Duke. “Quin Teagan, Duke Rogan. Quin is a state arson investigator on the DOMFOR task force. Duke Rogan is with Rogan-Caruso, Butcher-Payne’s security company.”
Quin smiled in surprise.
Nora asked Quin, “Is it okay for Duke to get a closer look at the body for a positive ID?”
“Sure. Look, don’t touch.” She smiled again at Duke, and he didn’t miss the double entendre. “Sis, can I talk to you a sec?”
