Armed With Steele by Kyra Jacobs

at Grace’s note. Suddenly he closed his notepad and clicked his pen shut.
    “Look, Miss H— Jessica ,” he said, and reached for his pen and notepad. “I think you’ve brought to light several potential, maybe even valid, pieces of information related to this case.”
    I braced myself. “But?”
    “Well, everything you’ve given me is circumstantial. I mean, we can’t go walking in to Maxwell and start interrogating their staff just because Grace hates to have torn papers in her notepad.”
    I felt my cheeks warm. “Are you mocking me?”
    “No. To be honest, I’m pretty damned impressed with how much you’ve picked up. Unfortunately, we’ve got nothing substantial to work with.”
    “Nothing substantial?” I felt my temper flare. “Grace was healthy. She was driving a safe, late model, high-end car, and she was always a very cautious driver. From what you’ve told me, none of her tires were flat, there was no dead animal found on the side of the road, and nothing hit her. And I’m sure your precious toxicology report came back clean.”
    Officer Steele set his jaw. “All true, but none of it gets us any closer to the real cause.”
    “And the key chain?”
    He shook his head, a look of regret in his eyes. “We have no way of proving when or how it got there, or whose it is. I’m sorry.” He stood, tucked the notepad into his belt. “If you think of anything else…”
    This was it, the official dismissal.
    “Please,” I whispered, rising from my seat. “I…I’ve got no where left to turn.”
    He looked at me in surprise. “Well, I—”
    I pushed harder. “Please?” I breathed, hands clasped before me.
    Officer Steele stared down at me in silence, his eyes transparent to the internal struggle going on in his head. I had no idea which side was winning, but needed to do something to help push him over the edge. So I did what I’d never done before: I played dirty.
    With my most convincing, puppy dog eyes, I took a step forward. “You’re my only hope,” I whispered, then pictured Grace, alone and still in her hospital bed. The image brought with it a fresh wave of grief. I held onto the feeling long enough to feel my eyes fill with tears. I’d never been one to play the role of weak, defenseless female, but drastic times called for drastic measures. I blinked, and felt a tear zigzag down my cheek.
    “Oh, man, don’t cry .” He started to reach for me, then stopped.
    “Sorry.” I turned away. Reached up to brush the tear off my cheek with the back of my hand and sniffled a little. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry today.”
    With a sigh, I reached for the empty cookie plates. “Would you like to take some cookies home with you?” I paused, sniffled again. “I’ll never be able to finish them all myself, and with Grace gone…”
    “Miss Hartley, I—”
    I held a hand up as I walked past him. “No, really, let me just box up a few of these for you. It’ll only take me a minute.”
    “ Jessica .”
    My heart beat erratically at the sound of my name crossing his lips. “Yes?” I said innocently and turned to face him.
    “I…”
    He looked torn. I almost felt guilty for employing the crying woman tactic on him.
    “I…I’d love a few for the road, thank you.”
    Damn.
    I plastered a half-smile on my face and sniffled once more. “Great, I’ll be right back.”
    My illusion of acceptance began to slip. I walked into the kitchen and tried to stay calm, to keep it together. The granite veneer countertops began to swim as my eyes filled with true tears once more. But I blinked them back, determined not to fall apart until he had gone.
    “Here you go,” I said a few minutes later, handing him a bag filled to the brim.
    He gave me a weak smile and took my offering. “Thanks. They really are great cookies.”
    “You’re welcome.” I led him to the door. “Will you…call me? If you make any progress on the case?”
    “I’d be happy to. Do you have a number I can