Embracing Midnight by Devyn Quinn Page A

shuffled from field investigation to desk work, as nothing more than a glorified secretary. The cases she worked ranged from the mundane to just plain boring, not even a challenge. Her penance for being a bad girl. She’d been close to asking for a transfer when Roger had called her into his office and informed her she was on his team.
    Callie had taken it as a sign that things were thawing between them, that they’d proceed with their relationship as professionals and nothing more. The arrival of the roses had thrown her. Surely he was just being kind; surely it hadn’t been an overture toward taking up where they’d left off.
    She wouldn’t know until she saw him. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him. Keeping her panties up while being around a man like Roger was a tough order for any woman.
    Sighing, she smoothed a few stray wisps of hair behind her ears, then wrapped her hands around her coffee cup. Its warm surface was soothing. She lifted it to her lips and drank. Her hands, she noticed, trembled. A gurgle reminded her she’d soon need some breakfast. As usual, she’d have to eat out. There wasn’t a morsel of food in the place.
    Norton agreed. “This one’s been a real bitch. I swear to God, I’ve never seen people who can disappear so damn fast. I no more than get an ID on them, and they’re gone.”
    Another long draw on the cigarette. Its tip glowed red before dying into ashes. “You think they’re feeling the heat?”
    Mouth drawing down in a vexed frown, Callie crinkled her brow in thought. Thinking back on her time with Drake, she couldn’t recall a moment when he’d seemed uncomfortable or ill at ease in her company. She wasn’t sure what it felt like to be a wanted criminal, but she knew if she’d been the fox in the henhouse that she’d be nervous as hell about the farmer toting the shotgun. Drake hadn’t acted a bit out of the ordinary. Either he was a very good actor, or he didn’t know. Or he did know and was setting a trap.
    “I just don’t know,” she finally admitted. “Which is probably why I’m not the brains behind the investigation.”
    Norton nodded. “Yeah. This one’s always been Roger’s baby.”
    Callie leaned forward, placing her elbows on the counter and massaging her temples with her fingers. No one blamed Roger for wanting to get Drake into custody. If Drake weren’t the murderer, perhaps enough leverage could be applied to find out who was.
    A tremor shimmied down her spine at the thought of the two men in the same room. That would not be pleasant to witness at all. Had Roger not been an agent of the law, his pursuit of Drake would have bordered on vigilantism. In the back of her mind, Callie wasn’t quite sure one of his agents wouldn’t pull the trigger if given the chance and a clear shot. Several had volunteered to do the job. Roger would probably reserve the honor for himself.
    Very probable and very possible. Such an incident could probably be swept under the rug without much fuss or bother. She doubted any of their superiors would care much.
    Callie took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. Yuck. Cold. She found herself wishing for a tall double mocha latte with extra whipped cream and a warm croissant with sausage, egg, and cheese to appear. Instant was fine to get your eyes open, but she needed a real cup of coffee.
    Norton took the hint. “You want me to skip out for something? There’s a bakery down the street. I can grab some donuts and better coffee.”
    Callie considered his scruffy vagabond look. Few would suspect a well-educated, well-spoken man existed under the layers of grime and shabby clothing. “Sure. Donuts would be great.”
    Inwardly she winced. Junk food wasn’t her normal choice, but with her schedule so whacked, she’d been eating catch-as-catch-can, and none of her choices had been healthful in the least. Add in the fact she’d been scrimping on her exercise, frequently missing her regular routine of a thousand sit-ups