FADE TO BLACK - Thrilling Romantic Suspense - Book 1 of the BLACK CATS Series by Leslie A. Kelly Page B

was like him. Stacey Rhodes compartmentalized her reactions. She put the tough ones aside to be dealt with later, at a more expedient time, in a more appropriate place. He could almost see the way her brain churned behind those green eyes, putting up walls and barriers to separate facts from emotion.
    With Dean, it was usually his anger that he thrust away, shoving it aside to focus on getting the job done. When the release came, it was often quick and ruthless, exploding out of him blow by blow against a punching bag at the gym or with a brutal workout that left him free of any feeling at all.
    With Sheriff Rhodes, it was her sadness she was tucking away out of sight, boxing up, hammering it closed with tenpenny nails. She would eventually release it in the privacy of her home, with a few tears, perhaps. At least he hoped so, because, God, holding on to that kind of grief for too long could crush a person.
    He knew that from experience. They had different emotions. Different reactions. But the same basic method of dealing with them.
    Finally, she cleared her throat and her chin went up. That curl remained beside her soft neck, but every other inch of her was sharp. “I assume there are more pictures?”
    Dean’s hands closed tightly around the folder containing the additional shots of Lisa Zimmerman’s final moments. He kept it in his lap, not willing to show her the rest. He didn’t know if her mind had enough safe rooms to deal with them all.
    “Yes, there are,” Wyatt said.
    “They don’t look like typical photographs.” She tented her hands on the top of her desk and matter-of-factly surmised, “Screen shots?”
    Dean nodded. “Yes.”
    “So there’s a video.”
    A frisson of concern rising up his spine, Dean felt his fingers tighten on the folder, and this nod was slower in coming. “A digital video file. It came to our attention recently, though it was originally uploaded to the Internet in April of last year, a month after Lisa disappeared.”
    She blanched at the uploaded to the Internet part. “I need to see it.”
    He had no idea what Wyatt was going to say when he opened his mouth, and he didn’t care. Dean immediately answered. “Out of the question.”
    “I have to see it, especially if you want my help.”
    “Of course we want your help,” Wyatt murmured, “and of course you can see it. If you’re really sure you want to.”
    “No, I don’t want to,” she admitted. She swallowed, her slender throat working with the effort, as if she’d scooped a handful of sand into her mouth. “I need to.”
    Dean continued to shake his head. “No.”
    She leaned over her desk, tension and heat rolling off her in waves, as if the mental barriers holding back her fury and anguish over Lisa’s murder would burst if she were pushed too hard. “What’s the matter? Afraid a small-town sheriff, a female one, can’t handle it? You should know I—”
    He interrupted her, putting one hand up, palm out. “That’s not it. To be frank, Sheriff Rhodes, that video is something nobody who actually knew Lisa Zimmerman should ever see if they can help it.”
    They stared at each other for a moment, and he saw the indignation leave her. He understood the reaction. She probably dealt with sexism on a daily basis. It was unfortunately commonplace in law enforcement.
    She remained silent, mollified. The tense hands unclenched and she sat back in her chair. She nodded slowly, conceding the point, acknowledging her rush to judgment.
    Calm and levelheaded, reasonable and intelligent. And incredibly sexy. God, where had this woman been all his life?
    Forcing that insane thought away, he muttered, “We’ve got more screen shots, if you need more verification.”
    “Agent Taggert, please listen.”
    Her serious tone told him she wasn’t just playing I-can-keep-up-with-the-boys-in-the-schoolyard, as if he’d ever for a moment thought she would. She offered him a small, rueful smile. Her expression held warmth for