“I’ll let you know when your time is up,” she promised.
He felt like a man whose time was up already. But he couldn’t think about that now, couldn’t contemplate all the problems that lay ahead. He had a home invasion to investigate and—hopefully—solve.
Sam turned his vehicle onto the street where the invasion had taken place. “We’re here,” he announced.
“I never would have guessed,” she cracked.
The breathtaking estate-sized house had a squad car parked in the middle of the driveway, forcing them to park at the curb. A crowd of curious people was being physically held back by several strategically positioned sawhorses. And even if none of that was there, the bright yellow crime scene tape across the front of the building would have been a dead giveaway.
Getting out of the car, Sam shook his head. “You’d think people living in this neighborhood would have a better security system in place.”
She saw it differently. “On the contrary, people living here think they’re safe because of the neighborhood. They plunk down money that once would have beenenough to buy them their own small European principality and they think that’s enough to keep the bad guys out, not realizing that the bad guys assume that the rich are a bunch of wimps who won’t offer any resistance if confronted.”
“I suppose that makes sense—in a perverse sort of way,” he allowed.
“Thank you.” She took his comment as a compliment and flashed him a smile before making her way toward the front door. A stern-faced policeman stood before it like a muscular roadblock. He made no attempt to move out of her way. Riley held up her ID and her badge for the officer to examine.
The stone face softened and took on mobility as the officer looked from her wallet to her face.
“New on the job?” he asked, interest entering his dark brown eyes.
“Just to the department,” she corrected. “First full day.”
“She’s with me,” Sam informed the beat policeman, coming up behind her.
Recognition was immediate. “Oh, sorry, Detective Wyatt. But you can’t be too careful,” he confided. “I just had a reporter try to get inside by claiming he was a relative.”
“What gave him away?” Riley asked, curious.
A dimple appeared on his right cheek as he smiled. “Got the victims’ last name wrong,” he told her, happy to share the story.
“Keep up the good work,” she said to the patrolman as she followed Wyatt into the house.
Wyatt glanced at her over his shoulder. “What was that all about?”
“Just building goodwill,” Riley told him. “I promised myself that if I ever made detective, I wouldn’t forget where I came from and I wouldn’t act cocky about my shield. We’re all supposed to be on the same team, right?”
Was she for real? He thought he recalled her being more driven at the academy. “If you dip your finger into a cup of black coffee, does it become sickeningly sweet?”
She’d already made up her mind that he wasn’t going to get under her skin no matter what he said. “I don’t know. I’ll have to try it someday. In the meantime, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get along with people.”
“Didn’t say that there was. I just like keeping the nausea level down.” From the expression on her face, McIntyre wasn’t listening to him anymore. Instead, her eyes were sweeping the area. The spiral staircase alone, leaving the entranceway on two sides rather than just the standard one, would have filled up over half his apartment. “What?” he prodded. This couldn’t have been her first time in a house worth multiple millions.
She peered past the splendor, taking in, instead, the chaos. “This place looks like it was hit by a hurricane.”
“It was. Two of them, actually,” he said, referring to the fact that the victims had reported waking up to not one robber but two. “Thieves don’t usually have to worry about being invited back. That frees them up to make as big
He felt like a man whose time was up already. But he couldn’t think about that now, couldn’t contemplate all the problems that lay ahead. He had a home invasion to investigate and—hopefully—solve.
Sam turned his vehicle onto the street where the invasion had taken place. “We’re here,” he announced.
“I never would have guessed,” she cracked.
The breathtaking estate-sized house had a squad car parked in the middle of the driveway, forcing them to park at the curb. A crowd of curious people was being physically held back by several strategically positioned sawhorses. And even if none of that was there, the bright yellow crime scene tape across the front of the building would have been a dead giveaway.
Getting out of the car, Sam shook his head. “You’d think people living in this neighborhood would have a better security system in place.”
She saw it differently. “On the contrary, people living here think they’re safe because of the neighborhood. They plunk down money that once would have beenenough to buy them their own small European principality and they think that’s enough to keep the bad guys out, not realizing that the bad guys assume that the rich are a bunch of wimps who won’t offer any resistance if confronted.”
“I suppose that makes sense—in a perverse sort of way,” he allowed.
“Thank you.” She took his comment as a compliment and flashed him a smile before making her way toward the front door. A stern-faced policeman stood before it like a muscular roadblock. He made no attempt to move out of her way. Riley held up her ID and her badge for the officer to examine.
The stone face softened and took on mobility as the officer looked from her wallet to her face.
“New on the job?” he asked, interest entering his dark brown eyes.
“Just to the department,” she corrected. “First full day.”
“She’s with me,” Sam informed the beat policeman, coming up behind her.
Recognition was immediate. “Oh, sorry, Detective Wyatt. But you can’t be too careful,” he confided. “I just had a reporter try to get inside by claiming he was a relative.”
“What gave him away?” Riley asked, curious.
A dimple appeared on his right cheek as he smiled. “Got the victims’ last name wrong,” he told her, happy to share the story.
“Keep up the good work,” she said to the patrolman as she followed Wyatt into the house.
Wyatt glanced at her over his shoulder. “What was that all about?”
“Just building goodwill,” Riley told him. “I promised myself that if I ever made detective, I wouldn’t forget where I came from and I wouldn’t act cocky about my shield. We’re all supposed to be on the same team, right?”
Was she for real? He thought he recalled her being more driven at the academy. “If you dip your finger into a cup of black coffee, does it become sickeningly sweet?”
She’d already made up her mind that he wasn’t going to get under her skin no matter what he said. “I don’t know. I’ll have to try it someday. In the meantime, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get along with people.”
“Didn’t say that there was. I just like keeping the nausea level down.” From the expression on her face, McIntyre wasn’t listening to him anymore. Instead, her eyes were sweeping the area. The spiral staircase alone, leaving the entranceway on two sides rather than just the standard one, would have filled up over half his apartment. “What?” he prodded. This couldn’t have been her first time in a house worth multiple millions.
She peered past the splendor, taking in, instead, the chaos. “This place looks like it was hit by a hurricane.”
“It was. Two of them, actually,” he said, referring to the fact that the victims had reported waking up to not one robber but two. “Thieves don’t usually have to worry about being invited back. That frees them up to make as big
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