of other cops, and none of them had this effect on her. She needed to tread carefully here. Security went hand in hand with dependence, and dependence on a man was not on her agenda.
Jonah nudged her elbow. “So, I meant to ask you. What were you doing on campus yesterday?”
She gazed out over the hills. “Oh, you know. Just passing through.”
She felt him watching her.
“I’ll find out,” he said. “You may as well tell me.”
He
would
find out. He was a thorough detective, liked to pin down the details.
She sighed. “I was enrolling in a class, all right? What’s the big deal?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
She looked at the hills again. “I’ve been taking some public relations courses.”
“Why is that a secret?”
“It’s not, I just … I don’t know. I haven’t really told anyone.”
“PR, huh? You looking to go corporate?”
She had a different goal in mind, but she didn’t feel like discussing it with him at the moment. She didn’t feel like discussing any of this.
“I thought you liked working here.”
“I do.”
He looked at her expectantly.
“I just don’t want to answer phones all my life. Not exactly a dream job.”
“I thought your dream was to be a singer and this receptionist thing was just paying the bills.”
Sophie looked away. That was
definitely
something she didn’t want to discuss today. Her dreams of being a professional musician had ended the night she’d been attacked in a parking lot just before a gig. The incident had caused a seismic shift in her life, one she didn’t really care to chat about on her lunch break.
She checked her watch. “I need to get back to my desk.”
They stood up. She tossed an empty soft drink can in the trash, and Jonah fell into step beside her on the path to the building.
She glanced up at him. “Any breaks in the case this morning?”
“Not exactly.” Now it was his turn to sound defensive.
“You still don’t know who he is,” she stated.
“We’re expecting Mia to help with that.”
“You’re resorting to
DNA
?” She stopped and gaped at him. “What about his fingerprints, his guns, his wallet?”
He gazed down at her with a guarded look, and she realized he’d tried all those things, obviously.
“DNA could take days.
Weeks
.” A bubble of panic rose in her throat, and she didn’t know why. “Isn’t there some faster way to find out his name?”
He watched her carefully with those hazel eyes, which were much too observant. “Why’s it so important to you?”
“Of course it’s important! Don’t you want to know who he
is
?”
“Was. And yeah, I do, because it’s my case. What’s it to you, though?”
She started to say something, then stopped. She wasn’t sure why she needed a name for the man who’d put her in his crosshairs yesterday. But she did. She
needed
it.
“I don’t know.” She blew out a sigh. “I want to understand, that’s all. I need to make sense of it.”
“Some things don’t make sense, Sophie. Some things just happen.”
She looked up at him and felt her throat tighten. He was right, she knew. Knowing the killer’s name and his background and seeing his life dissected on the news wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring twenty-year-old Eric Emrick back to life, or that professor, or give Becca Kincaid back her mother.
Jonah opened the door, and a cool gust of air washed over them. Sophie stepped inside, ending the conversation before her emotions came spilling out. Her headache was back in full force now, chocolate bar be damned. She strode to her desk, which Diane had abandoned promptly at one o’clock per her usual routine. The bleating phone was drowned out by the high-pitched saw down the hall, but the vertical row of flashing lights told Sophie she had half a dozen callers demanding her attention.
She snatched up the headset, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
Calm. Friendly. Efficient
. Her voice was many people’s first
Jonah nudged her elbow. “So, I meant to ask you. What were you doing on campus yesterday?”
She gazed out over the hills. “Oh, you know. Just passing through.”
She felt him watching her.
“I’ll find out,” he said. “You may as well tell me.”
He
would
find out. He was a thorough detective, liked to pin down the details.
She sighed. “I was enrolling in a class, all right? What’s the big deal?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
She looked at the hills again. “I’ve been taking some public relations courses.”
“Why is that a secret?”
“It’s not, I just … I don’t know. I haven’t really told anyone.”
“PR, huh? You looking to go corporate?”
She had a different goal in mind, but she didn’t feel like discussing it with him at the moment. She didn’t feel like discussing any of this.
“I thought you liked working here.”
“I do.”
He looked at her expectantly.
“I just don’t want to answer phones all my life. Not exactly a dream job.”
“I thought your dream was to be a singer and this receptionist thing was just paying the bills.”
Sophie looked away. That was
definitely
something she didn’t want to discuss today. Her dreams of being a professional musician had ended the night she’d been attacked in a parking lot just before a gig. The incident had caused a seismic shift in her life, one she didn’t really care to chat about on her lunch break.
She checked her watch. “I need to get back to my desk.”
They stood up. She tossed an empty soft drink can in the trash, and Jonah fell into step beside her on the path to the building.
She glanced up at him. “Any breaks in the case this morning?”
“Not exactly.” Now it was his turn to sound defensive.
“You still don’t know who he is,” she stated.
“We’re expecting Mia to help with that.”
“You’re resorting to
DNA
?” She stopped and gaped at him. “What about his fingerprints, his guns, his wallet?”
He gazed down at her with a guarded look, and she realized he’d tried all those things, obviously.
“DNA could take days.
Weeks
.” A bubble of panic rose in her throat, and she didn’t know why. “Isn’t there some faster way to find out his name?”
He watched her carefully with those hazel eyes, which were much too observant. “Why’s it so important to you?”
“Of course it’s important! Don’t you want to know who he
is
?”
“Was. And yeah, I do, because it’s my case. What’s it to you, though?”
She started to say something, then stopped. She wasn’t sure why she needed a name for the man who’d put her in his crosshairs yesterday. But she did. She
needed
it.
“I don’t know.” She blew out a sigh. “I want to understand, that’s all. I need to make sense of it.”
“Some things don’t make sense, Sophie. Some things just happen.”
She looked up at him and felt her throat tighten. He was right, she knew. Knowing the killer’s name and his background and seeing his life dissected on the news wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring twenty-year-old Eric Emrick back to life, or that professor, or give Becca Kincaid back her mother.
Jonah opened the door, and a cool gust of air washed over them. Sophie stepped inside, ending the conversation before her emotions came spilling out. Her headache was back in full force now, chocolate bar be damned. She strode to her desk, which Diane had abandoned promptly at one o’clock per her usual routine. The bleating phone was drowned out by the high-pitched saw down the hall, but the vertical row of flashing lights told Sophie she had half a dozen callers demanding her attention.
She snatched up the headset, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
Calm. Friendly. Efficient
. Her voice was many people’s first
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