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backwards, giving her space again.  He didn’t want to.  Hell, he thought he’d be perfectly happy having her close for a long, long time.
    But such was not to be.  He had a murder to solve and she was now at the top of the list of suspects.  Not only did she lack an alibi, she also had motive.  Not a good combination. 
    For the first time since he’d become a cop, he sincerely hoped that the woman didn’t have means.  He’d have to run a background check, see if she owned any weapons…   One step at a time, he told himself.

Chapter 2
     
    “ Whatcha got?” Colt asked, walking into the medical examiner’s office.  Brock was right behind him. Neither one of them gagged at the sight of the dead body on the long metal table with bright lights highlighting the gruesome picture. 
    Joe pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.  “The guy was definitely killed by a thirty-eight,” he said, looking down at the body.  “It wasn’t a professi onal hit, but whoever did this was a darn good shot.”  He pointed to the body where the heart used to be.  “Shot right through the left ventricle.  Death was instantaneous.”
    Brock and Colt looked at each other.  They’d shared their impressions of each person they’d interviewed.  They both agreed on four people who were at the top of their list.  The wife, of course.  They didn’t think she’d done it, but the spouse always topped the list.  The administrative assistant was a very good candidate as well.  There was a nanny who might have been involved with the guy, so she was a potential, and finally, Nina Jansen.  No matter how hard he tried, Brock couldn’t knock Nina off of the suspect list.
    “What’s more interesting,” Joe said, interrupting Brock’s thoughts about the feisty beauty, “is the amount of poison the man ingested before he was shot.”  He looked at his notes one more time.  “There were traces of anti-depressants in his system that would knock out a horse.  Ten times the normal prescription dosage.  Not to mention a huge quantity of bourbon.  The man was completely drunk.  His blood alcohol level was through the roof.”
    Being drunk wasn’t a crime unless the guy was driving, so they dismissed that issue, but wrote it in their notes just in case it was important later on.  “Any idea what the poison was in?”
    Joe nodded.  “Definitely the coffee cup, which I’d originally suspected.  Since Silverberg only had a sandwich for dinner, the medicine was more quickly absorbed.  The guy was drugged pretty well.” 
    Brock and Colt exchanged a look, both of them silently warning the other not to ask how the medical examiner knew that the victim had only eaten a sandwich.  Dead bodies, no problem.  Stomach contents?   Nope.  There was only so much disgusting stuff they could handle. 
    “So he had a sandwich f or dinner and bourbon-spiked coffee throughout the evening.  Were there any unexpected substances in the coffee pot we gave you?”
    Joe walked over to one of the tables, read through some information, then shook his head.  “No.  The medicine was only in the travel mug that had been sitting on his desk.”
    Brock and Colt turned, going over their findings so far.  “So whoever tried to overdose him put the anti-depressants in the drink before he came to work.  Or gave it to him while he was at work.”  They looked back to Joe, silently asking him to confirm their summary.
    “Correct,” Joe confirmed.  “The crime scene techs didn’t find any trace of the medicine on the counters or on the man’s desk.  It was definitely done outside the office.”
    Colt and Brock looked down at the body and were just about to leave when Joe stopped them again.  “One other thing,” he said and took his glasses off.  “The victim had sex before he died.  Very soon before he died.”
    That was an interesting fact, both of them thought.  “Any idea how soon?” Brock asked.
    Joe shook his