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week” Anita stubbed out her cigarette in a paper
cup. “That way, I can edit it and we’ll be able to make
the deadline. Whadaya say? Are you up to it, kiddo?”
She tilted her head to one side and pursed her mouth.
    “I’ll try” I hated being called kiddo, but it was mild
compared to the names she had for other people. None
of them exactly nice.
    “If you’re going be a journalist, you’ve got to put your
feelings on the back burner for the sake of the story. And
forget logic. Forget reason. Follow the money,” her voice hardened. “Some stories will upset you, wring your
stomach inside out, but you’ve got to turn out copythat’s the important thing. That’s the only thing.”

    And that’s what I’d need to do to keep my job, I finished for her silently. The implication was clear. Do the
story or she’d find someone else who would.
    I set my chin in a determined line and summoned
what I hoped sounded like a confident tone. “Okay. I’ll
have something ready for you in a day or two.”
    “Good. I’m counting on you”
    Half an hour later, I pulled into the police station
parking lot, already back to my normal unsure self. I’d
never given a statement before, and knowing my propensity to become a motor mouth when I was nervous, I was
even more uneasy. Just keep it under control, I told myself. Explain what happened and provide only details
that are absolutely necessary.
    As I walked into the building, my eyes widened in
surprise. Instead of the gray walls, functional furniture,
and grim faces I expected in a police station, the place
had a pleasant air with wood floors and bright yellow
walls. A pretty receptionist with a smooth black bob
and perky smile sat at the front desk.
    “May I help you?” she inquired.
    “I’m Mallie Monroe” I hitched my canvas shoulder
bag higher on my shoulder. “I have to give a statement.”
    “Oh, yes, Detective Billie’s expecting you” She picked up her phone and pressed a button. After murmuring a few words, she hung up. “He’ll be with you in a few minutes. Why don’t you take a seat and have a cup of coffee?” She pointed to the large coffeemaker.

    I was tempted. Really tempted. But one more cup
and I’d be on a total caffeine buzz, and that was the last
thing I needed right now. Think calm, cool, and collected.
    I sat down on a brown leather sofa and started leafing through an old copy of some car magazine that
explored the merits of the electric-powered vehicles
over the internal combustion machine. Not that I could
afford a new car, either electric or gasoline driven, but
it was nice to dream a little. And distract myself.
    “Ms. Monroe, please come in,” Nick Billie said from
the door of his office.
    He was wearing a pin-striped navy suit this morning
and a burgundy tie. It was a more formal look than last
night’s, but no less attractive. If anything, in his suit he
looked more handsome-and more formidable. I was
glad I’d chosen the preppy dress-my sister would be
proud.
    I trailed him into his office and seated myself in a
comfortable chair across from his desk. I put my hands
in my lap so I wouldn’t grip the armrests.
    He opened a manila folder and picked up a silver ballpoint pen. I tried not to notice the way his skin pulled
taut over the elegant ridge of his cheekbones or the sensual curve of his lips. He really wasn’t my type. I liked
men who were sort of freewheeling and quirky in their appearance. Surfer dudes. Wonky artists. Guys who lived
for sunsets, hammocks, and long afternoons dreaming
by the sea. Nick seemed like an unyielding by-the-book
kind of guy, but for some reason, I found those qualities
strangely attractive in him.

    “Ms. Monroe?”
    “What? Sorry. I was a little distracted.” How about a
lot distracted?
    He fastened his sharp, penetrating stare on me. “This
is a very serious matter. It’s a murder investigation, and
I need every bit of information that I can get