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but I stayed awake long after the lights went out and the workers left. Breathing in the scent of bleach. Listening to the soft holiday music.
    Until I surrendered to the groggy pull of those knockout injections.
    *   *   *
    AJ STEERED HIS restored Harvester Scout through the dark snowy streets. The road was mostly deserted other than a snowplow, a couple of trucks and a car abandoned in a ditch. Lampposts with wreaths lined the sidewalks, white lights twinkling in trees and store windows. Tools rattled in the back along with fishing poles and a jack. Standard mess.
    With the not-standard addition of Mary Hannah Gallo sitting beside him, rocking the hell out of sweats and a blanket patterned with dog paws draped over her legs. She stared out the window, tracing one finger along the condensation. Her sleek brown hair was almost dry. He’d cranked the heater on high, the vents lifting stray hairs around her face like some kind of mystical aura.
    He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to drive her home. He could have paid for her cab, driven to the station to file his report—then gone straight to bed. But somehow, when Wyatt had made the latest transparent effort to pair them up, AJ had gone along. It had been almost comical. Except he wasn’t in a laughing mood today.
    The whole meth-house raid had him off-kilter. This day needed to be over, and yet he found himself extending the time he spent with the one woman who managed to get under his skin. When it looked like Mary Hannah would turn down his offer, he’d been too damn disappointed. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to see her
messy
again
.
    Mary Hannah turned from the window and held her hands in front of the heater vents. “Thanks for the ride.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. I’m surprised you didn’t put up more of a fight.” He downshifted to gain traction along the ice as he turned a corner, the scenery shifting from shops to housing.
    The holiday decor grew less coordinated; colored lights lined one roof. A big plastic Santa glowed beside the chimney of another. A crèche was lit by a spotlight in front of brick home with a driveway full of cars. Next door, a bundled-up man shoveled the walkway. Outside, the world was . . . normal. Cheerful.
    â€œEveryone else has families and out-of-town guests. Parties to attend.” She pointed to all the cars parked in front of houses. “It seemed wrong to ask them to wait around longer because I would have preferred to call a taxi.”
    â€œThat’s logical,” he answered offhandedly.
    â€œIs that a dig? Like with the blanket?”
    He glanced at her in surprise. He hadn’t expected a stray comment from him would affect her.
    â€œJust an observation.” He tapped his temple and added a smile for good measure. “Purely from a detective’s objective perspective.”
    â€œRight, sorry for being defensive.” She relaxed back into her seat, looking at ease for the first time since she’d stepped into his vehicle. “What else does your detective’s intuition tell you about me?”
    He thought for a moment, envisioning her life, her apartment. Thinking about Mary Hannah and “Francesca.” Better to stick with the Mary Hannah side for now. “That your cabinets are alphabetized. You’re stylish but thrifty, which cycles back around to that organization. You don’t let things go to waste.”
    â€œI like myself the more and more you say.”
    He laughed, glancing at her and taking in the way her eyes lit up the night. “Now, I wouldn’t have guessed you have a sense of humor.”
    Her smile went tight. “We all have our secrets.”
    â€œThat we do, Francesca.”
    Her breath hitched, then she cleared her throat. “My career gives me insights into people, too.”
    Okay, mentions of Francesca were still off-limits. “Bet that takes all the fun out of