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scoop of sugar.  
    “Sorry, no cream.” She placed the drink in front of him.
    JC stared at the mug, then cocked his head to look at her. “You remember how I like my coffee.” His eyes were warm and friendly. Gold flecks lightened the brown depths.  
    He had beautiful eyes. She’d gotten lost in them once.  
    Her breathing hitched. There was more in his eyes than warmth.
    Longing .  
    Regret .  
    A shiny sphere swelled, as delicate and gossamer as a child’s blown bubble. Hope? Happiness?  
    Love?  
    Time rewound and they were six years younger, madly in love, and spending every possible minute together. Memories of times and places she’d brought him coffee surged through her. Seattle’s Best, study breaks. Her dorm, his apartment, tangled sheets. Hot coffee, hotter kisses.
    She slammed the gate on memory lane. He’d made his choice. “It’s only coffee. I thought all cops like coffee.”  
    He blinked at her flat tone. His gaze dropped to the notebook. “You stated you went to lunch with Ms. Ramirez. Who else went with you? What did you talk about?”
    It was his official voice, cool and impersonal. Good . Let’s keep this purely professional .  
    She pulled out a chair and sat down. “Marcy’s sister, Yessica, went with us. Occasionally, someone else from the office came.”  
    Sipping coffee for fortification, she told him the basics, the people they ran around with, the places they went. “One thing I do know. Marcy hated the Great Outdoors. She would never, ever have been near Big Flats by her own choice.”
    JC scribbled notes. “Where were you last Tuesday?”
    She nearly spewed coffee. “Do you actually think I killed my friend?”
    His face was expressionless. “Answer the question.”
    Stunned he’d even remotely consider her a possible murderer, her hands rose and fell in an incredulous gesture. “At work. At meetings.”  
    “Can you be more specific?”
    “I don’t remember exactly, but it’ll be on my work calendar.”
    “I’ll need a copy of your schedule. Ms. Ramirez disappeared on Tuesday, according to her sister. The ME estimated time of death as Tuesday evening. I need to know where you were during that time period.”  
    Her jaw dropped. “You’re serious.”
    His eyes didn’t waver. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t.”
    “Do I need an attorney?”
    He jotted a note on his paper. “Anything different happen last week? Before her sisters reported her missing?”
    Holly stalled by taking another sip of coffee. Should she call a lawyer? She eyed JC over the rim of her mug. In spite of the way things ended between them, she still believed he’d play fair. And she hadn’t said anything he could twist around—except some personal innuendo he couldn’t use against her.  
    With a sigh, she placed her mug on a coaster and hoped she was being helpful and not naïve. “At first, we thought Yessica was overreacting. Marcy hadn’t been gone a day and her sister was acting like Bigfoot had stomped out of the Cascades and dragged her home to his cave.”
    Warmth again flooded her face. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Obviously, she was right to be worried. It’s just that Marcy had taken off before, so the rest of us weren’t really concerned.”
    “When? Any idea where she went?”
    “Marcy took off earlier this fall, said she wanted to be by herself. She made it real clear she didn’t want to talk about it.” Holly shrugged. “When she took off this time, our receptionist talked to the Stevens Ventures receptionist. Marcy had told her she was going away with her boyfriend. And no, I don’t know who she meant.”  
    “Nothing like firsthand information.” JC lifted a derisive eyebrow. “I never knew you to listen to gossip.”
    “Hey, you asked. You’re the frikkin’ detective. You go figure out who killed her. Just be damned sure you put in your report it wasn’t me.”  
    For a long moment, JC stared at her. Then he closed the