“I’m going to…I’m going to go ahead and head out,” he said,and my eyes snapped open.He was staring at the wall again as disappointment,remorse, and a hundred other messy emotions churned inside me.“Keep the movie.We’ll watch it later.”
A knot formed in the base of my throat.For some reason, Ididn’t think “later” was going to come soon.
“Okay?”he asked.
Pressing my lips together, I nodded as he rose and then Iforced a smile when he bent over, pressing his lips against my forehead.Mychest squeezed at the sweet gesture, and somehow I managed to walk him to thedoor and to say good-bye.And when I closed the door, I leaned against it,pressing my balled hands against my eyes.
The sick feeling expanded, circling my heart.There was agood chance that in such a short period of time, I’d fallen for Colton and I…Imight have already lost him.
Chapter 12
Colton had texted Monday morning asking if I couldstop by the office today to look at the photos again, but when I got there, hewasn’t there.I tried not to take it personally as I was handed off toDetective Hart and taken into a private room, but it was hard.My stomachchurned as Detective Hart spread glossy photographs across the scratchedsurface of the table.
I wanted to ask where Colton was.Hell, I wanted to whip outmy phone and text him.Call him.
“Just take your time,” he said, sitting back in the metalchair.“There’s no rush.”
My gaze flickered over the photographs as my heart startedpounding in my chest.I needed to focus.Priorities.Right now, what hadhappened with Colton wasn’t the most important thing going on.
The shooter was still out there.
Taking my time, I looked at each of the photos spread out infront of me.At first, they all looked alike—men in their upper twenties, baldwith tats on the neck or just on their arms.I’d looked at twenty or so beforeDetective Hart added five more photos to the mix.I glanced over at them.
My heart stopped as I sucked in an unsteady breath.Ireached over, picking up the third photograph, and held it close.There werethree shots: full frontal and two profiles.
“Ms.Ramsey?”
For a moment I couldn’t get my tongue to work.Like it wasglued to the roof of my mouth.My hand trembled as I stared at the face of theman I’d seen shoot someone—kill someone.My throat was dry.“It’s him.”
Detective Hart leaned forward, placing his forearm on thetable.“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”I cleared my throat.“That’s him.”Unable tolook at the photo any longer, I handed it over to the detective.Satisfactiongleamed in his eyes.“What’s his name?”I asked and then frowned.“You probablycan’t tell me that, can you?”
He slipped the photo in a file.“You’d be correct.At leastnot right now.”Standing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.“There’s just a couple of forms we need you to sign and then you’ll be on yourway.”
Taking several shallow breaths, I ignored the uneasetwisting up my insides.Detective Hart paused at the door.“You’re going to putthis man behind bars, where he belongs.”His smile was tight.“And you’veprobably saved his life.”
Monday was weird.
I couldn’t focus on the new manuscript, not that anyonewould blame me.I’d identified a murderer this morning and according toDetective Hart, I’d probably saved his life by doing so.Unless the mob guyColton had mentioned got to him first.
Colton.
Throughout the day, I engaged in some major wishful phonechecking.As if somehow I had missed his text or call.Of course, there were nomissed messages.My stomach dropped.After identifying the shooter, I figuredColton would be in contact, even if it was in a purely professional sense.
Monday slowly churned into Tuesday.No calls.No texts.Icould’ve messaged him, I realized that, but I was the one who messed up and Ihonestly had no experience in these things.Dating was so far out of my realmof understanding.Was I supposed to give him space?Give him time?Or was hewaiting for me to reach out?Or was he just really busy?The latter made sense.He was probably trying to search down the shooter.
Sitting at my desk, I groaned as I leaned over, resting myforehead against the cool wood.I was such an idiot.I’d let that stupid, uglyvoice in my head get the better of me.I was still letting it get the better ofme, wasn’t I?Because why hadn’t I messaged Colton?
Messaging Colton would be the normal thing to do.
I lifted my head and gently lowered it back to the desk.Rinse and repeat.What was I doing, other than banging my head on a desk?Because that wasn’t weird or anything.Okay.I needed a plan.My heart skippeda beat when I lifted my head and saw my cell.I could text him, somethingsmall.I could totally do it.
Snatching up my phone, I tapped the screen and then thelittle green message icon.My pulse was kicking around as I hit Colton’s nameand started typing out the first thing that came to mind.I didn’t let myselfstop and think about it or let myself feel stupid for typing it out.Themessage was just four words.
I miss your crepes.
Okay.That was kind of a cute message and sort of stupid.Alot stupid.Before I hit send, I deleted the message.
