“I don’t want to give any defense lawyer something to call into question.”
“Which a good one would do.”
“A good attorney like you.” He chuckled.
“I don’t represent murderers, but yeah, I’m good at my job.”
“And modest.”
She laughed and took a bite of the burrito she’d chosen, the tender chicken and gooey cheese melting in her mouth.
“Seriously, though, if you really want to be there, I guess it would be okay. As long as you don’t step foot in the garage before the place is processed.”
Her heart soared at his kindness, and she grabbed him in a hug. She expected him to push away or at least remain still, but he scooped her closer, and she clung to him.
“Thank you,” she whispered, smelling his unique musky smell mixed with another scent she couldn’t pinpoint.
He pushed back. “I’m glad to help when I can.”
She thought there was a but coming. Instead, he opened his computer and got the video playing, then picked up one of his tacos.
Just like that. Like she hadn’t hugged him at all. Like he hadn’t returned the hug with gusto. Which he had, and he certainly hadn’t been complaining. But he clearly didn’t want to acknowledge his feelings, and she would follow his lead. She tucked into her meal while keeping her eyes on the video.
They ate in silence, and she was about to lose hope of seeing a suspect when a guy walking toward the exit caught her attention.
“Stop,” she said, her mouth full of burrito.
He paused the recording.
She swallowed and leaned closer. “It might be him. The build is right, and his walk is right. Keep playing it.”
Ian started the video again, and the man exited the hotel, but before he did, he glanced back. Half his face was visible.
Ian hit pause. “Know him?”
“Can you make his image bigger?”
Ian enlarged the picture, but all it did was make the picture grainy.
“Can you back it up and play it again?”
“Sure.” He reversed and let it run.
“I really do think it’s him, but I don’t know him. At least not from seeing this video. My ID wouldn’t likely hold up in court, though. After all, I didn’t see his face, only his body and movement.” She looked at Ian. “You know how that can be distinct, right? And I had such a long time to watch him walk when he came toward me with the gun.” She tried to keep the image of the shooter in the ballroom from popping into her brain, but it played in brilliant technicolor, and she shuddered.
“Hey.” Ian rested a hand on her shoulder.
The urge to turn her face and seek even more comfort had her almost swaying his way. She wanted to seek the touch of his skin on hers, but she sat like a statue and tried not to encourage him with cries of distress or anguish. After all, she wanted his touch as a woman wanted a man’s touch, not as a detective might comfort someone helping on his investigation. She wondered if his earlier hug had been motivated by a desire to comfort and nothing more.
How many times was she going to feel those strong emotions with him? Wanting things to be different? But she had to face facts. They weren’t, and if she’d learned anything from losing her parents at such a young age, she’d learned that wishing for something did no good. Doing was what made things happen. Or not doing, as in this case, or not getting in trouble growing up and inviting a chance for their foster family to want to send her packing.
“We’ll find this guy.” Ian squeezed her shoulder and let go.
“Is this image clear enough for facial recognition?” she asked.
“I don’t think so, but we can give it a try.”
“Can we send it to Nick at Veritas? He might be able to enhance it, and if not, know someone who could.”
