Page 20 of Cops and Robbers

“Yeah.” Keeping his body angled toward her, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I come out here on the weekends. I’m not a city dweller.” His expression tightened as if he too questioned why he was telling her that information.

He leaned forward and flicked a switch. The ceiling light came on, bathing the quaint living room in a warm glow.

A black leather couch and recliner sat in front of a fireplace with a large TV mounted above it. Vibrant plants lined an open cubby in the display window. That he had a green thumb sent a shock of surprise through her. She stared from the cacti to the white-flowering jasmine as he took off his boots. When he was finished, she slipped off her shoes at the threshold and walked inside.

“You can bring your shoes in,” he said.

“As long as a bobcat isn’t going to take them, they can stay out there.”

“Depending on how much they stink, a raccoon just might.”

She chuckled. “They’re fine. It’s uhh…just kind of ingrained. The floor is clean, so shoes stop here.”

“Did you get that from your parents?”

“It was hammered into us at the orphanage.” At least Naomi had tried to turn it into a game. It was the only way it finally stuck for Kate. She felt a weight against her lips, tugging them down into a frown as she thought of the woman she had yet to rescue.

“You’re an orphan?”

She shrugged, though her heart galloped as she walked past him. Her upbringing had never bothered her before; with so many lifetimes, it had just become another Tuesday. But she felt put under a microscope around Raz, and she wanted him to find her interesting, not to pity her.

“What kind of orphanages made you take your shoes off at the door?”

“Not the ones in America—that’s for sure,” she muttered under her breath as she inspected his plants. Many times she’d had to steal her shoes back from thieves when she left them outside. In the American foster system, she had learned to carry her shoes in trash bags into the house. The floral aroma of jasmine eased the tension from her shoulders.

“Are you from an Asian country?”

He heard me? “You’re getting warmer.”

“Japan?”

“Some time ago. Sure.”

“Would you like to go back?”

“With all my heart.” She swallowed the rising emotion. “But I’m in a predicament and can’t do so.”

“Hiding from the law, you mean?”

She gave him a saucy smile. Jerk.

“Head to your right,” he said, nudging toward an arched opening next to the fireplace.

Curious, she headed through the archway into a kitchen with the appliances lining the right, a sink ahead, and an island with two chairs to the left. Immaculate countertops met her gaze and, except for the few live herbs on the windowsill, the room was bare. He placed his boots into an organized closet.

When he shut the door, she found that the organization stopped there. Instead of a dining room, he had turned the area into a disastrous office. A massive desk sat cluttered with papers all over its surface. The black screen of the Mac had yellow Post-it Notes surrounding it. Boxes with folders lay where a table might.

“Nice place you have here,” she noted, swiping her finger on the island’s marble countertop. Her digit came away clean.

“It does the job.” He walked to his office and headed straight for a large poster board that took up the entire wall. He’d pinned pictures and news articles and connected them with red twine. A grid of thoughts.

I thought that was only in the movies?

He pinned a note to the upper corner of the board. A flash of pink in the shape of lips. She smiled. He had saved her note.

“How did you find my hotel, by the way?” he grumbled, walking back into the kitchen.

“I asked around the field office.” She moved closer to the board. Splayed across the surface was all her handiwork as the Bubblegum Bandit, from the items she’d stolen to the crime scenes. Wow, he was meticulous. “Plenty of your coworkers wanted to chat with me, even to talk about you.”