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“I’m taking my boat back to the island,” Cook interrupted smoothly. “Much faster than the ferry, and I’d be happy to offer you a ride. Save you waiting around at the terminal.”

Another spike of pain lanced through Kaitlin’s temple, rendering decision-making more difficult. The prospect of a faster return to the island was tempting—and perhaps Agent Cook’s meeting, even if she didn’t participate, would offer opportunity to learn what the medical examiner knew about the remains from the mansion grounds.

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble,” she conceded reluctantly.

“Not at all.” Cook gestured toward a sleek car parked nearby. “The office is just a few blocks from here. You can rest while I attend my meeting, and we’ll grab lunch before heading back.”

As they walked to his vehicle, Kaitlin cast one final glance at the Whitaker building, its windows reflecting the cloudy sky in blank, inscrutable panels. Whatever secrets the doctor’s widow might hold would have to wait for another day.

For now, she had inadvertently committed herself to Agent Cook’s company and whatever information she might extract from it. But she was confident she could handle his lecherous tendencies.

The headache intensified as they drove through Portland’s downtown streets, a dull throb that made the buildings blur at the edges of her vision. Agent Cook maintained a stream of casual conversation, pointing out landmarks and offering anecdotes about the city’s history that Kaitlin struggled to follow through the increasing discomfort.

By the time they reached the medical examiner’s office—a modern building attached to the county’s public safety complex—Kaitlin’s head was pounding in earnest, each pulse of pain accompanied by a wave of nausea that made her grateful for the imminent opportunity to sit down.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Cook asked as he held the door for her. “You’ve gone quite pale.”

“Migraine, I think,” Kaitlin admitted, the pain making it difficult to maintain her guard. “I don’t have my prescription on me.”

“Let’s get you somewhere quiet to rest. I have just the place.”

He led her through security with a wave of his ID badge, then down a corridor to an elevator that required another keycard to access. Some part of Kaitlin’s mind noted the security measures through the fog of pain.

The elevator ascended to the third floor, opening onto a hallway lined with offices. Cook guided her to a door marked Chief Medical Examiner and gestured her inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, indicating a leather sofa along one wall of the spacious office. “I have some medication that might help with that migraine. And water, of course.”

Kaitlin sank onto the sofa gratefully, the room tilting slightly as she did so. The pain had progressed with unusual speed, enveloping her skull in bands of pressure that made thinking increasingly difficult.

Cook returned from an adjoining bathroom with a glass of water and two white tablets. “Non-prescription strength, but they should take the edge off until we can get you something stronger.”

Kaitlin accepted both without hesitation, too miserable to question the offering. The water was cool against her throat, the pills bitter as they dissolved on her tongue.

“Rest here,” Agent Cook instructed, handing her a cool cloth for her forehead. “My meeting shouldn’t take more than an hour. When I get back, we’ll see about lunch. Or perhaps we should head straight to the island if you’re not feeling better.”

Oddly, Cook leaned in and pressed his lips to her brow just as the office door opened and Samira and Matt stepped in.

The frosted glass door to Samira’s office stood ajar, offering Matt a clear view of the scene within: Special Agent Reid Cook bent over the leather sofa where Kaitlin sat, his fingers brushing dark hair from her forehead before pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. The gesture carried a disturbing intimacy that sent a burning that wasn’t quite anger through Matt’s chest.

Beside him, Samira Haddad straightened imperceptibly, her clipboard clutched more firmly against her lab coat. “Should we come back later?” Her voice, normally warm and confident, carried an edge Matt hadn’t heard before.

Cook looked up, his expression registering neither surprise nor embarrassment at their presence. “Ah, Kaitlin developed a rather severe migraine. I was just checking her temperature.” His hand lingered a moment longer on Kaitlin’s cheek before he straightened and gestured toward an adjoining conference room. “Shall we?”

Matt’s gaze met Kaitlin’s briefly as he followed Cook. She managed a vague smile before closing her eyes with a wince.

“Is she okay?” Matt asked as Cook closed the conference room door behind them.

“Just a migraine. I gave her some of my headache medication.” Cook settled into a chair at the head of the table with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to control. “We ran into each other by coincidence on the eastern side of town.”

Coincidence.

The word rang hollow against Matt’s instincts. Kaitlin was full of coincidences. But before he could press further, Samira slapped a folder onto the table.

“Our preliminary findings,” she announced, flipping the cover open to reveal photographs and densely typed reports. “As requested, we’ve prioritized victim identification.”

Cook nodded, swiping the folder before Matt could put his hands on it.

“Have you identified them?” Matt directed his question to Samira.