LITMIR.BIZ

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the tiniest bit relieved.

      “If you’re tied up with this bank robbery, I can get in touch with her,” Zach offered. “Or has the FBI taken over the whole show?”

      “Actually, these two haven’t been bad to work with. They seem to want to collaborate.”

      His brother grinned. “You mean, they need minions to do their bidding, don’t they?”

      Despite his mood, Bran grunted a laugh. “Probably.”

      Not until he left half an hour later did he wonder if he hadn’t stopped by to see Zach and Tess because he was hoping they’d suggest he bring Lina. Something about that small tree with only a few presents under it in Lina’s apartment had saddened Bran, damn it, even though he wasn’t big on holidays himself. This year, he hadn’t bothered to decorate because he wouldn’t be spending Christmas Eve or Day at his own place. Last year, he’d been stuck joining Paige’s family. The year before, he ignored the holiday. This year was different. He had family again.

      Discovering he was being driven by impulses lurking in his subconscious didn’t make him happy. He used his head; he didn’t make decisions because of emotions.

      And, sure, he’d surprised himself with the announcement that he was going to marry Lina, but the decision itself was entirely rational. It disturbed him a little that his equally rational decision to marry Paige had blown up in his face the way it did, but he was grateful now it had. Lina was a better choice. He’d have stuck to the commitment he made to Paige, but the truth was, he’d been finding he didn’t much like her as the wedding neared.

      When she called it off, he’d been mad as hell. He’d never imagined himself in love with her, so it had been his pride that took the hit. Driving through the dark streets on the way back to his lonely apartment tonight, he admitted to himself for the first time that she had made the right choice for both of them. She wanted more than he could give. What he’d never seen before was that he had wanted more than she had to give, too.

      Something was happening inside him, and it didn’t feel good. His chest felt compressed as he tried to figure out what it was he did want, beyond wife and kids. Home.

      He didn’t have an answer.

      * * *

      THE PAIR OF FBI agents came to Lina’s apartment. Never having met a real, live FBI agent, she felt intimidated as she let them in. One was a woman, which helped her relax. Probably in her forties, the first thing she asked was when Lina was due. The man, way younger, appeared increasingly uncomfortable as the two women discussed pregnancy and childbirth.

      He finally growled, “Can we get on with it?”

      His partner grinned. “Scared you, did we?”

      They did get down to business, making Lina repeat everything she’d already told Bran and then some. They asked some good questions. She was able to make what she thought was a pretty accurate estimate of height for the robber who had shot Maya. She remembered that mud had splattered the tires and bottom of the doors and sides of the cargo van, something she didn’t think she’d told Bran.

      “It looked recent,” she said, thinking it out. “I mean, it was dry, or mostly dry anyway, but if they’d driven for hours I’d have thought more of it would have fallen off. You know? It had to have been from the day before, when it rained.”

      “It might have rained here, but it didn’t in Seattle,” Agent Novinski, the woman, said flatly. She took out her phone and did a search. “Or in Tacoma.”

      “Ruts and holes on a dirt road can stay muddy for quite a while, though,” Lina pointed out.

      “That’s true,” Novinski agreed, but Lina could tell she wasn’t satisfied.

      They wanted a better description of both the men than she could give them. No, she had no idea what color the second man’s eyes were. He had been looking at Mr. Floyd, not toward her. Wiry, short for a man. She was sure the hand that held the gun was encased in the kind of thin glove doctors and nurses wore.

      They were even more dissatisfied when she couldn’t be sure what color eyes the guy who’d shot Maya had.

      “But you say he stared right at you,” the male agent said.

      “Yes, but you know how thick the glass is, and I was looking through it at an angle. Plus, I’d just seen my best friend get shot.” She glared at both of them. “It was horrible. Do you know what happens when somebody gets shot in the head?”

      Clearly they did. Special Agent Novinski, the woman, had the grace to appear regretful.

      “I was beyond shocked, and terrified, too. I can still see his face and the way he looked at me, but I didn’t think, oh, he has blue eyes.”

      Naturally, at that moment she pictured Bran Murphy’s eyes, a vivid blue. She wished, quite passionately, that he was here. He wouldn’t let these two badger her.

      “My best guess is hazel or light brown. You know, kind of in between.” She frowned. “I don’t think he had really dark hair, either. Even shaved, his head would have looked different if he did. His jaw would have been darker, too. He was definitely Caucasian.” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I looked at him for a total of maybe ten seconds. This is the best I can do.”

      Eventually they gave up and departed, leaving her feeling drained. Lunch might help, she thought, but didn’t move. Even making a sandwich seemed like a herculean effort. She wished suddenly, selfishly, that she had gone home for Christmas. Maya would still be dead, but her death wouldn’t be so brutally real. Lina wouldn’t be the only person who could potentially identify one of the men who’d robbed at least three banks.

      And, oh, yeah, she’d still be in deep avoidance about telling Bran he was going to be a father.

      Her phone rang. His name came up. For some reason, she didn’t hesitate to answer the call.

      “Are they done with you?” he asked.

      Stung, she said, “Hi. Yes, I’m fine this morning. Thank you for asking.”

      There was a short silence. “Are you really fine?” he asked, in a different voice.

      “No.” She closed her eyes. “I mean, yes, I’m okay.”

      “Have they come and gone?”

      “Yes. I don’t think I satisfied them, but I can’t see through walls and ski masks, so they were bound to be disappointed.”

      “They were hopeful.” Was that a smile in his voice? “Can I bring you lunch?”

      Her stomach came to attention. “What kind of lunch?”

      “I was thinking pizza, but if you’d rather I could stop for deli sandwiches.”

      In the interests of not gaining too much weight, Lina tried not to indulge often, but pizza sounded like exactly what she needed right now. “I would love pizza,” she admitted. “Can you make mine half veggie?”

      “You don’t eat meat?”

      “I just want to know I’m eating something healthy along with all the fat, okay?”

      She heard a rusty sound that might be a chuckle. “Good thinking. Give me half an hour.”

      And he was gone.

      * * *

      “I DON’T LIKE the sound of that,” he said flatly.

      “Of mud?” Lina seemed bemused. “Why?”

      He had set down his slice of pizza, wiped off his fingers and quickly checked his phone, to find that the last rain in south King County or Pierce County had been eight days earlier.

      “Because it suggests they were staying up here for at least the previous day. They wouldn’t have picked up mud on the highway or in town.” The bank was actually outside the city limits because

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