LITMIR.BIZ

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him on his way. And then focus on dispatching Ryan with the same speed. Just the thought made her tired again.

      “Do you think I could have a glass of water?” When she only blinked, his mouth curved again. “Got a bit parched standing out front trying to wheedle my way in here.”

      “Since I didn’t let you in, I’m assuming you wheedled one of the other tenants.”

      He gave a slow nod. “Nicest little old blue-haired lady. She had a mite more respect for my shield than you do.”

      “Look, Detective—”

      “That water?” he prompted.

      Giving up, she turned away and strode toward the refrigerator, yanked it open. Taking out a bottle, she rose, only to find him standing inside the apartment, the door closed behind him, his gaze sweeping the area. A burn began to simmer inside her. “Very clever. You’re pretty adept at getting what you want, aren’t you, Detective.”

      She could have told him that the innocent look he attempted was in vain. Innocence was one expression his warrior’s face could never carry off. “All I wanted was a glass of water.”

      When she threw the bottle to him, he caught it in one hand. “Thanks.” Taking his time, he removed the cap and drank, all the while surveying the space. “Nice place. I was a bit surprised at your address. I thought doctors lived in gated communities. By the lake or something.”

      “Maybe those are the doctors who’ve paid off their college loans.”

      “Maybe.” His gaze landed on the two half-empty water bottles on the counter, lingered. “Did you have company?”

      She’d never know what compelled her to lie. Experience had taught her that it paid to keep things simple. But the words tumbled from her lips before she’d had a chance to think them through. “No. I was just thirsty.” He didn’t speak, but neither did his gaze waver. And being the object of that intense jade regard was just as nerveracking as she’d feared. “I forgot I’d already opened one.”

      He crossed to the counter, leaned against it. After taking another swallow of water, he then set the bottle down, reached out a lazy finger and touched the one Ryan had left. “Still cold.”

      She snatched it away, took it to the sink and poured it out. “I have things to do, Tremaine. Let’s get on with whatever it is that brought you here.”

      “Have you spoken to anyone from work today?”

      The abrupt transition had her turning back toward him. “No, why?”

      “Last night Jonny LeFrenz broke out of the hospital. Or rather,” he corrected himself, “someone broke him out.”

      Gaping at him, she struggled to collect her thoughts, which had abruptly scattered.

      “How… That’s not possible. He was handcuffed to the bed. There was a guard at his door.”

      “The uniform had the keys to the cuffs.”

      “You mean he unlocked them?”

      “No.” Tremaine’s expression was stony. “I mean whoever killed the guard got the keys from his pocket.”

      Abruptly in need of support, Shae leaned against a cupboard. “Someone killed that police officer?”

      “Jabbed a hypodermic filled with a large dose of epinephrine into his heart. I’m told that would have dropped him within seconds.”

      Horror washed over her. “It would have sped up the cardioactivity until the heart was rendered completely ineffective.”

      “So I heard. The guard was summoned into the room and attacked there. Once he was out of the way, it would have been a simple matter to pull the covers up over LeFrenz and wheel him out of the hospital, especially during shift change late last night.”

      She was shaking her head. “There’d be nothing simple about it. Even on third shift, the hospital is full of people, and a stranger is going to be recognized by somebody.” The detective’s silence was its own answer, one she quickly interpreted. “You don’t think it was a stranger.”

      “Given the choice of weapon, the ease with which LeFrenz got away, no, not necessarily.”

      Even while she attempted to grapple with this information, he dropped another bombshell. “What were you doing last night, Shae?”

      Her gaze flew to his steely one. Although she knew her jaw was agape, it took a moment to summon the strength to close it. “You think I helped LeFrenz break out of police custody? That I killed someone to help him get away?” Astonishment and indignation mingled in her voice. “Are you crazy?”

      “The entire staff is being questioned. I don’t have to tell you how serious this is. Another cop’s been murdered, the second in the last couple months. Two different investigations, but the department is justifiably tense. So I’m going to ask you again, where were you last night?”

      She swallowed, her indignation already fading at the thought of the silent officer she’d seen in the I.C.U. lying lifeless on the hospital floor. “I left the hospital at five, went to the gym…”

      “Which gym?”

      His question reminded her that he’d check her story. The whole scene began to take on a surreal aspect. “Women’s Fitness on France and Tulane. I left there at six-thirty, came home and didn’t leave again.”

      “Did you have any guests last night?”

      “No.”

      Leaving the bottle of water on the counter, he pushed away, began to stroll around her apartment. She didn’t know whether to be glad to be released from that unwavering gaze or to be annoyed as he picked up the book she was reading, looked at it, laid it down again. She decided she could feel both emotions at once.

      “What time did you go to bed?”

      She shrugged impatiently. “I don’t know. Eleven. Eleven-thirty.”

      He looked over his shoulder at her. “Which was it?”

      Stopping to think, she said, “Eleven-thirty. Conan O’Brien had just started.” Looking past him, she noticed he’d picked up the mail she’d dropped on the table inside the door. Annoyance definitely took precedence now. “Do you mind?” Striding toward him, she snatched the pile from his hand.

      Eyeing her soberly, he asked, “Has LeFrenz contacted you?”

      “No. Why would he?”

      The twist of his mouth was mocking. “I don’t know, Angel Eyes, why would he?” When she remained stubbornly silent, he went on, “He’s got a thing for you. He wanted to see you yesterday. That’s why he made your presence a condition of cooperating. He’s still in serious condition. He’ll need a doctor’s care. Pick a reason.”

      “No, he hasn’t contacted me.” Her tone was icy. “He’d have to be crazy to do so. He has no reason to believe I’d give him any help.”

      Tremaine studied her, as if looking for answers she hadn’t given. “I can attest that he’s crazy. He’s also—” A small noise issued from the loft. The chill that came into his eyes then had her shivering. “Who’s here?”

      Her mind didn’t seem capable of functioning. It had been too long since she’d last had experience lying to cops. And yet somehow not long enough. “No one.”

      Her answer had his mouth flattening. Turning, he began crossing to the staircase, drawing a gun from the back of his waistband. She could only follow helplessly,. “Detective. Tremaine. You don’t have permission to invade my home like this.” Her words didn’t halt his progress. Taking the steps two at a time, she joined him in her bedroom, watched as his narrowed gaze took in the unmade bed, her nightgown tossed on top in a crumple of silk.

      And then settle, as hers did, on the hinged set

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