Her silences were as eloquent as her declarations.
“I don’t know what the hell this is. All right?” He brushed a hand over his short haircut, annoyed with himself. All he knew for certain was that he was taking a very big risk. And so was she.
Her smile appeared so slowly he had decided it wasn’t going to arrive before it did. Small victory.
He looked over the tiny counter into the kitchen where Bogart was investigating.
“Let me get Bogart some water.”
“There’s a dog dish under the sink. I couldn’t bear to part with it.”
James padded in sock feet into her kitchen space and found it. He had enjoyed her company tonight. But he was beginning to feel the effects from the overrun of adrenaline spurred by the night’s unexpected call to duty. Usually he and some friends would blow off steam in a bar after hours when the outcome of a situation had a good conclusion. Some men preferred to work off their highs in female company, lots of it. A few got into trouble with too much booze and testosterone-driven high jinks. He couldn’t say he wasn’t going to be trouble for Shay, but he hoped it was the kind she would welcome.
One thing came through loud and clear. She wasn’t the kind of woman who liked to play games or keep things light. He doubted she had ever had a casual relationship. It was all in or all out.
A song his grandmother liked to sing under her breath when she was being positive came to mind. “Accentuate the Positive” … something, something … about leaving alone Mr. In-Between.
James let out a chuckle that was strictly aimed at himself. Shay all in? What would that be like?
That thought sobered him as he ran water in the dog dish. Before they did or did not get into each other, they needed to finish the conversation begun at the restaurant.
When he had filled the bowl and set it on the floor, he looked out over the bar to ask her something. Cop instinct stopped him cold.
Shay was standing in the middle of her living room staring at the plank-and-brick bookshelf that held her small TV. Was it his gun that worried her?
“What’s wrong?”
She continued to stare, her voice gone flat. “Someone’s been here.”
He moved quickly over to her. “How do you know?”
She pointed. “I left those books lying flat. Now they’re upright on the shelf.”
“Okay.” He glanced around, noting a small hallway just past her kitchen area. Books out of place seemed like a small thing but he knew from countless patrols that small things often led to larger discoveries. “What’s back there?”
“Bathroom and bedroom.”
“You stay here. By the door. Don’t move.”
James raked his weapon from the shelf. He heard Shay draw in a breath of surprise. He held up a finger for quiet.
“Hund. Hier!”
The thirsty lapping stopped. Bogart hurried out of the kitchen. He paused a few feet from James and tilted his head in a questioning manner.
James pointed to the hallway. “Geh rein!”
Bogart swung around and headed down the hallway. James followed.
Shay began counting slowly backward in her mind from three hundred to keep herself from jumping out of her skin. She’d felt something the moment she walked in her door. She’d wanted to ignore it. Be with James. But the books could not be ignored.
Two hundred and ninety-two. Two hundred and ninety-one.
Hypervigilance required a lot of coping techniques. Too bad her mind could multitask.
She remembered the books lying prone on the shelf. She was certain.
Almost one hundred percent certain.
Or maybe that was wrong. Her mind was making her squirrely just when she most wanted to be sane and in the moment.
James and Bogart were back in less than two minutes.
He wasn’t smiling. “I checked everywhere, the closet, under the bed, the shower. There’s no one here. And no windows have been jimmied. But I need you to look the apartment over to see if you can tell if anything else has been disturbed or taken.”
Shay shook her head. “I believe you.”
“Look anyway.”
She did. And when she came back into the living room she felt worse than before.
James read her expression. “Not a thing? Are you sure?”
“You don’t believe me?” He saw the stricken look wash over her face.
“It’s just a routine question, Shay. Only the books. Down. Up.” He emphasized his words with a hand motion. “It’s pretty slim evidence of a break-in.”
“Break-in?” She glanced at her door to see that all the locks were in place. Had they all been locked when she arrived? She couldn’t remember how many keys she’d used to get in. She’d been too busy absorbing the awareness of James at her back, of the desire to just turn around and move into his arms, to touch him, kiss …
She could see the question in his gaze. Why would someone break in on you?
“It would take someone with real skill to get in here.” He pointed out the obvious. “You’ve got two dead bolts. Does Eric have keys?”