“Hey!” came a familiar voice Kellan was growing all too accustomed to, and okay, maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all.
“Hey,” he said, standing to greet Isabella as she descended the last of the steps to the lobby. She looked just like she always did, a few wisps of hair defying her ponytail to frame her face, jeans hugging her curves, and her SIG and badge at her side. But damn, she was the most beautiful woman Kellan had ever clapped eyes on, and the pang in his gut grew twice as strong when she pressed to her toes to brush a kiss over his cheek.
He cleared his throat, although it probably didn’t do much to kill his idiot grin. “Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I was at loose ends after catching up on my sleep from yesterday’s shift. Thought I’d bring you lunch.”
Isabella’s eyes brightened at the sight of the carry out bag from the Fork in the Road. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Club sandwich and fries, extra pickles. Oh, and a giant vat of tea.” He held up the oversized cardboard cup—the biggest one the guy at the diner could find, as a matter of fact—unable to cage his laughter as her expression went from happiness to full-on bliss.
“You’re a peach, you know that?” She took the bag and the cup, tilting her head toward the staircase leading up to the second floor. “Why don’t you come on up? We just got the reports back from CSU on my apartment. Hollister and I were about to dig in.”
Surprise made Kellan blink. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
Truth was, he’d been climbing the walls at his apartment. If he could help them get closer to nailing DuPree? Even better.
“Of course I’m sure,” Isabella said, matter-of-fact. With a flash of her badge and a quick jaunt through the metal detectors, they climbed the steps to the intelligence office. The place was mostly empty, with three of the five desks vacant. Kellan followed Isabella over to one covered with case files and photographs and abandoned tea cups, where her partner sat a few feet away in a similar pile of paperwork.
“Hey, Walker.” If Hollister was shocked to see him, the guy didn’t show it, although the guy probably wore a poker face as an occupational hazard.
“Hollister. Good to see you,” Kellan said, leaning in to shake the guy’s hand.
“Kellan’s not on-shift today, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt if he kept us company while we shuffled through these on our lunch break.” Isabella pointed to the file folders, and Hollister sent a frown in the same direction.
“Only if you want indigestion, my man. These are about as useless as a screen door on a submarine.”
Isabella’s brows shot up before sinking in disappointment. “They didn’t come up with anything?”
“’Fraid not,” Hollister said. “No fingerprints, no hair, no fibers, and no boot prints on the hardwoods. The slashes to the couch and mattress were made with an undetermined serrated weapon, of which I can think of about two dozen varieties off the top of my head, and the marker used to write the message on the mirror is the most widely manufactured in the country. Truth? We’ve seen serial killers less methodical than this fucking guy.”
“Dammit.” Isabella slumped in her chair. “So we have nothing on the break-in and nothing on the fire.”
“Nope. Maxwell and Hale are still finishing up that assault case from this morning, but they checked in to say they’ve heard exactly zip on the final report from the fire marshal.”
Kellan’s gut dropped. “Yeah, I pulled the reports that both Gamble and Hawkins made from the call. Looks like the water probably trashed any evidence you might find that DuPree or any of his guys were in the house when the fire started.”
“Great,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “So we’re back at square one.”
“Not necessarily!”
The words snagged Kellan’s full attention, and he turned toward the top of the stairs, where the intelligence unit’s tech guy was hightailing it into the office.
Isabella lasered her sights in on him, her eyes sparking with hope. “Capelli, tell me you have something.”
“That I do. Grab the boss. He’s gonna want to hear this,” Capelli said. A few seconds later, when Sinclair had come out of his office, the guy continued. “I just got some background on our guy, and it’s a doozy. Ah—”
He paused to look up at Kellan, his eyes darting to Sinclair in obvious hesitation, and Kellan got the message loud and clear.
“I can go.” He shifted to find his feet, but a pair of protests stopped him mid-move.
“No.”
Kellan processed the holy shit pumping through his veins at the fact that Sinclair’s voice had been the one to join Isabella’s.