Evan understood. He listened to his gut too. But always searched for the facts. He respected the logic of Sam’s assertion about associates—but Evan still had to investigate.
And talk to Rowan.
He frowned, considering how to approach her with the delicate topic. “How is Rowan when it comes to discussing her kidnapping or the murders? Does she mind talking about it?”
Sam snorted. “She hates it, but she’ll do it. She’s a smart, rational woman. But remember she saw things through the eyes of a five-year-old. Those aren’t the most accurate memories. If I were you, I’d read everything you can find about the case before approaching her. Have your facts in line first.”
Evan nodded. The detective was right. He had work to do first.
Confident clicks sounded down the hall, and Noelle Marshall appeared in his doorway, balancing two cups of coffee in a cardboard holder and a white paper bag with faint grease marks near the bottom.
Evan’s stomach growled.
“You beat me in again,” Noelle said with a grin. “One of these days I’ll be here before you.” She smiled at Sam, no recognition in her gaze. “Looks like I should have grabbed another coffee.”
Sam stood. “Thank you, but I’ve got a cup of department brew.”
“It’s garbage,” stated Noelle, raising a brow. “You’ll need an antacid.”
“True,” agreed Sam.
Evan made quick introductions, and Noelle set her load on his desk to shake Sam’s hand.
She looked from one man to the other, curiosity in her face. “Looks like you two have something to share.”
“Pull up a seat,” said Evan. “Sam has an interesting angle.”
Eagerness replaced her curiosity, and she grabbed a chair.
While Sam told Noelle his story, Evan’s mind strayed to Rowan.
Has she realized the recent women’s murders are similar to the old murders yet?
19
Thor paced back and forth in front of the slider to the backyard and growled. Rowan rinsed her hands at the kitchen sink and looked out the window, checking for something in the yard that would have upset Thor. He rarely growled.
If a rabbit or chipmunk caught his attention through the slider, he would whine, frozen in place with his gaze locked on the animal. Rowan would never open the door. She liked all fuzzy critters and didn’t want to learn what Thor would do if he caught one.
She couldn’t see anything in the yard but suspected a coyote or bobcat had wandered through. It happened occasionally.
“Thor. Come here.” She dried her hands, waiting for him to obey.
He gave her a reproachful look and took one more long gaze out the window before reluctantly coming her way, his head down.
“Can you walk any slower?” she asked with a grin.
He looked over his shoulder at the door and then at her.
out
“You already went out this morning, so I know you don’t need to go already. And there’s no way I’ll let you confront a wild animal.”
out
“Not happening.” She bent down to give the dog a kiss on the top of his head and a hug. He squirmed out of her hold. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t stare out the back door the whole time I’m gone.”
She grabbed her bag and turned on soft classical music that played throughout her home. Rowan always left music on when Thor was home alone. She didn’t know if he cared, but it made her feel better.
Take him.
She’d struggled with the decision to leave Thor home. Ken’s funeral was in half an hour. She knew there’d be other dogs, but she didn’t want to upset him by crying through the service. He was sensitive to her moods. Tears stung her eyes. Today would be emotional. She’d need every bit of her energy to hold it together.
Rowan gave Thor another kiss. “Be good,” she instructed firmly.
His head drooped the tiniest bit. Thor knew those words meant she was leaving. Rowan turned and headed to her garage before she could change her mind.
The little outdoor amphitheater was packed. Rowan stood at the top and scanned the crowd. She wasn’t surprised at the numbers. Everyone had loved Ken. A dozen dogs were interspersed throughout the huge group, and for a second she regretted not bringing Thor. She spotted familiar faces and nodded at several who lifted a hand in greeting. Rowan wasn’t ready to talk and be social; her grief was still raw. She looked for a seat where she could be alone for a bit and found Evan Bolton.
He stood about ten yards away, also keeping apart from the crowd, looking directly at her. Even through his sunglasses, Rowan felt his gaze, and roots of attraction stirred deep inside her. She liked him and wanted to know more about him. There was no denying it. But a funeral wasn’t the place for those feelings. He moved her way, and she took a deep breath, pulling herself together.