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did she go for sensitive?
    Since him, she supposed.
    It took her a moment where she blinked and then frowned. “Nothing … I mean the place was trashed as you said, by the fire department and the first cops on the scene, who had to make sure no one was still alive in there. Sloppy but effective, that’s us.”
    “Were they really sloppy?” Bryce eyed her, a box of chicken stock in hand. “Usually you’re calm, but tonight you’re wound up.”
    “No. Yes. I’m not sure.” She hunched up one shoulder in a characteristic mannerism that meant she was thinking. “What choice did they have? The answer is none. If they were sloppy, we all were. How could they possibly preserve evidence under those circumstances? They did their job, but it is frustrating.”
    “Who are we talking about? You need to keep me in the loop if this is the topic of evening. Doubts about the way the investigation is being handled?”
    That was a valid point.
    “I don’t think so, and I was at least half an hour late to respond so I didn’t hear Santiago interview the Tobias couple the first time. The scene was impossible to process. Enough said.”
    He said mildly, “Your sister knows what you do for a living. She’ll get over it that you canceled.”
    “I know.” She reached across the counter, took a green onion, dabbed it in salt on the cutting board, ate it, and elaborated. “I just think something was there . I can’t put my finger on it right now and it has me upside down.”
    He scooped the garlic chicken from the pan, poured it over the steaming rice in a wide-sided deep blue bowl, and sprinkled the green onions on top. “Like what?”
    “Something was different.”
    Bryce opened the cabinet, with efficient economy took out two plates, and set them on the counter. “Different how?”
    “I want to say he’s done this before. I think this was not a call for attention, but a private ritual he needed. And so he did it, and did it in broad daylight and walked away, so that says something for his sense of empowerment. He could have been seen. He should have been seen. But he wasn’t, or if he was, no one we’ve talked to yet noticed him. By the way, this smells fantastic.”
    The house had a formal dining room—she still wasn’t sure why he’d seen the need to buy such a large house except he’d told her he liked the quiet street and she knew he could afford it, but most of the time they just ate in the kitchen. Ellie didn’t mind the informality, and when he took the bowl to the table in the corner near a big window overlooking the backyard, she got out two place mats and napkins with the ease of someone who knew the house well.
    They ate, quiet together, letting the case subside into the background.
    After dinner she debated whether or not to stay as they cleaned up the dishes together. If she left it wouldn’t surprise him all that much. Bryce wasn’t blind to her doubts, he was far too intuitive for that; besides, the day she had would hardly put anyone in a romantic mood.
    On the other hand, she wasn’t positive she wanted to be alone either.
    “Stay.”
    She realized she was standing there, and the inner debate must have shown on her face, for he took the dish towel from her hand. “Just stay. Not only have you had two glasses of wine, but you really do look tired. We can sleep together without sex, Ellie. When you aren’t interested, why not just tell me?”
    But usually they did make love. Part of it was that she was very attracted to him physically, but she was afraid part of it was something else. It had occurred to her more than once that she used physical intimacy as a substitute for emotional intimacy.
    That was her problem, not his.
    Maybe she was tired, because she looked him in the eye. “I’m afraid of you.”
    It took him aback, his expression incredulous. “What?”
    “Not physically, of course, don’t look at me like that, Bryce.” She took in a deep breath. “I’m not positive I really