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planned on pursuing it. She had to focus on finding Grandpa Henry.
    She pressed her lips tight. No more cops . She’d decided months ago never to date another guy in uniform, unless he worked for UPS or something. She and Dave would be friends forever; the best way to be with a cop. Those guys were devoid of real emotion.
    “Miss Copeland?”
    Rachel dropped her chin to her chest, and straightened. “Yes.” She glanced up at the detective. He’d showered and shaved, and put on gray slacks and an open-necked, long-sleeved blue shirt, which made his pale blue eyes even bluer. He probably knew it too. She leaned forward, and almost burst out laughing. “Cut yourself shaving,” she said, scooped up Ralph, and stood.
    He’d nicked himself twice on the chin and had stuck little pieces of tissue paper on the bleeding spots like Grandpa used to do. And like Grandpa, he’d forgotten to take them off. A perplexed look crossed his face, then his eyes widened as his hand moved to his jaw. He recovered instantly and held the pieces of tissue between two fingers.
    “Occupational hazard.” He allowed a faint smile. “Come with me, please, Ms. Copeland.”
    “Rachel,” she said, reminding him of her given name. “Where is Stanton?”
    “I’ve sent him home. This won’t take long, and he didn’t need to be here.”
    “Oh. I wanted to leave Ralph with him.”
    Detective Delaney looked puzzled.
    “My dog,” she said, and indicated the white fluff ball poking his head out from beneath her left arm. Ralph didn’t even bark at him. He panted happily and drooled on the arm of her long-sleeved t-shirt.
    “He’ll be fine with us. Won’t you, boy?” He ruffled the top of Ralph’s head.
    Rachel shot another hopeful glance around the department. She’d hoped Dave would stay. Give her some moral support. Most of the cops in the Coachella Valley came in and out of her bar and restaurant. She’d dated some, known many. She didn’t know either of the guys on desk duty. She reminded herself she wasn’t under investigation. She didn’t need moral support, or legal advice. At least she didn’t think so. Please, don’t let Grandpa be mixed up in anything criminal. Please.
    “Follow me.”
    She regrouped, and did as the detective said. Halfway down the gray narrow hallway her heartbeat started pounding, and her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth. She licked her lips, then rubbed them together. She only had to give a report. So, why did she feel such trepidation in following Detective Michael Baxter Delaney to an investigation room?
    ****
    Michael had given Rachel her privacy, but figured the report would be completed. He ran a hand over his smooth jaw. Stanton could have told him about the tissue. He smiled.
    Payback . Not that Stanton had been chewed out or anything. They often crossed city borders to help out a fellow officer. They had to do that down here because cops were at a minimum. The small incorporated towns hired support from the Riverside Sheriff’s Department. He stood in the doorway and nodded at the young cop. He could enter, could take over, but his actions would embarrass the man and not gain him any points with Rachel. And he had other reasons for staying out of the case.
    “I’m all finished,” the deputy said.
    Michael nodded. “Thanks.”
    “That wraps up your report on this morning’s crime, Ms. Copeland. I appreciate your cooperation.” The deputy stood. He shook her hand. “I’ll be in touch.”
    “Thank you,” Rachel said.
    “I sincerely doubt we’ll see any of your camera equipment again.” Michael felt her gaze sweep over him as he rounded the desk. “Unless it turns up with other confiscated items from—”
    “Like if you bust into a crack house or something,” Rachel said, with a nod of her head.
    Michael frowned. “What?”
    “You see it all the time on TV.”
    “Don’t pay attention to those cop shows.” He grinned, and relaxed back against the hard chair.