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insisted on waiting in his office before he arrived.
    Kate turned her legs to one side. “I apologize for not remaining in the lobby, Mr. Jericho, but I’m sure Mr. Downing told you about this morning’s delivery.”
    Was that a tremor he heard in her voice? Brad removed his jacket, tossed it over a vacant visitor’s chair before hitching one hip on the corner of his desk. “He said you didn’t remember the name of the florist.”
    “I didn’t, but once I went back to get the card I realized why. The flowers didn’t come from a shop, at least not one that was identified.” She dipped one hand into her purse and extracted a card that she passed to him.
    Brad scanned the handwriting. “I’ll have my deputy warden compare this to some of Ramsey’s letters, see if we can get a match on the handwriting.” The fragrant smell of coffee captured his attention and he waved his assistant into his office. “What about the delivery guy? Did he look familiar?”
    Kate frowned and accepted the mug of coffee from his outstretched hand. “I didn’t really pay much attention to him, and that doesn’t sound like a question a prison warden would ask.” She tipped her head to one side and studied him long enough to make him uncomfortable. “My guess would be detective.”
    He waited until his assistant left before responding. “In another time, I was.”
    “How does one go from being a detective to overseeing a prison? I understand the logistics, but the jobs couldn’t be more different. Don’t you miss the adrenaline rush from capturing the bad guys?”
    Brad folded his arms. He felt like he was being interviewed. “Do you have a recorder going in your purse?”
    She smiled, just a slight twisting of her lips, but it punched him in the stomach like a clenched fist. “Sorry. Old habits and all that.” For a moment she lowered her guard, giving Brad a brief glimpse of the woman behind the reporter. Then she looked up and the mask was firmly back in place. “John Ramsey couldn’t possibly have sent me those flowers.”
    “You’d be surprised at what prisoners can do. Those serving long sentences have a lot of time on their hands. They usually put it to use coming up with ways to skate around the system and get things done on the outside.”
    Kate’s nibbled her bottom lip, drawing Brad’s undivided attention. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not easily scared away.”
    The nuance in her voice had him straightening, moving away from the desk. Though he’d chosen another career path he’d never fully left the detective behind, and years of practice had him hearing things she hadn’t yet said. Kate couldn’t seriously want another interview with Ramsey after this.
    “Since I’m here anyway, I’d like to have another chat with Mr. Ramsey.” She slipped a polished smile onto her face and directed lethal hazel eyes up at him.
    He almost hated that he’d been right because he could watch that smile for hours. “I gave you my decision on your last visit, Miss Elliott. Learning that one of my death row inmates managed to send you flowers certainly hasn’t given me any reason to change my mind.”
    “Mr. Jericho, it’s obvious that Mr. Ramsey wants to get under my skin, and I don’t know why he chose me. But he did, and I need answers I can’t get from you or a police officer standing guard outside my house.” She finished the last part of the sentence with a glower.
    Brad chuckled. “Overprotective father?”
    “Boss.”
    “It might not hurt to have someone keep an eye out for a couple of days, just to see where Ramsey’s going with this.” Brad removed his coat from the chair next to hers and sat. She didn’t shrink back or seem unnerved by his presence, which told him she could hold her own. That would have worked if she weren’t dealing with a psychopath, but if she thought she could take on Ramsey and come out the winner, she couldn’t be more wrong.
    Kate turned to one side in the