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but it just got worse. So do me a favor? Just stay out from underfoot. I know you don’t have the first clue about a crime scene investigation. Hang back and be my shadow and watch.” His conscience ate at him. Ellen really didn’t deserve his tirade. She was blameless. But somehow he had to scare her off, because he was frightened by what he might do if she was even minutely interested in him. Doubtful, since he had done nothing in the least to make her like him.
    What a galling day. Cochrane tossed his briefcase in the back seat of the gray Navy vehicle and slid in. The car engine sounded like he felt: ragged and unsteady. When was this emotional roller coaster going to end? It had started two years ago when Jodi had demanded a divorce after seven years of marriage. And now he had the worst possible choice in partner on this case.
    Ordinarily, a criminal investigation was his favorite assignment. Jim knew he was good at it, like a bluetick hound on the scent of a coon. This was his bread and butter. Homicides were like hunting, and the good Lord knew he’d been raised to hunt, ever since he was old enough to walk at his pa’s side with a 30.06 rifle in his hands. Trying to suppress all the emotional surprises of the day, Cochrane concentrated on driving. He couldn’t help but be highly conscious of the red-haired woman sitting next to him. It wouldn’t be so bad if she wore a wedding ring on her hand, but she didn’t. And whycouldn’t she have been board ugly? On any other day, Jim would find her interesting, someone he’d want to get to know better. But not today…
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    â€œI DIDN’T REALIZE San Diego was so built up,” Ellen said, trying to break the icy tension in the station wagon. Cochrane’s intensity was consuming as far as she was concerned.
    About her age—early thirties—he was conservative and all-business—a typical Navy officer. She wondered if he had a sense of humor under that blatant, ongoing sarcasm he called communication. But he was a lawyer, so what did she expect? They got paid for having smart mouths and steel-trap minds.
    The JAG officer was pale-skinned, she noted again, not at all what she’d thought someone who lived in California would look like. His summer white uniform was pressed to perfection, his black patent leather corfams—shoes he’d said he hated wearing—were spotless and shiny. Presentation was something she’d noted a long time ago in military types. Some of that was good, and some of it wasn’t.
    Cochrane’s light gray eyes kept drawing her attention. He was rangy and lean, and that Missouri drawl infused every word he spoke. Ellen noticed his large knuckles and long, strong-looking fingers. They had calluses on them. Why? She wanted to ask but didn’t.
    Pursing her lips, she gazed out the window of the car.
    Cochrane reminded her of a greyhound—very leanand in top physical condition. His face was long, his jaw narrow but pronounced. Maybe it was his mouth, which she could imagine stretching with an easy, almost lazy smile, that gave Ellen hope this tentative partnership could work. Not that Cochrane had smiled. He seemed to have a permanent frown branded on his broad forehead, his lips tight and drawn inward with unhappiness.
    A part of Ellen felt bad about making his day worse. But she couldn’t flail herself alive on that one. It wasn’t her fault, and as an analyst, she clearly understood that she might be a catalyst in Cochrane’s life, but wasn’t the problem. Whatever Cochrane’s projections were, they were his and she wasn’t about to take them on or beat herself up because of them.
    Lieutenant Cochrane was trying to make her think he was slow and backward—the usual prejudice outsiders had against hill people. But Ellen knew different. One look into those gray, deep-set eyes, and she could see what he was all about. He was clever as a fox,