Tempting the Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

outside on the steps of the courthouse, and numerous onlookers were attending as well as the press. He would be lost in the crowd.
    If not, if someone noticed him, Holland would be displeased. Maybe even more than displeased. But something in him just wouldn’t let it go.
    He hadn’t wanted to wait for a personal invite to the investigation.
    It was his day off, one of the few he willingly took. He had no private life. Working was his life, always had been, and it became even more so after his divorce. He couldn’t afford romantic relationships even if he wanted one. And he knew now that another marriage probably wasn’t in the cards for him. His childhood had been full of betrayal, and he’d learned early to trust only himself.
    He’d broken that rule for Dani, and she’d betrayed him in more ways than he could count. Although he knew meth was responsible, he’d been wounded to the core that she hadn’t trusted him enough to come to him when things might have been fixed.
    Because he had never really let her inside?
    Since their divorce, he’d turned reticence into an art form. Mentally. Emotionally.
    Holland often accused him of not being a team player, and he knew he wasn’t being one now. He’d been told to take the day off, to forget about the murders.
    Rather than taking that break, he found himself driving up the expressway to a slumbering town that had been thrust into the headlines. He’d tried to dress like a reporter. No tie. No suit. He stood in the crowd, but felt apart from it. He studied each of the participants and those who obviously were only onlookers, staying alert for anyone who looked out of place.
    Then he noticed the woman. Judging by the notebook in her hand, she was obviously a reporter. Yet she was one of the few who wasn’t trying to grab the spotlight, who stood quietly even as her eyes roamed over the crowd.
    His gaze had been drawn to her mainly for that reason. He’d listened with disdain to what he considered inane and often stupid questions. He’d studied each of the onlookers, his mind cataloging anyone who looked out of place. Perps sometimes attended press conferences, though he doubted it would be the case this time. That was for amateurs. This was a professional hit. Still, he wasn’t going to miss this. Then he noticed the slightly bemused look on her face. She was obviously puzzled by some of the questions as he was. He waited for her questions, but they didn’t come. Instead, her gaze had continually moved, finally catching his.
    Awareness jolted through him. In that second something passed between them. A shared amusement at the questions, perhaps. A connection that startled him.
    And from the startled look on her face, he saw she felt it, too.
    He forced his gaze away. The last thing he needed in his life was some absurd attraction, particularly with a reporter. He hadn’t wanted to be noticed. This was not the relaxation Holland had in mind. Still, even as he turned away, her image stayed with him. Blue eyes the color of a summer sky at dusk. Short honey brown hair that was windblown rather than tamed and streaked with lighter colors he would swear came from the sun rather than a bottle. She wore a tailored short-sleeve sky blue blouse that was tucked into dark blue slacks. One leg of the slacks looked different, and he noticed she wore a brace on her left leg and heavy black shoes.
    His most striking image, though, was not the leg but the vitality that radiated from her, even as she stood silent. He felt it even at a distance. He also realized she was soaking in everything. Not just the words being spoken, but the inflections in them, and, more than that, the crowd. She studied every face with the same concentration he did.
    The press conference was drawing to a close. He finished his perusal of the crowd. Was the killer—or killers—there? If so, he saw no hint of it. Nothing that gave anything