The Shelter of His Arms (Harlequin Heartwarming) Read Online Free PDF Page A

looking it up. Which probably means they’re pretty good friends.”
    “You’re saying good enough that Rhonda might give her a phony alibi?”
    “It wouldn’t be a first.”
    “Yeah, well, we’ll check it out. But at this point Flores is a whole lot lower on my list than Parker’s sister.”
    Travis frowned. He and Hank rarely had different gut reactions to people, and he’d be a whole lot happier if they’d read Celeste Langley the same way. As in, innocent.
    They reached the elevators and silently waited—until Hank caught his gaze and said, “I was right last night, wasn’t I. Something about that woman got to you.”
    He shook his head. “I told you, I just felt sorry for her.”
    Hank eyed him, clearly not buying that. But when he spoke again he simply said, “Good. ’Cuz I’d hate you to start feeling anything more, then discover she’s our perp.”
    * * *
    A LITTLE BEFORE TEN , Travis and Hank called it a night and started uptown, heading for Manhattan North Homicide so Hank could pick up his truck and get home to Jersey.
    He had a house on a couple of acres, not far from Madison. It was a bit of a commute, but he’d bought there because his ex-wife had wanted to live in the “country.” They weren’t there long, though, before Jane left him. Like so many cops’ wives, she just hadn’t been able to take the night work and impossible hours.
    They made marriage a risky proposition for a cop, and one Travis intended to continue avoiding—despite his mother’s hints that thirty-three was more than old enough to be settling down.
    Turning his thoughts back to their newest case, he began mentally reviewing the evening.
    They’d made six stops after leaving Jill Flores and had caught five more people at home. Three of Parker’s friends and two of his long-term patients.
    All had professed shock at hearing he’d been murdered. Each had seemed sincerely upset. None had told them anything helpful.
    Of course he’d given them all his card, so there was a chance that one of them would think of something useful and get back to him. Or maybe a detail neither he nor Hank had picked up on immediately would fall into place later.
    That often happened. One person you questioned said something that eventually came together with what another one told you.
    Adding up bits and pieces was how you usually solved homicide cases.
    He turned onto East 119th, and as they neared the parking garage, he asked Hank, “What do you want to do in the morning?”
    “Sleep in.”
    Travis grinned. “I can live with that. How about I see you here at ten?”
    “I could probably manage nine-thirty. That would let us talk to a few more people on our Parker list, then spend the afternoon playing catch-up.”
    “Sounds like a plan.”
    Despite the pictures Hollywood painted, big-city homicide detectives didn’t have the luxury of devoting all their time to a single case. He and Hank routinely had more of them on the go than they could reasonably juggle.
    They reached the garage and his partner climbed out, then turned to give Travis a tired wave. As he disappeared into the garage, Travis started back downtown.
    One of the good things about both living and working in Manhattan was you were never very far from where you were going. Which meant that in mere minutes, barring a traffic crunch, he’d be home.
    Just as he was debating whether the first thing he’d have when he got there was a hot shower or a cold beer, his phone rang.
    Hoping it wasn’t someone calling about a fresh homicide, he dug the phone from his pocket and answered it.
    “Detective Quinn, it’s Celeste Langley again.”
    Instantly, he felt the edges of his brain growing fuzzy.
    “I’m so sorry to phone this late, but—”
    “Don’t worry about it. I barely finished working,” he said, thinking she sounded upset. “In fact, I’m still on my way home.”
    “That’s a very long day.”
    “Yeah, it is.”
    “I...Detective, I just had a call from a