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Lucas.
    His Lucas? Really? He was fucking losing it. He didn’t have time to think about the weird connection he felt to the man. He needed to get his head on straight and focus on what he needed to do.
    He turned to his computer and pulled up the software he needed to run Lucas’s name and date of birth. The search came back quickly with no record of criminal activity, not so much as a parking ticket. The guy was squeaky clean.
    Declan scrubbed his hand down his face. This was going to be difficult. He had no leads, nothing to go on, and an uncooperative victim. If he wanted to get this case solved, he was going to have to crack Lucas in order to do it.
    He shut down his computer and tucked the case file under his arm. It was after noon and he still hadn’t showered or changed.
     
     
    D ECLAN DROVE home as quickly as he could and started stripping his clothes off the moment the front door closed. He felt disgusting. Walking into his bathroom, he cranked the hot water on as high as it would go and then stepped under the spray.
    It felt so good to have the scalding water pounding down on his skin. He felt as though he was washing away the stress and anxiety of the last twenty-four hours, and he watched as it swirled down the drain and away forever. The heat and steam closed in on him and made him feel loose and relaxed. His eyelids began to droop. He was so fucking tired. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for the next three days.
    After twisting the faucet off, Declan grabbed the white towel that hung on the rack next to the tub. His body was still damp as he crawled between the sheets of his bed. They were so unbelievably soft. He didn’t think he could stay awake for another minute. Pulling the heavy blankets up over himself, he nuzzled into his soft pillow and before he knew it, he was out.
     
     
    I T TOOK Declan a few minutes to pull himself from sleep. He was still tired and very groggy. Sleep had come quickly, but his dreams had been turbulent. He realized he was thinking about Lucas again. Declan knew he should stop—that he should try to distance himself from the case. Creating space between his feelings and the black-and-white nature of the job he had to do was going to be difficult, but it would be worth it in the end. The emotional image he had of Lucas that lived inside his head didn’t match with the full-color real-life version he had encountered once Lucas had regained consciousness. It would do no good to build him up into something he wasn’t.
    Declan needed to get a grip. He lay in bed for a few more minutes, feeling the weight of the blankets on his body, and trying to clear his mind. He wanted to think about things from a different perspective.
    Throwing the covers back, Declan shivered at the chill that hit his bare skin as he walked to the closet to pull out fresh clothes. Although he wasn’t technically on duty until the next day, he thought he would go back to the hospital anyway and see if Lucas had decided to give up any new information. There wasn’t much progress to be made on the case without it.
    He pulled on a pair of jeans, soft from years of wear, and a thin cotton long-sleeved shirt. Shoving his feet into a pair of socks then shoes, he next threaded his arms through the sleeves of his brown leather jacket, and walked out of the house to his car.
    Pulling out onto his street, Declan made a left and then a right before he merged onto the highway toward Ellsworth. While he drove, he tried to come up with a game plan. He hoped showing up in civvies would make Lucas a bit less angry. The guy seemed to have a problem with cops.
    He finally arrived at the hospital and pulled the car into the visitors’ lot. Pausing momentarily at the gift shop, he wondered if he should bring something for Lucas, but decided against it. Somehow, Declan didn’t think a teddy bear or a bouquet of flowers would be very well received.
    He entered the elevator again, and when the doors opened,