Page 8 of Trap ’N’ Trace

“How will you figure that out?” She found herself suddenly intrigued by the investigative process.

“By sticking close to Detective Paulson and by reviewing every stitch of evidence.”

Feeling awkward about his proximity, she tugged the blanket closer around her shoulders. “Did you know Rebecca Garman personally?”

“Yeah.” A shadow darkened his eyes, something more than just anger. Grief. She easily recognized it. “When I graduated from the academy, she was my training agent.”

“I’m sorry.” It couldn’t be easy losing a mentor. She suspected Rebecca Garman had also been his friend.

“Thanks.” There was deep emotion in that one word. After their first encounter, perhaps she, too, was guilty of prejudgment. Maybe he was human after all.

Remy lowered her head to his thigh, watching him with big, expressive eyes.

“Did she have family?”

He rested his big hand on the dog’s head, gently sifting long fingers through the golden-brown fur. “Her husband is flying back from a business trip, and her children will be here tomorrow.”

To plan Rebecca’s funeral.

The organ-like doorbell echoed throughout the foyer and living room.

Agent Andrews tensed. “What is that?”

Remy snorted. Angus lifted his head and stared at the door.

“That would be the doorbell. I’ll get it.” Emily stood. “It’s probably the press. Once in a while they climb the fence.”

Kat groaned. “I’m not in the mood for this.” Actually, she was never in the mood to be interviewed but tolerated it because it was good publicity for the Haven and the other charities she supported. Another downside to being a Vandenburg. Most days, it seemed like there were more downsides than up.

“In that case, I’ve got this.” Agent Andrews slipped out from behind her then went to the door before Emily could open it. Remy trotted after him, picking up on some unspoken command.

That one simple act left her wondering if she’d ever be so in sync with anyone. Doubtful. Not after Chad, and certainly not after being so duped by him.

The doorbell chimed again, but she wasn’t worried. As big and intimidating as the agent and his dog were, she didn’t doubt he could kick any trespassers into the next county.

…

Dayne opened the door, preparing to tell the vultures to take a hike or get arrested.

A man wearing a suit that probably cost more than two of his biweekly paychecks stared at him from ice-cold gray eyes. Behind him, a silver Jaguar glinted in the sunlight. When he tried pushing past, Dayne planted a hand in the guy’s chest, sending him stumbling back.

Remy lowered her head, uttering a low growl.

“What the hell?” the guy sputtered. “Let me in.”

“No.” Dayne hooked his thumbs on his belt, intentionally drawing attention to the gold badge and holstered Glock.

“Step. Aside.”

“Not happening.” Dayne crossed his arms, meeting the other man’s glare and taking an instant dislike to the guy. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard Emily biting back a snicker.

“It’s all right,” Kat called out. “Emily, tell him Colin can come in.”

For an instant longer, their gazes remained locked, Dayne’s with a warning that whoever he was, he’d better play nice.

“Katrina,” the guy—Colin—called out as Dayne allowed him in.

Not that Dayne cared, but she’d told him to call her Kat.