Free Fatal Intimacies (Romantic Suspense) by Isabelle Ali

toward him, a cup of coffee in his hand.
    “Excuse me? What the hell did you say?”
    The officer, a younger guy with a smooth, hairless, face said, “N—nothing, Detective.”
    Garcia nodded, taking a step closer to the man. “You stay with her. She leaves, you better be right behind her. Understood?”
    “Sure. Yeah, no prob.”
    Garcia glared at him a moment longer before leaving.
    When he was outside, he let the sunlight wash over him. Seattle had over two hundred and fifty days of either rain or gray skies. When the sunshine came, it had to be savored. He thought about calling in sick and taking… taking Miriam somewhere. But he knew, deep in his belly, that wasn’t the person he wanted to take. He glanced back to the hotel, and then got into his Mercedes.
    The day grinded away slowly. Garcia couldn’t concentrate. He’d speak with people on the phone and then hang up and not remember a single word of what was said. He filled out the same intake sheet twice on the same case. And to top it off, he spilled bottled water over his suit.
    “You alright?”
    Mark Curtis stood behind him. Garcia grabbed some tissues from a box and dabbed at his pants.
    “Fine.”
    “I just wanted to follow up on the Barlow thing. I feel terrible about it.”
    “I told you, there’s nothing you could have done.”
    “If anything happens to the sister because I screwed up—”
    “I’m not gonna let that happen.”
    Mark nodded and leaned back against the desk. Garcia noticed his bright red Nikes. New Air Jordans, the shoes that Mark always preferred to wear.
    “So nothing so far, huh?” Mark said.
    Garcia threw the wad of tissues away and leaned back in his chair. “Photo’s being run through the lab right now. So far, they think it was taken on a cell phone and printed somewhere else. Latent didn’t get a hit on any prints. So I’m hoping the paper it was printed on can tell us something.”
    “Tough case, brother. Glad it’s not mine.”
    “That’s helpful, Mark. Thank you.”
    “Just sayin’. Homicide doesn’t always live up to the glamour you think it has.”
    He nodded, straightening up a few things on his desk. “No, it certainly doesn’t.”
    “Well, if you need anything else, let me know.”
    When he was alone again, Garcia rubbed his face. He felt tired, though he’d slept a solid eight hours. A stack of files was on his desk, cases that needed follow up, but the last thing he wanted to do was go through them right now. Make calls to grieving family members asking them minute details about their lost loved ones. The wound was too fresh. And they would usually respond by breaking down on the phone, or aggression toward him.
    But, this was his job. And some poor widow needed the closure he brought her. He picked up the first file, and then his phone.

17
     
     
     
     
    By the evening, Garcia had spent nearly six hours on the phone. Eventually, he had to switch to speakerphone because his ear throbbed.
    When night had fallen, he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and headed out. He’d picked up his phone at least three times to call her. But each time, he put the phone back down. Instead, he texted the two officers that were taking shifts watching her hotel room and made sure that everything was going well.
    Garcia got into his car and drove. He wasn’t certain where he was going at first, and then he sped around downtown and got onto the interstate. He headed to Miriam’s house, though he hadn’t called or texted ahead of time. The likelihood was she wasn’t even home, but he had to go over. He had to see her and confirm… something. The fact was, he didn’t know what the hell he was doing right now.
    Miriam’s home was well lit and the front door was open. He parked out front and walked in. He could hear laughter from the kitchen. Several of her friends were gathered around as Miriam’s part time chef whipped something up for them.
    “Thomas,” she said, excited. She ran over and