Free Tempted Again by Cathie Linz Page B

minds.” Marissa gave him a telling look, accusing him of that symptom.
    “Not just men,” he said, returning her look. “Women,
too.”
    “Are you two…like a couple or something?” Spider asked.
    “Of course not,” Marissa said. “We’re just two authority figures expressing our opinions.”
    “She’s expressing her opinion,” Connor said. “I’m stating fact.”
    “That’s not true.”
    His glare warned her not to contradict him.
    “They seem to have authority issues of their own,” Spider told Nadine, who nodded her agreement and kept texting.
    “What are you doing?” Connor demanded.
    “Tweeting that you guys are having an argument at the library,” Nadine said.
    “Put that away,” he growled. “No tweeting at these meetings.”
    “Hey, it’s a free country,” Nadine said.
    “At our first meeting, we all agreed to no tweeting, remember?” Marissa said.
    “Whatever.” Nadine tossed her smartphone onto the table in disgust. “I’ll just tweet it later.”
    “This is our safe zone,” Marissa said. “What’s said here, stays here.”
    “Like Vegas.” Red Fred spoke for the first time.
    “If it was like Vegas, then gambling and prostitution would be legal,” Spider said.
    “Prostitution is legal in some parts of the State of Nevada but not in Las Vegas,” Connor said.
    “How do you know?” Nadine demanded, clearly still peeved with him for preventing her tweets.
    “It’s my job to know these things,” Connor said.
    “My mom and me lived in Vegas for a while.” Tasmyn pulled the strands of her hair over half her face to hide her scar, something she did when she was nervous.
    “Have you ever dissected a criminal’s brain?” Red Fred asked Connor.
    “That’s forensics,” Spider said. “He’s a small-town sheriff.”
    “We’re not that small a town,” Red Fred said. “And he used to work in Chicago.”
    “No, I don’t dissect brains,” Connor said.
    “See, I told you.” Spider jabbed Red Fred with his elbow.
    “That would actually be the coroner or medical examiner’s job if it was necessary during an autopsy,” Connor said.
    “Have you ever been to an autopsy? They show them on TV all the time,” Spider said.
    The only reason Marissa noted the rapid change in Connor’s expression was because she was paying very close attention, trying to anticipate what he’d do or say. Something dark and pain-filled flashed there for a second before it was replaced with hard-edged authority.
    “We’re getting away from the topic here,” he said.
    “No, we’re not,” Spider said. “The topic is criminal minds. Dead or alive.”
    “Cyborgs are into mind control. The Borg drill through your eye to your brain,” Red Fred said.
    “There are no Borgs in Hopeful,” Connor said.
    “That you know about,” Red Fred said.
    Marissa could see the wheels falling off the wagon so she stepped in. “Profilers at the FBI study what makes a criminal mind work. How they think. Law enforcement uses what they’ve learned to try and analyze behaviors.” She was just piecing together bits of crime TV shows she’d seen, but she thought it sounded reasonable so far. A little incoherent perhaps but fairly reasonable. Or so she hoped.
    “You’re a LEO, aren’t you?” Spider asked Connor.
    “I don’t think his astrological sign is relevant,” Marissa said. Omitting the fact that she knew he was a Scorpio.
    “LEO is an acronym for Law Enforcement Officer,” Spider said.
    “It refers to any individual sworn in to enforce the law as a federal agent, state trooper, sheriff deputy or police officer,” Connor said.
    “Air marshals and border patrol agents are also included. So are ATF, FBI and ICE special agents.” Spider held up his smartphone with its Internet connection. “See? By the way, the sheriff’s department is susceptible to being hacked. I just thought you might like to know that.”
    “We’ve got top-notched security,” Connor began when Spider interrupted