Free Deliver Me from Temptation by Tes Hilaire Page B

exactly.
    Damn, the woman had no luck…but bad luck.

Chapter 7
    Jessica strode down the sidewalk, frustration lengthening her stride. The car was there. Only she couldn’t touch it without a warrant because it was a private garage. Otherwise, anything they collected would get discarded for illegal search and seizure. She needed some sort of evidence—besides her findings from her recent B and E—like, say, evidence of a concierge taking a bribe on the side and filling up unrented slots with a nontenant’s car.
    Many buildings with private garages needed a key card for access. Most of the attendants they’d asked earlier in the day had been more than willing to let her and Mike in for a quick look-see. Of the few who weren’t, she got the impression they refused for job security concerns and nothing more. There was only one who set off her alarms. Something about the shifty-eyed concierge in the second-to-last building they visited and his assurances that he knew every car in every spot of his garage—of which Tom’s Mustang was not one—had rubbed her nerves wrong. She’d taken Mike back to the station, the plan being to work on getting what they might need for their warrants in the morning, but something in her gut told her not to wait.
    Jess didn’t doubt the man knew every car in his garage. Which meant he knew Tom’s was there and probably other cars that shouldn’t be. Jess was willing to bet that after she and Mike left he was on the phone telling those pocket-lining customers they might want to find alternate housing for their vehicles, just in case. At least it wasn’t like Tom could answer his phone if the guy called and told him to move his Mustang. Still, the sooner Jessica had that warrant the happier she’d be.
    Jessica hurried down the block, fighting the urge to break into a run. She needed to make a connection between Thomas and that building or at least his car and that building. Which meant more canvassing. And since she’d left the photos in her car that was where she was going. It was only nine thirty. A little late but not so late that she couldn’t start flashing both Tom’s picture and the description of the Mustang in question to some of the apartment’s inhabitants. Or maybe the concierge was gone for the night and she could convince whoever was managing the desk to tell her if anyone actually lived in the apartment that corresponded with parking slot C-15. If no one did, that might get her permission to “legally” check out the garage.
    Jessica walked on, dodging other pedestrians. After a few blocks, she got the creepy suspicion someone was dogging her steps. It was hard to tell for sure when there were over a dozen candidates for her paranoia. Maybe it was the strangeness of the last twenty-four hours. Abandoned streets, missing memories, and then her little talk with her suspect’s friend outside the station.
    Something about her encounter with Logan had really rattled her and it wasn’t just the sexual attraction. There was no denying she was drawn to him. No. Drawn wasn’t the right word. All she knew was that her thoughts never completely focused on the task at hand. Instead, she found herself returning to Mr. Logan Calhoun and his steel gray eyes, the rolling timbre of his voice as he spoke with conviction about his faith in his friend and his belief in a higher power.
    That was probably it. The whole faith thing. Mr. Calhoun might be willing to put his trust in a higher power, but Jessica had learned the hard way that if there were a higher being, He stopped looking out for the innocents like Julia long ago.
    Argh. She swallowed down the hard knot in her throat. She had to get it together. Even with her shoulders itching, she had become unfocused when she should be alert for the source of her unease.
    She stretched her stride, easing her hand onto the butt of her gun inside her jacket as she entered the garage where she’d left her Chevy. With a last quick glance