Free Lethal Legacy: A Novel (Guardians of Justice) by Irene Hannon

injector?”
    “Sure. It’s of no use to me anymore. But why do you want to keep it?”
    “I never get rid of evidence while I’m in the fact-gathering stage.” He softened the comment with a smile. “So what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
    “I was going to do some hiking. That’s the only reason I was wearing those.” She indicated the boots. “I may not be as fashion conscious as Lauren, but even I don’t wear hiking boots except for that express purpose. I don’t think I’m up for that today, though.”
    She liked the outdoors. Nice. Most of the women he dated preferred spike heels to hiking boots.
    “Where do you hike?” He leaned back against her kitchen counter and wrapped his fingers around the edge.
    “Hawn State Park. Mark Twain National Forest. Weldon Spring Conservation Area.” She tucked her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. “All over.”
    “You aren’t also a camper, by chance, are you?”
    “When I can squeeze it in. Mostly, I do day hikes.” She smiled, and some of the tension in her face dissipated. “I tell people it’s research for my paintings, because I do a lot of nature-themed work. And I never, ever go on a hike without my camera to snap photos of ideas. But between you and me, I just like to be outdoors. Do you camp?”
    “I used to, but it’s been a while. Life got busier.”
    “I know what you mean. Plus, with winter coming, I’ll get out less often now. Much as I like to hike, I’m not a cold-weather person. Once it gets below forty, I’m in for the season. Give me a warm fire over a frosty nose any day.”
    Now there was an appealing idea for a Friday night. A warm fire . . . Kelly beside him on the couch . . . a cup of hot chocolate in hand . . . soft jazz in the background.
    Talk about a one-eighty from his typical happy hour routine.
    Yet all at once the luster of the fast lane dulled. Because suddenly he wanted to be worthy of a woman like Kelly Warren.
    She shifted her position, pulling him back to the present, and he realized he owed her a response. Clearing his throat, he pushed off from the counter, needing to put some distance between them. Think this thing through.
    “I’m not big on cold weather, either.” He motioned toward the living room. “Shall I go out the front door?”
    “Sure.” She picked up her boots and followed him, opening the coat closet to deposit them on the floor just inside the door. She aligned them precisely, in a spot obviously reserved for them, and when she caught him watching her, she blushed. “Okay, so I’m a neat freak. A place for everything, everything in its place and all that.”
    She closed the door and leaned back against it. “You know, if you’re right about what happened today . . . if someone was trying to stop me from digging deeper . . . maybe there’s something to be found after all. I might go over to my dad’s later and do some more poking around.”
    The thought of her alone in her father’s house sent a cold chill up his spine. “I saw in the case file that his house has a security system. Is it still activated?”
    “Yes. I figured that was safer, since the house is vacant. I’m glad now he had one, though I never did understand why he felt the need for it. The house is very modest. But he always said burglaries happen everywhere.”
    “They do. So keep the doors locked while you’re there and reset the system when you leave, okay?” He reached into the pocket of his sport coat and withdrew a card. After flipping it over, he jotted his cell number on the back and handed it to her. “Alan’s very competent, and he’ll follow up on anything you find. But if you want to talk with me for any reason, use that number. I always have my cell with me. And I’d like to hear what your friend has to say about whether there was any liquid in the carrying case.”
    Gratitude warmed her eyes as she took the card, reminding him again how alone she was—and how tough it