Free Hot by Julia Harper Page B

money than affection for the
     animal.
    “Yes, I did,” Turner said.
    “It’s worth a lot of money,” John replied gently. “Did you know that? It’s some kind of fancy-ass purebred Great Dane. I wasn’t
     even aware they came in different colors.”
    “Then Calvin should’ve taken better care of it.”
    “What are you going to do with a Great Dane?”
    “I don’t know, but at least I can make sure he has water and food and companionship.”
    “And how do you know that Calvin didn’t give the dog companionship?”
    “Because he’s got calluses on his elbows from sitting in that concrete kennel run.”
    “Why don’t you bring back the dog, Turner?”
    “And he squeaks when he howls.”
    “Turner.”
    Silence. Was it his imagination, or could he hear her breathing?
    “What were you looking for?”
    “I can’t tell you that.”
    “Can’t or won’t?”
    “Won’t.”
    John blew out a breath. God, this conversation was frustrating. “Where are you?”
    She sighed. “You don’t really think I’m going to tell you that, either, do you?”
    John stared at the fly-specked ceiling. This was getting him nothing except blue balls. What did he think he was doing, anyway?
     He was acting like a high school geek with a crush on the pretty, smart girl who sat in the back of chemistry. “Are you targeting
     Hyman because you still blame him for turning your uncle in?”
    He heard her suck in her breath. “You’ve been talking to people.”
    “Yeah. It’s kind of my job. So. Are you?”
    “What do you think?”
    “I think yes.”
    “Smart man.”
    “And I think you loved your uncle very much.”
    She sighed, the sound carrying clearly through the ether. “Yes, I did.”
    “So much so that you planned a bank robbery to get back at his accuser.”
    She surprised him. She laughed out loud. The sound was husky and low and tugged at his loins. “Is that what you believe?”
    “Didn’t you?”
    She made a noncommittal sound.
    “I saw you grab the key from Hyman’s desk and skip right into that bank vault like it was planned.”
    “Looks can be deceiving,” she whispered.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Silence.
    He sighed. “Of course, you left the entire contents of the safe deposit box on Hyman’s bed tonight, which would lead some
     to believe it wasn’t the money you were after.”
    More silence.
    “Did you see today’s crossword puzzle?” he asked softly.
    “What?”
    “The
Wisconsin State Journal
crossword.” He shifted and reached for the newspaper from the bedside table where he’d left it this morning, nearly eighteen
     hours ago.
    “Now, when would I have had the time to do that?” She sounded grumpy.
    He smiled. “I got stuck a couple of times. Fifteen down, four letters, messenger goddess.”
    “Iris.”
    “Really?” He pulled out the bedside-table drawer and found a pen. “How about Indian royal, five letters.”
    “Ranee. You must not do too many crosswords. They’re always using
ranee.
”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah. And the crosswords in the local papers are real easy. You should try the
New York Times
or the
Chicago Tribune.
”
    “Really. Didn’t know that.” He tossed the pen and newspaper aside. “You’ll have to teach me proper crossword etiquette.”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
    “Maybe not, but it’d be fun.”
    “Good night, Special Agent MacKinnon.”
    “John.”
    “What?”
    “Call me John.”
    A pause. “Good night, John.”
    The line clicked because she’d hung up, but he said it anyway. “Good night, Turner.”
    Then he punched off and put the phone on his bedside table. God, he was tired. It had been a long, long day, and he was at
     the point where it was hard to think. He needed to think. Something about Turner and the bank president . . . 
    John snorted. Hyman wanted round-the-clock security for himself and his house now. He claimed that Turner was on a vendetta
     against him. The sheriff had politely