Free Midnight Heat by Donna Kauffman Page B

unease grew, but all he said was, “Yes, sir.”
    Dane hung up, then downed his entire Coke. “Time’s running out, Adria,” he muttered.
    He stared at the open file in front of him, then at the stack of files sitting on the corner of his desk. “One more time,” he told himself. Maybe this time he’d find something. The one clue he could take to this boss and use as a bargaining chip to continue the investigation.
    Before he could reach for his pen, the phone rang again.
    What now?
He grabbed the receiver. “Colbourne.”
    “Dane?”
    He immediately sat up straight. “Adria?” He realized instantly just how foolish he’dbeen to believe that distance and time had put his involvement with her back into the proper perspective. “What’s wrong?”
    “What makes you think something’s wrong?” A bit sharply, she added, “I could just be calling to find out if any of the fuselage you found didn’t match the AirWest or the Liberty.”
    “How did you find out about the fuselage?” Before she could answer, he said, “Never mind, I can guess. Our friendly reporter put another update in the paper.” He’d been so absorbed in trying to uncover proof, he hadn’t paid close attention to the media coverage.
    It didn’t take much to figure out that the man who’d found the parts on his lawn might have contacted the papers. “I’m surprised you didn’t see it on the six o’clock news,” he muttered.
    “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. There was a report on the eleven o’clock news last night from Indian Head, where the fuselage was found. I noticed something during the telecast that didn’t seem right. It wasn’t until this morning that it clicked. But I’m not sure I should say anything more over the phone.”
    Dane blew out an impatient breath. He wasn’t sure why he was getting angry. Her motivation in calling was clearly professional,as it should be. So why was he mad and utterly disappointed?
    “Listen,” he said. “I’ve got a pile of folders on my desk, my boss breathing down my neck, and an open file that is begging to be shut. If you have anything concrete that can keep it open, tell me now.”
    Her tone turned to ice. “You’re not the only one with problems, Dane Colbourne. You’ll have to excuse me for thinking you wanted to find out the truth about what really happened up there that night. I’m telling you I have information. I don’t want to discuss details over the phone. Do you want to talk to me or do I call Sarah Greene and take this up with her?”
    “Don’t talk to anyone but me,” he said immediately.
    “Don’t order me around,” she countered. “I’m calling you as an investigator, not because of what happened—” She broke off; he heard her take a breath. “Okay, bottom line. I’m attracted to you. We kissed. I, uh …” She faltered again. “You know I liked it.”
    Dane shifted on his seat. “You know I did too.” The words out before he had decided to say them.
    There was a pause, then she said, “You obviously haven’t let that affect your investigation.” Dane had to work harder than ever tokeep from correcting her. He wanted it to be the truth as badly as she apparently did.
    “And I agree it shouldn’t,” she went on.
    “Name a time and place and I’ll be there.” He instantaneously realized it was the best and worst thing he could have done. Just don’t let it be your house, he prayed. He’d run that gauntlet once; he knew better than to risk it again. “Anywhere but a playground,” he added.
    Adria leaned on the hood of her car and watched through the trees as the 727 lifted into the air; the roar as it went directly overhead vibrated her bones. It was as close to feeling like home as she’d felt in two weeks now.
    A crunching sound signaled that a car had just pulled off the rarely used service road onto the gravel lot where she was parked. She saw Dane climbing out of a nondescript sedan that had government issue stamped all