She raised her head from his shoulder. “Did you really think that was possible?”

He shrugged. “I was afraid I wanted you too much and that somehow I’d screw it up. I almost did a few times.”

“I hate knowing you felt that way.” Returning her head to his shoulder, she was struck by how alone he was and how badly she wanted to surround him with the love he’d missed out on while growing up without a family. A lump formed in her throat when she thought of one thing he wanted that she couldn’t give him.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, both wrapped up in their own thoughts.

Entering his house through the front door, he took her coat and hung it in the hall closet.

“What happened to all the glass?” she asked.

“I paid my cleaning lady double to come in today and deal with it, but we probably shouldn’t walk around barefoot for a while.”

“How’s your foot?”

“Sore.”

She winced. “And I had you out walking on it earlier. I never even thought about it. I’m sorry.”

He leaned in to kiss her. “No worries, babe. Computer’s in the office. I’ll take our stuff upstairs.”

“Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

“Take your time. I’ve got to finish my eulogy.”

She went up on tiptoes to kiss him while wishing there was something she could say to ease his pain. But knowing only time could do that, she let him go and headed for his office. Kicking off her shoes, she sat down to boot up his computer. Before she got to the research she planned to do, she wrote the report on the incident at Eastern Market and saved it to Nick’s desktop.

While she waited on the police department system to log her in, she took note of the fastidious order on the dark cherry wood desktop. Feeling mischievous, she nudged the pile of books out of alignment, shifted the container of paperclips so it was off center, turned all the black pens in the pen cup upside down and drew a heart with an arrow through the Sam loves Nick she had written on the blotter.

Pleased with her handiwork, she turned her attention to Patricia Davidson’s credit card records. Scanning through the pages, her eyes began to blur with fatigue until she stopped short on an airline charge from two days before John’s death. “Well, look at you, Miss Patricia,” Sam whispered, the kick of adrenaline making her heart beat faster. “Gotcha!”

She took a moment to look the woman up online get a visual on her before she called Freddie. “Have you got Elin?”

“We’re on our way.” He named one of the city’s best hotels.

“Jeez, spare no expense, why dontcha,” she muttered, imagining the grief she’d get when that expense report landed on Malone’s desk.