After a quick stop at the Chinese restaurant on Capitol Hill where they confirmed that Christina Billings had in fact picked up take-out around eleven the night before last, Sam drove Freddie back to the office.

“So,” he said. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about before?”

“What?”

“You and Cappuano. I felt like a third wheel on a hot date.” Sam shot him a glance. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, gee, let’s see.” Counting on his fingers, he said, “Pregnant pauses, simmering gazes, and of course the entertaining innuendo. Need I continue?”

Unnerved that Freddie had noticed the sparks flying between her and Nick, she realized she should have known her savvy partner would have tuned in to what she had tried so hard not to encourage during their hour-long interview with Nick. The effort to keep things professional and focused had left her drained. “You’re imagining things.”

“No, I’m not. What gives, Sam?”

“Nothing. I barely know the man.” That much was true—sort of. “Whatever you think you saw was the result of your overactive and undersexed imagination.”

“Wow,” Freddie said on a long exhale. “Who said anything about sex?”

Simmering with retorts she didn’t dare pursue, Sam pulled into the parking lot at the public safety complex.

Before she could get out, Freddie stopped her. “What happened on that trip to Loudoun County yesterday?”

“Nothing.” Now, that was true.

“I’m your partner, Sam.” He gripped her jacket to keep her from escaping. “Talk to me.”

She tugged her arm free of him. “There’s nothing to say! We’ve got a million things to do, and you’ve got time to grill me about something you’re imagining?”

“I’m a trained observer—trained in large part by you. I don’t care what you say, there was enough heat in that room to burn down the capitol.”

Sam fumed in silence. This was exactly why she told Nick that what happened the night before couldn’t happen again. She didn’t need any more aggravation right now.

In a softer tone Freddie said, “Whatever’s going on, I hope you’re being careful. You’ve got a lot at stake right now.”

“Thanks, Freddie. I’m glad you reminded me of that. Otherwise I might’ve forgotten about the child who died on my watch.”

“Sam—”

“We have work to do.”

“I’m on your side. I hope you know that. If you want to talk—”

“Thank you. Can we get to work now?”

With a deep sigh, he reached for the door handle.

Sam stalked inside, again pushing her way through the gaggle of reporters gathered in the foyer. Leaving them wanting and frustrated gave her tremendous joy.