“Are you serious? I’m a homicide detective! I’m never off duty!” Multiple calls from Jeannie McBride, Sam and Captain Malone popped up on the list of missed calls. “Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered, tugging on his clothes as fast as he could, his heart racing with anxiety and dread. What had he missed?

Elin watched him from the bed, the sheet pulled up snug against her ample breasts. “Are you mad?” she asked in a small voice.

He was so far beyond mad he was afraid to say anything for fear he’d totally lose it with her. Pushing his feet into the hiking boots he favored in the winter, he headed for the door without tying them.

She got up, donned a robe and followed him into the living room. “I’m sorry, Freddie. I wasn’t thinking about your work.”

Without a single look back, he stalked out the door and let it slam behind him.

On his way to HQ, Freddie fought back surge after surge of nausea. He had no one to blame but himself. This was his punishment for abandoning his morals for a night of mindless sex. If he hadn’t given into his base urges, he’d be at work right now where he belonged rather than desperately trying to come up with an excuse that Sam would buy.

“Play that back again.” Sam watched the screen with intense focus. “There. Freeze that.” She pointed. “Is that him talking to the doorman? The height is about right.”

Jeannie consulted her notes. “The doorman said he didn’t remember Sinclair talking to him.”

“It’s kind of fuzzy, Lieutenant,” Malone said from behind her. “Could be anyone.”

“No one recalled talking to him,” Jeannie said. “We interviewed the entire shift.”

“Take it to the lab,” Sam said. “See if they can enhance that frame for us.”

Freddie came bursting into the room.

“Cruz,” Sam said. “Nice of you to join us.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” he said, breathing hard. “I overslept. My phone died.”

“Which is it, Detective?” Sam said, studying his disheveled appearance.

Freddie took a deep breath. “My phone died, the alarm didn’t go off so I overslept. I apologize. It won’t happen again. What did I miss?”

“A homicide,” Sam said, filling him in on the details.

“Isn’t that Nick’s friend?”

“Yes.”

“Oh man,” Freddie said.

He turned his head, and Sam zeroed in on the hickey on his neck.

“What can I do?” he asked. “Give me something to do.”

Still eyeing him suspiciously, Sam handed him the tape and repeated the instructions to have the lab zero in on the frame in question. “I’ll be partnering with Detective McBride on this one.”

“Why?” Freddie cried. “Because I was late one time?”

“No.” Sam leveled him with a cold stare. “Because you lied to me.”

“I told you what happened! I’ve never been late before. Ever.”