She dropped the shears and herbs on the counter as the doorbell rang. Heart thudding, she washed her hands and glimpsed her reflection in the window over the sink. She looked about like she felt—crappy. She pulled the pins from her hair and ran her fingers through it, but that only made her look like she’d just rolled out of bed. Cursing her insecurity, she twisted her hair into a knot again and padded barefoot toward the door. She was still in her work clothes—a gray silk blouse and black pencil skirt—and she wiped her damp palms on the front of her skirt before checking the peephole.

Brandon stood on her doorstep, looking amazingly tall and broad-shouldered in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He’d just gotten off work, and he still had his gun and his badge clipped to his hip.

Or maybe this was work. Just the thought put a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

Leigh disabled the alarm and opened the door.

“Hey there,” she said, trying to sound relaxed.

His gaze met hers, and she felt an instant chill. Something was wrong.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course,” she said, stepping back.

He glanced around her dim living room. The only light came from the kitchen.

“Are you just getting off or—”

“Yeah.” He stepped closer, gazing down at her with a look that made all the butterflies dance. “I came to give you an update.”

“An update?”

“About the case.”

“Oh.” She gazed up at him, trying to read his face. She turned and led him into the kitchen. “Would you like a beer or anything?”

“No.”

“I’m making some tea.”

He followed her into the kitchen. Her tea had steeped, and she removed the tea bag and set it on the spoon rest. Then she turned to look at him, crossing her arms so he wouldn’t see the tremor in her hands.

“What is it?” she asked, leaning back against the counter.

“It’s about Vanessa.”

She waited.

“She’s alive.”

Leigh looked at him, resisting the urge to bite her lip. Brandon eased closer. He didn’t touch her, but his intense gaze seemed to pin her against the counter.

“You knew.”

She stayed silent.

Disbelief flared in his eyes. But then it was gone.

He stepped back, leaning against the counter. “Wow.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I just found out.”

“Just?” The edge in his voice sent a chill through her.

“Sunday afternoon.”

His eyebrows shot up. “So . . . when I came over here and told you I was headed out to the lake with a fucking canine team you thought, what, that you didn’t need to mention it?”

“I couldn’t—”