Leigh turned to face him in the dimness, charmed by his talk of his mother.

“Is your family here in town or—”

“San Antonio,” he said. “What about you?”

“My mother’s in Houston. My parents split when I was twelve, so it was just the two of us for a long time.”

Leigh needed to call her mom and tell her about tonight. She was dreading it, though, because her mother was always warning her about working late by herself.

She had a sudden flash of memory—being slammed to the floor, and all the air leaving her lungs in a big whoosh. The lack of oxygen and that massive weight on her body had terrified her.

Leigh shook off the memory and took a chair. She expected Brandon to take the one beside her, but instead he lowered himself onto the end of the chaise lounge. For the first time since she’d met him, they were at eye level.

She sipped her beer and offered it to him, but he shook his head. She set the bottle on the table.

“Leigh.”

She looked at him.

“Are you really okay?”

The quiet question made her throat tighten.

She shrugged. “I’m not seriously injured or anything. Just freaked out.”

He held her gaze, and there was something steadying about those deep dark eyes. He didn’t give her BS or platitudes, and she felt grateful. She wondered how many assault victims he’d talked to over the years. And then her mind started going down the path it had been going down earlier, wondering if he was here as a friend or a cop or some less-defined role. Leigh was used to compartmentalizing her life. But so far their relationship—if you could call it that—defied classification. They’d met through work. But they kept crossing paths on their personal time. And they both knew it wasn’t an accident.

“We talked to Charles,” he said.

“Charles?”

“Charles Foley. The private investigator who offices in your building.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “He goes by C.J. Did you meet him?”

“Talked to him on the phone. He said he’s got multiple security cams with visibility of the alleys on either side of the building, as well as his entrance in back. He said he’ll get us the footage.”

“Good.” She took a swig of beer, letting the cold liquid soothe her throat. Talking about the attack was putting a knot in her stomach. “What else?”

“I wanted to ask again if you remember anything from before.”

“Before what?”

“Before you went inside the office. Did you notice any suspicious vehicles when you pulled up, or any people hanging around?”

“I answered all this already.”

“I know.”

She just looked at him.

“Sometimes people remember details later,” he said. “Things that seemed like nothing at the time.”