He’d finished with the car, at least all that could be done here. It now needed paintwork done, and that was going to take a pro, and she’d decided that could wait until this was resolved. But this also meant he was no longer in the garage every day, and she no longer had the option of finding him there now that she’d worked herself up to what she knew she had to do and was only waiting for a moment alone with him to do it.

If that guy ever turns up dead, you’ll be looking for me.

Adam’s words echoed in her head. As did the tone of his voice when he’d said them. He’d been angry. That had been more than obvious. What she wasn’t sure of was exactly why. Because of Geoffrey’s awful timing, choosing the moment when she most needed support to walk away? Or because he didn’t like anyone who would feel that way about a cop’s daughter?

Or because it was her specifically?

That last thought made her even more restless. Her mind was careening around rather wildly. She no longer felt anger when she thought of Geoffrey, which wasn’t often. She only thought she should have taken her father’s advice when he’d told her he didn’t think he was trustworthy. Because he’d clearly been right.

He’s a good man. I trust him completely.

Her throat tightened as the words came back to her again. He’d been right about Adam, too.

And suddenly she couldn’t put it off a minute longer. She shut down her computer, where she’d been pretending to revamp her scheduling program. She spent a grim amount of time checking her news alerts, set to notify her of any police officers down in accidents or shootings. Ironic, she supposed, since she used to avoid such reports scrupulously, as if not admitting it happened could somehow keep it from happening to her. And now that it had, she hunted them down, to see if she could help.

And it was a process that was taking hideously longer than it used to. She wondered if things would ever get back to normal. If vicious people would ever let it get back to normal. That was a bigger question than she alone could possibly answer.

“It’s two weeks to Christmas and you want normal?” she chided herself. Not that she had any idea what normal was anymore.

She got up from her desk, only then realizing Cutter was there. The dog was curled up beside the desk, as if he’d been waiting there for some time. He lifted his head when she stood, watching her with what she’d have sworn was concern in those intense, amber-flecked eyes.