Brody’s gaze fixed on the pictures. “He posed her carefully, and he wanted you to see that. She wasn’t discovered for a day and a half. Her body position changed, either from the wind or animals. But what bothers me is that he sent it directly to you.”

Stella lifted a shoulder. “He probably saw me on the news.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either, but there isn’t anything I can do about it.” Though Stella wished she could avoid the media, dealing with them was part of the job, especially when her boss kept shoving her in front of the cameras to prove he was an equal opportunity employer.

“I’m following you home.”

“I was going to finish my notes first.”

“Well, now you’re not.” Brody stood, his posture stiff.

“You’re right.” Stella packed up her briefcase. “I can finish at home. And thank you.”

“I’m saying this both as your superior and your friend.” Brody escorted her to her car. “You are to take backup with you everywhere. Me, Lance, Mac, someone. I don’t even want you walking to your mailbox alone. You are to take zero chances. Whoever killed Missy Green has singled you out for special attention.”

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

The air was sticky and hot as Mac climbed into Stella’s cruiser late Friday morning. Her charcoal slacks and white blouse were all business, as was the weapon at her hip. But she’d have to wear a Sumo wrestler costume to cover those curves.

She turned to hand him a take-out cup of coffee.

“Thanks.” He fastened his seat belt and took a long sip. Sleep hadn’t come easily the night before. The insomnia had nothing to do with his wound. As the ER doc had promised, pain wasn’t keeping him up at night. At worst, his stitches itched. It was thoughts of death that invaded Mac’s dreams. A woman lying on a dark road. Cheryl, Lee, and the Colonel all made special appearances until Mac woke sad and frustrated. He couldn’t even escape his grief in sleep.

Stella’s gaze lingered on his face. “No time to shave?”

“Rough night.” He reached up to feel his jaw. Stubble rasped under his fingers. “I thought you liked the scruff.”

“I do.” The blush on her fair cheeks sent a warm wave of pleasure through him. Why didn’t he dream of her last night? His imagination did a fine job of conjuring the feel of her skin under his hands, the taste of her . . .”

Yeah. Those images would keep the nightmares away. He made a mental note to think of her the next time he closed his eyes. A vision of Stella, naked in his bed, flashed into his mind.

Not now.