his."
"You’re reading too many romance novels."
"What can I say? I’m a romantic gal. And I can tell love in bloom when I see it."
Kate shook her head. "You won’t see any blooms over here, Frankie. I swore off romance forever, remember? One disastrous relationship is enough for me."
"Never give up on love, Boss. That’s my motto."
Winking at her, Frankie slid down from Kate’s desk and walked back into her office.
Mitch brought his Ford to a stop in front of Kate Logan’s house and just sat there, looking at it for a moment. He had been here a couple of times before, during his investigation of Lilly Moore’s murder. Kate hadn’t been very friendly then, and he didn’t expect her to be any different now. But he was willing to give it a shot. Partly because he had a hunch Eric Logan had contacted his former wife and partly because he had been looking for an excuse to see her again.
That last thought brought a smile to his lips. Was his physical attraction to Kate Logan that powerful? Or was it more than that? Either way, he ought to know better. Involvement of any kind between a cop and a defense counsel had always been frowned upon. When that defense counsel also happened to be the ex-wife of a prime murder suspect, the ramifications could be disastrous.
Stepping out of the car, Mitch glanced up and down the quiet street. Houses of all sizes and shapes, many of them decorated for the Christmas holiday, twinkled with hundreds of lights. It was a picture-perfect scene, almost impossible to associate with the violence that took place every minute of the day in other parts of the city.
Kate’s house was just as festive, with miniature lights strung through the shrubs and a gigantic wreath hanging on the door.
Whistling lightly to the tune of "Oh, Tannenbaum," Mitch walked up the path to the front door and rang the bell. Kate answered it after the second ring.
In her faded jeans and red sweatshirt, she didn’t look anything like the sophisticated attorney he had seen in the courtroom only yesterday. Her shaggy red hair was in disarray and looked inviting enough for him to want to run his fingers through it. That same light scent he had noticed before enveloped him. One of these days, he’d have to find out the name of that perfume and why it was having such an effect on him.
"Good evening, Mrs. Logan."
"What is it now, Detective? Another riot brewing?"
He thought he saw the hint of a smile cross her face, but couldn’t be sure. "None that I can see. But I’d like to ask you a few questions-if you don’t mind."
"At eight o’clock in the evening?"
He shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d save myself a trip in the morning." Before she could reply, he leaned forward, hands in his pockets. "You mind if I come in?"
For a moment, Kate just looked at him, taking in the friendly, unthreatening blue eyes, the light brown hair with a stubborn strand falling over his forehead, the navy blazer over a cream turtleneck, the 501 jeans. Douglas had labeled him, not without some scorn, one of the new breed of detectives, hip and undisciplined. It was easy to see why Frankie, who had quite an eye for men, had turned to mush the moment she had seen him.
Reluctantly, Kate pulled the door open and moved aside to let him in. She had known that sooner or later he would want to talk to her. She might as well answer his questions now and get it over with. "All right, but please make it
short. I brought work home and I’d like to get back to it."
Mitch followed her across the foyer and into a cheery blue-and-white kitchen. A butcher-block island with a circular rack of gleaming copper pots hanging over it dominated the room. To his left, a cosy nook with a round table, piled high with files, and four chairs overlooked a large backyard.
Mitch tried to imagine Kate in these surroundings, performing a variety of domestic
"You’re reading too many romance novels."
"What can I say? I’m a romantic gal. And I can tell love in bloom when I see it."
Kate shook her head. "You won’t see any blooms over here, Frankie. I swore off romance forever, remember? One disastrous relationship is enough for me."
"Never give up on love, Boss. That’s my motto."
Winking at her, Frankie slid down from Kate’s desk and walked back into her office.
Mitch brought his Ford to a stop in front of Kate Logan’s house and just sat there, looking at it for a moment. He had been here a couple of times before, during his investigation of Lilly Moore’s murder. Kate hadn’t been very friendly then, and he didn’t expect her to be any different now. But he was willing to give it a shot. Partly because he had a hunch Eric Logan had contacted his former wife and partly because he had been looking for an excuse to see her again.
That last thought brought a smile to his lips. Was his physical attraction to Kate Logan that powerful? Or was it more than that? Either way, he ought to know better. Involvement of any kind between a cop and a defense counsel had always been frowned upon. When that defense counsel also happened to be the ex-wife of a prime murder suspect, the ramifications could be disastrous.
Stepping out of the car, Mitch glanced up and down the quiet street. Houses of all sizes and shapes, many of them decorated for the Christmas holiday, twinkled with hundreds of lights. It was a picture-perfect scene, almost impossible to associate with the violence that took place every minute of the day in other parts of the city.
Kate’s house was just as festive, with miniature lights strung through the shrubs and a gigantic wreath hanging on the door.
Whistling lightly to the tune of "Oh, Tannenbaum," Mitch walked up the path to the front door and rang the bell. Kate answered it after the second ring.
In her faded jeans and red sweatshirt, she didn’t look anything like the sophisticated attorney he had seen in the courtroom only yesterday. Her shaggy red hair was in disarray and looked inviting enough for him to want to run his fingers through it. That same light scent he had noticed before enveloped him. One of these days, he’d have to find out the name of that perfume and why it was having such an effect on him.
"Good evening, Mrs. Logan."
"What is it now, Detective? Another riot brewing?"
He thought he saw the hint of a smile cross her face, but couldn’t be sure. "None that I can see. But I’d like to ask you a few questions-if you don’t mind."
"At eight o’clock in the evening?"
He shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d save myself a trip in the morning." Before she could reply, he leaned forward, hands in his pockets. "You mind if I come in?"
For a moment, Kate just looked at him, taking in the friendly, unthreatening blue eyes, the light brown hair with a stubborn strand falling over his forehead, the navy blazer over a cream turtleneck, the 501 jeans. Douglas had labeled him, not without some scorn, one of the new breed of detectives, hip and undisciplined. It was easy to see why Frankie, who had quite an eye for men, had turned to mush the moment she had seen him.
Reluctantly, Kate pulled the door open and moved aside to let him in. She had known that sooner or later he would want to talk to her. She might as well answer his questions now and get it over with. "All right, but please make it
short. I brought work home and I’d like to get back to it."
Mitch followed her across the foyer and into a cheery blue-and-white kitchen. A butcher-block island with a circular rack of gleaming copper pots hanging over it dominated the room. To his left, a cosy nook with a round table, piled high with files, and four chairs overlooked a large backyard.
Mitch tried to imagine Kate in these surroundings, performing a variety of domestic
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