She took her key card from her purse and swiped it through the card reader. The door clicked open, and she stepped inside.
“I’m on two,” she said, leading him across a small foyer and up a narrow flight of stairs. At the top was another locked door, this one with the WorkWell logo etched across frosted glass.
“It’s a communal office.” She glanced over her shoulder and caught him looking at her ass. “You ever seen one?”
“No.”
She unlocked the door and stepped into the common area, where tall windows facing the street let in a flood of light. It was a large, open space surrounded by small private offices. Clusters of tables—not cubicles—occupied the center to “foster dialogue,” according to the WorkWell brochure. Beanbags filled the room’s corners. At the far end of the space, three young men in jeans and T-shirts were crowded around a computer screen. One glanced up and did a double-take.
“Hey, Kira.”
“Hey.”
All of them were staring at her now, probably because they’d never seen her in a dress before. Or maybe it was Jeremy who had their attention. With his dark suit and holster, he looked like a secret service agent.
Kira glanced back at him. “I need coffee. You?”
“I’m good.”
She led him into the break room, passing the purple hammock dangling from the ceiling. He lifted an eyebrow at it but didn’t comment. She fired up the Keurig and started a cup of Donut Shop Blend, then took a water from the fridge and handed it to him. He liked to stay hydrated, she’d noticed.
Jeremy twisted off the top, watching her as he took a long pull.
Kira tried not to shift under his gaze as the coffee maker hissed and gurgled. She poured sugar into her coffee and led him to her office.
“Well, this is it,” she said, unlocking the door. “It’s small, but it’s plenty of room for me.”
She flipped the light on and was dismayed to see the mess she’d left when she last visited. Her desk was covered with files and soda cans. A pile of mail occupied her chair as a reminder to catch up on her bills. After her wire transfer from Logan, she’d managed to pay her rent, but she was still late on everything else.
Jeremy stepped in behind her. The room seemed to shrink with him in it, and she once again marveled at his size. He eased around her without a word and peered through the vertical blinds. Kira had a view of the street—something she’d been proud of when she first signed the lease here. In retrospect, she should have saved the fifty bucks a month and gone with an alley view.
He looked at her. “Why do you keep an office here?”
His tone wasn’t judgmental but curious. She found a free space on her desk and set her coffee down.
“Security reasons.”
His brow furrowed.
“I needed a business address different from my home. Early on, I was doing a lot of cheating spouses, and I didn’t want people finding me. This gives me a PO box and a secure server for sensitive files. Plus a conference room for clients who don’t want to meet in public.” She shrugged. “The security thing doesn’t come up that much now that I’m working mostly for lawyers and insurance companies. But I’m used to it.”
Cheers erupted in the common room, probably over some video-game milestone.
“And the other tenants?” He nodded toward the door.
“Two of those guys are app designers, and the other’s some kind of consultant, I think. I don’t actually know what everyone here does, and I kind of like it that way. We stay out of each other’s way.”
Jeremy watched her silently. It felt strange to see him in her tight little office. It seemed intimate somehow, as though she were letting him into another room of her life. The more time they spent together, the more she let her guard down. And she had to remind herself that to him, this was an assignment. Regardless of what had happened in his truck last night, he was getting paid to be with her, and this was his job.
Sun streamed through the blinds, catching the dust motes between them, and Kira held his gaze, wishing she could read his thoughts. Something flickered in his eyes, and her pulse sped up. Was he thinking about last night? She’d been drawn to him all day, and she wanted to kiss him again, right here in her messy office. She wanted to tug his tie loose and unbutton that starched shirt.
He turned to the window. “They just pulled up.”
Of course. Perfect timing.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “We’ll meet in the conference room.”
Kira went down to open the door for Spears and Diaz. The detectives still wore their funeral attire, and Diaz carried a to-go cup from Dairy Queen.
“Glad you could make it,” Kira said as they followed her up the stairs.
“No problem at all,” Diaz replied.
Kira didn’t know whether Spears shared his view that it was no problem to come here. She probably would have preferred to talk at the police station, which was exactly why Kira wanted them here.
Kira led them into the conference room, and Spears stopped short as she caught sight of the beanbag corner.
“Interesting work space.” Spears glanced around the conference room, where giant whiteboards covered three of the four walls. She took a leather swivel chair at the head of the table as Kira ducked into her office to grab her coffee and the notebook from her purse.
Jeremy claimed a chair beside Kira, and she was glad he’d opted to sit in. She wanted his take on the investigation.
“Anything new since last night?” Kira asked Spears.
“We’re working on it.” She looked from Kira to Jeremy. “I need to ask if either of you has seen a black BMW around recently.”
“No,” Kira said.
“What about in Brock Logan’s neighborhood on the night of the murder?”
“I don’t remember one. Why?”
“A witness spotted someone in a gray hoodie getting into a black BMW a few minutes after the shooting.”
“Where?” Jeremy asked.
“It was parked on Lark Street, right behind Logan’s house.”
“So you have another witness?” Kira leaned closer. “Did they give a description?”
“Not much of one. He saw this person from behind, and he mainly noticed the car.”
“I haven’t seen a black BMW around.” She thought of her last conversation with Shelly and wished she’d asked about the car Shelly had noticed at the stoplight. “But why hasn’t that detail been released? And what about the suspect sketch?”
Spears darted a look at Diaz, and Kira sensed she’d hit on a sensitive topic.
“The department wants to hold off releasing the sketch,” she said.
“How come?”
“With the hood and the sunglasses, it’s pretty . . . inconclusive, I think is the term they used.”
“It’s so generic, they’re worried we’ll be flooded with tips,” Diaz added. “Which means we’d have to devote a lot of time and resources to running them down, when we could be following up on concrete leads.”
“Until we have something more specific, they want to use the sketch internally,” Spears said.
Kira glanced at Jeremy, who was watching her closely, probably wondering why she’d called this meeting. Kira flipped open her notebook and unclipped a business card. On the back, she’d written two license-plate numbers and vehicle descriptions. She slid the card across the table to Spears.