Chapter Eight #2
He turned to Brad. He’d heard the same doubts from plenty of cops over the years.
Most thought profiling was some kind of television trick that magically delivered a suspect with a neat little bow tied around it.
“And the answer to your question is yes, it works, but it won’t hand you your suspect on a silver platter like the public seems to think, though I wish it did.
It’s another tool to help narrow the search. ”
The sheriff rose and headed for the door, his chair scraping across the floor. “Sounds good. Lynch, update your file and leave a copy on my desk. Everyone else, I’ll see you in the morning.”
He paused at the doorway and looked back. “Oh, and I’d like all of you with me at tomorrow’s press conference at eleven. The commissioner and mayor want the public to see we’re using every available resource to solve this. You don’t have to be at every one. Maybe every few days until this is over.”
Brad snatched up his file and headed for the exit. “Smile pretty for the cameras, boys.”
A chorus of groans rolled through the room.
Dealing with the press and city officials ranked somewhere between paperwork and root canals on Sean's list of professional headaches. Still, politics came with the badge. Keep the right people happy often enough, and sometimes they come through when you need resources, funding, or a favor pushed through the right channels. It was a game he’d never enjoyed playing, but he understood the rules well enough.
The agents locked up the conference room and headed into the cooling evening air of the station parking lot.
Most of the media vans were gone, but a few reporters and camera operators lingered, getting one last clip for the evening newscasts.
The fading sunlight spilled long shadows across the rows of cars, and for the first time all day, Sean felt the pressure in his chest ease a notch.
The meeting was over, but the case still clung to him, every unanswered question riding along like extra weight he couldn’t shake.
Rafe called out a quick goodbye before climbing into his car and pulling out of the lot. He’d mentioned earlier that his nephew’s high school baseball team was playing its season opener against their biggest rival. If traffic cooperated, he could still catch the last few innings.
Brian’s navy blue Dodge Ram sat two spaces down from Sean’s Mustang. When they reached their vehicles, Sean’s stomach growled, his hunger making itself known now that the adrenaline from the day had worn off. “I’m starving. What do you say to a few beers and takeout from Sassy’s?”
The restaurant brought back memories of simpler days.
Sassy’s sat about a block down from Uncle Dan’s hardware store, on the opposite side of the street, and had been part of life in Whisper for as long as Sean could remember.
Before Bonnie had taken it upon herself to teach Dan how to put something nutritious on the table for three growing boys, the Malone household had spent more nights there than Sean could count.
Back then, Sassy herself had ruled the place from behind the hostess stand, keeping everyone in line with sharp wit and a heart twice its size.
Though she passed away several years ago, her daughter and son-in-law had kept the restaurant running as if she’d never left.
Brian tossed his keys into the air and caught them with one hand. “Sorry, bro. I have a weekly game with some guys from work—a little three-on-three basketball at the ‘Y.’ We usually go out afterward for a few beers, though. Why don’t you come with us?”
The thought of forcing conversation after the kind of day they’d had held no appeal. “No, thanks. I just want to sit and relax tonight, maybe catch a game on TV. You go ahead, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Brian studied him for a moment. “You sure?”
Sean rubbed the back of his neck. Quiet sounded better than anything else tonight. A cold beer, his couch, and a few hours without hearing the word homicide might be enough to clear his head. “Yeah. I’ll just stop, pick up a six-pack, and chill on the couch.”
“All right. See you tomorrow.”
“Later.”
Grace pushed her shopping cart through the aisles of Stop and Go, the squeak of one stubborn wheel breaking through the low hum of conversation and soft music drifting from the overhead speakers.
Just two blocks from her PT office, the neighborhood grocery store wasn’t nearly as large as the chain supermarket near her apartment.
Still, it had everything she needed—well-stocked shelves, a buffet of hot food for nights when cooking felt like too much effort, and a wide variety of fresh coffee beans to choose from.
As she wandered past the produce section, her thoughts drifted where they’d been all day—to Sean.
The memory of the evening before kept replaying in her mind, making it hard to focus on something as simple as grocery shopping. They’d done nothing more exciting than sit on her office floor and share a pizza, yet it had been more fun than she’d had in months.
He’d walked into Pro-Care wearing a sports coat over a T-shirt and jeans, the casual combination somehow making him even more handsome.
The coat had given him a polished edge, but when he’d slipped it off, and she’d caught sight of the fitted tee stretched across his broad chest and shoulders, her pulse had skipped.
The man was unfairly attractive.
She could still picture the way a lock of hair had fallen across his forehead more than once, and each time, she’d fought the urge to reach over and brush it back into place. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to touch him, not to test whether he felt as solid and warm as he looked.
Heat crept into her cheeks at the thought.
With a quiet sigh, she forced herself back to the present.
It had been a long but productive day, and though her stomach was reminding her she’d skipped lunch, the idea of putting together anything elaborate held no appeal. She’d just set a hot rotisserie chicken into her cart when a deep tsk-tsk sounded behind her.
Turning, she found herself staring into amused mocha-brown eyes, and her breath caught.
Sean.
For half a second, her brain refused to process the coincidence. She’d spent the entire day thinking about him, and now there he was, standing a few feet away with that crooked grin that sent a flutter racing through her chest.
“What?” she asked, unable to stop her smile.
“Bonnie would have a fit if she saw you buying any pre-made food.”
She laughed. “Only if it’s frozen and processed. A fresh chicken is acceptable in her book. Besides, I already grabbed the fixings for a salad and a baked potato to go with it.”
Sean rubbed his stomach, his expression turning mournful. “Stop. You’re making me even hungrier. And to tell you the truth, I’m getting one of those chickens for my own dinner, along with a beer or two.”
The opportunity was too perfect to ignore.
“Why should we get two chickens when we can split one?” She tried for a casual tone and hoped he wouldn’t notice the wistful note beneath her words. “I’ll get the food, you grab the beer.”
His grin widened.
“Sounds good to me.” He lifted his brows and lowered his voice, the playful drawl sending warmth curling through her. “So, babe, your place or mine?”
“Ha!” The barked laugh slipped out before she could stop it. “Mine, if that works for you. I’ve got a few things in here that need to be refrigerated.” She gestured toward her half-full cart. “Besides, you haven’t seen my new place yet.”
“All right then.” He turned his cart toward the beverage aisle. “You grab another potato, I’ll get us a six-pack, and we’ll meet at the checkout line.”
He took a few steps, then glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes dancing. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever picked up a woman in a grocery store.”