“Hello,” she said before the fourth ring.

“Liv? It’s Greg.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Sorry. I overslept.”

“You probably haven’t slept much at all,” he said, his voice tinged with worry. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. We’re making headway.”

“I wanted you to know I finished the DNA testing on the sample Seattle sent me and it’s a 1-in-100,000 match to the sample from Missy.”

Her body tensed and she stifled a sob. Her instincts told her she was right that Missy’s killer was in Seattle, her experience told her she was right, but hearing the definitive proof… “Thank you, Greg.” Thank you seemed wholly inadequate. Greg was risking a reprimand or worse for not only helping her deceive the Seattle Police Department into giving her full access to the case, but using government resources without authorization.

“I received the pubic hair samples this morning. I’ll jump on those today and should have an answer in the morning.” He paused. “Rick asked about you this morning.”

“Oh?”

“I told him you were fine.”

“I’m sorry I put you in the position of lying to your boss.”

“I put myself in this position, Olivia. You’d never rest if you didn’t do everything you could to help. But I’m still worried about you. What are you going to do if you catch this guy?”

She’d been thinking the same thing for days. What would she do? Confront him? Slap him? Tell him to go to hell? Nothing seemed adequate. Nothing she could do would right the wrongs he’d committed. Nothing she could say would take away the pain and knowledge that for thirty-four years, a violent predator walked the streets.

“I don’t know, Greg,” she said.

“When this is all over, Liv, you know I’ll still be here for you.”

“I know.” Her voice was a mere whisper. Yes, she knew. Greg still loved her. She’d been an awful wife-she couldn’t give him the affection he deserved. She’d been distant and uncomfortable sharing her fears, preferring solitude to companionship. But still he stood by her, and she’d never forget it.

“I’ll let you know about the pubic hair when I’m done, but I’ll also contact the Seattle lab director, Doug Cohn, and send him a written report. They’ll need it for court down the road.”

“Thank you, Greg.”

She said goodbye and shut her phone, sitting on the edge of the hotel mattress, the room suddenly too sterile. How had she ended up here, three thousand miles from her job, her friends, her house?

Friends? What friends? Her closest friend was actually here in Seattle and she hadn’t even told Miranda she was nearby. And Rowan, her other roommate from the FBI Academy, was taking it easy in Colorado, at peace for the first time in her life. Her ex-husband Greg was her only other close friend, and she felt like she was using him.

Her house in Virginia wasn’t a home. Though more tastefully decorated than the hotel room in which she now sat, it was hardly more intimate. She spent all her time working; she didn’t need anything special to come home to.

Suddenly, she felt old. She’d be forty in a few months and here she was lying and manipulating people for the first time in her life. She didn’t believe in superstition or omens or any of that nonsense, but she couldn’t help but think her treachery and deceit was adding to the evil in the world.

Slowly, she made her way to the bathroom and turned the shower on full hot. The water pressure was pathetic, but at least the temperature was right. She stripped and stood under the stinging spray and willed the shower to give her the energy she needed to maintain her façade today.

As soon as she turned off the water, she heard pounding on the door. She jumped out of the tub and grabbed a towel, but it didn’t cover anything. She hadn’t ordered room service. Dripping water, she rushed to the bed and slid into the thin white cotton robe she’d brought from home. This wasn’t a five-star hotel with complimentary terry robes and body wraps.

The pounding continued, and she heard a muffled voice call her name, but the door was too thick to distinguish it. She glanced through the keyhole.

Zack Travis.

She fumbled with the locks and opened the door. “What-”

He immediately stepped in, and she took a step back. “Jesus Christ, I thought something had happened to you. You must sleep like the dead, I was knocking for ten-” He looked her over, slowly. “Oh.” He didn’t avert his eyes. They darkened, turning nearly black, as he took in her wet hair and damp robe, his gaze dropping to her chest, then back to her face.

Her body reacted to his appreciative stare. Her breasts tingled, her nipples hardened, her throat suddenly tightened. She swallowed and took another step back to let him walk in, then closed the door, grateful he was no longer looking at her, though her body still betrayed her desire.

“I didn’t realize I needed to call you for permission to shower.” She tried to sound professional and tough, as if she hadn’t noticed the way Zack had visually inspected her body. Instead, her voice came out low and throaty.

He turned to look at her again, stared at her, unmoving. She felt trapped against the door, unable to move into the room without touching him. The thought sent a shiver through her, which she couldn’t dismiss as being chilled after her shower. The sensation remained, and she was more than aware that her thin cotton robe had molded too close to her wet body.

So was Zack.

He stepped toward her and she made the mistake of looking at his lips. They parted and he licked them.

Anticipation made her heart race. His hand came up and wrapped around the back of her neck. An involuntary shiver ran through her body.

She wanted to tell him to back off. She couldn’t get the words out. Instead, her eyelids drooped and her lips parted, aching to taste his.

When his mouth touched hers she’d expected the warmth; she hadn’t expected a lightning bolt to shoot through her, singeing her toes.

The kiss was brief but powerful. He stepped back and she opened her eyes. By the look on his face, he’d felt the same electricity sparking between them.

She didn’t want to give him any time to think about the mistake they’d just made.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled. She brushed past him, grabbing clothes from the closet, and stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly and leaning against it. What was it about Zack Travis that got her all in a dither? She wasn’t a young female who lusted after hot cops. She was a mature, responsible professional. She had far more important things to do than go all goo-goo-eyed over a man.

She’d let him kiss her. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her again.

But that was out of the question.

The shrill ring of a cell phone jolted her. But the ringer was Zack’s, not hers. She quickly slid into her skirt and silk camisole. She heard Zack bark his name into the phone.

Then silence. Who had called him? Did it have to do with the case? Had someone called the FBI to check on her credentials? Had Zack already talked to the bureau chief in Seattle and told him about her? She hadn’t had time to prepare. What would she tell him?

Zack might understand, but she’d be cut out of the investigation, sent back to Virginia. She’d never face her sister’s murderer and see justice finally done.

The information she’d gathered over the past few weeks while in Virginia had given them new leads. They had far more today than yesterday, and far more yesterday than when Jennifer Benedict was killed.

She had helped, even if she had broken the rules to do it. And whose damn rules were they anyway?

She didn’t want to deceive Zack, but she was in this until the end-whether it was today, tomorrow, or next week.

Taking a deep breath she slid into her blazer, dabbed concealer on the dark shadows under her eyes, put on a professional face, and ran a quick brush through her damp hair. She didn’t have time to bother with her appearance.