She was so tired she didn’t even hear Josh enter the room until he spoke.

“How about a cup of coffee?” Josh asked, making Maggie jump because she hadn’t heard him behind her. “There’s a little place a few blocks from here that serves mighty fine coffee and a good breakfast, as well, if you’re hungry.”

“I’m not a bit hungry, but I could definitely use some coffee. We’re not through here, though, are we? Shouldn’t one of us talk to the housekeeper?”

“I’m not sure who’s going to handle interviews yet, but don’t worry, the housekeeper’s not going anywhere. Neither are the other residents of this building. We’ll get around to each and every one of them, but we still need to have that coffee. Let’s go.”

“Let me get my things,” Maggie said.

The Coffeehouse Café was small and trendy. Josh and Maggie found an empty table and sat down. Josh mentioned breakfast again, but Maggie told him she wasn’t ready to eat, which she wasn’t. When hot, delicious-smelling coffee was brought to their table, though, she reached for her cup immediately.

“You’re right,” she said after a satisfying sip. “This is terrific coffee.”

Josh had ordered some bacon and toast, and he ate as well as enjoyed his coffee. He sent Maggie a glance. “Spend enough time with me and you’ll find out that I’m right most of the time.”

“Oh, really? When did that metamorphosis come about? I don’t recall your being Mr. Perfect when you and Tim hung together.” It was a lie. In those days she’d thought of him as nothing but perfect.

“You didn’t? Hmm. That surprises me. How is ol’ Tim doing these days?”

“Ol’ Tim is doing great. You do know he got married, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I knew that.”

“Well, he also has two little boys. Did you know that?”

“No. Two sons, huh? Got any pictures of them?”

“Not with me.”

“So, how’d you end up like me instead of like Tim? He’s still into computers, I suppose.”

Maggie arched her eyebrows. “Yes, he is, and doing extremely well financially. But I don’t see any similarities between you and me, other than both of us being cops.”

“I was a cop when you were still in kindergarten.”

“Hardly. You’re only ten years older than I am. I’m twenty-six. And the two of us being cops doesn’t make us think and act alike.”

“Do I detect disapproval in your voice?”

“Well, you’re certainly not right all the damned time. No one is.”

“Hey, I said most of the time, and I was only kidding anyway. Can’t you take a joke anymore? If I remember right, you used to laugh at jokes.”

“The last time we talked I was sixteen and naive. I’m neither of those now.”

Josh had finished eating. Holding his cup with both hands, his elbows on the table, he gave her a long look. “You’re all grown up, I can’t deny that.”

Was that admiration and lechery in his stunning gray eyes? Maggie wondered. A shiver went up her spine. He was even more handsome now than he’d been when she’d suffered that torturous crush. And he’d treated her like a kid, never once suspecting that he was the star player in all of her teenage fantasies.

Well, wouldn’t he have a laugh if she suddenly blurted that she was no more experienced with men now than she’d been ten years ago? She wasn’t overly proud of being a virgin at her age, but she had never met a guy who had affected her in a sexual way. Of course, she’d had her nose stuck in a book almost constantly in college, and since graduation she had worked darned hard to get where she was in the Chicago Police Department.

But Josh affected her. He had when she was a teenager and he possessed the same powerful magnetism today. She felt all sorts of things just from looking at him, from having him look at her, and the last thing she wanted was a quickie affair with the only man she might have grown up to love, given half a chance.

“Maybe we should talk about the case,” she said.

Josh’s lips turned up in a knowing little half grin. She was pretty and she was also sharp enough to know how to keep a hot-blooded predator at arm’s length. Besides, she was Tim’s sister, and Maggie might not know it, but that meant something to Josh. He might kid around with Maggie Sutter, but that was as far as it would ever go for him.

“There’s very little to talk about at this point,” he said. “You know the drill…the autopsy and medical examiner’s report on cause of death…the endless interviews…the lab reports…and on and on.”

“Okay, fine. You’re giving the orders, so I’d like to hear mine.”

“You’ve got bags of possible evidence to examine and test. Spend the day at the crime lab. As for me, I intend to talk to the M.E. The question hounding me is what came first, the stab wounds or the blow to his head. I think that’s going to be a key issue in this case.”

Maggie was impressed with Josh’s logic, which sort of saddened her because he seemed to see things more clearly than she did. His years of experience undoubtedly accounted for such acuity, but she couldn’t help envying it.

“All right,” she agreed. “Drop me off at the Gardner building so I can pick up my car. Would you like me to contact you any time today?”

“If you find anything I should know about, yes.” Josh reached into his inside coat pocket and brought out a business card. “All my phone numbers are on that.”

Maggie handed him her card. “In case you need to talk to me,” she said.

“Good. We’re in sync.”

Much more than you could ever imagine. Maggie hated thinking those words and surely her expression or voice gave no clues to her thoughts, but Josh’s good looks, his intelligence and macho maleness were again burrowing under her skin and setting up residence in the vicinity of her heart. She would have to be careful around him or he would catch on, and if he ever realized that he had the upper hand where her emotions were concerned, there was no predicting what might happen.

Or maybe there was. Maggie’s stomach sank clear to her toes, but she rose and left the café with Josh as though he meant no more to her than any other cop she had worked with.

It was scary that he did…already…after only one time together.

O ne of the jobs of a criminalist was to reconstruct the crime under investigation. Sketches of the murder scene, photographs and physical evidence all came into play. Maggie thought about the process while analyzing and testing the samples of everything from carpet fibers to fingernail scrapings that she had taken from Franklin Gardner’s study. As always, she was careful to keep very close tabs on even the smallest item, as it just might prove invaluable in bringing a killer to justice.

Around two that afternoon the growling of Maggie’s stomach was a strong reminder that she hadn’t eaten since last night. But because she wanted to finish her tests so she could log the evidence before leaving the premises, she settled for an energy bar from a vending machine. It helped, and by seven that evening she had completed everything that could be completed in one day, and then carried it all to the evidence room.

“Each bag is tagged,” she told the person in charge, even though nothing that wasn’t tagged could be logged in. “I’ll be picking up several of the bags during the next few days for further testing.” Maggie was mostly referring to Franklin Gardner’s collection of ice picks. They were suspiciously lacking in fingerprints-possibly wiped clean by Franklin ’s attacker-and two had trace amounts of blood. She needed more time on them.

She was walking out to her car when it dawned on her that Josh Benton hadn’t called. Feeling slighted personally was one thing, but professionally? No way, she thought. Her work today had accomplished a great deal, and she fully intended on staying right in the middle of this investigation. Instead of going home, she drove to the Detective Bureau, parked her car and walked in. Sometimes the place was pure bedlam. This evening, it was merely busy.