Dakota Meltdown. Elle James
she lunged for a towel and slung it around her body without turning her back to him. Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and if Nick didn’t know better, he’d say she was embarrassed and perhaps a bit shy about being in a swimsuit in front of him. Funny how her embarrassment gave him a little twinge of something like endearment. Was he crazy?
Nick glanced down at his wet jeans and shirt. Now that her body wasn’t pressed against him, the cooler air made the wet spots uncomfortable. “The weather’s clearing and I wanted to get out and interview neighbors and coworkers of the missing women. You interested?”
“Yes, I am.” She tucked the end of the towel in over her breasts before she met his gaze. “I needed the exercise to clear my head. I would have been back in less than fifteen minutes.”
“Just do us both a favor, and let me know exactly where you’re going. I don’t want another victim on my watch.” His gut clenched at the thought of Brenna’s swimsuit-clad body lying somewhere in a snowbank. He was only concerned because she was his key to the killer. Nick nodded his head toward the hallway. “Get changed. I’ll wait outside your door.”
Without a word, she blew through the glass doors and down the hallway to her room.
Nick followed her every step of the way, admiring the sway of her hips beneath the towel and the way her bare feet in the flip-flops made her look young and vulnerable. He should have waited in the lobby.
After sliding the plastic key card in the lock, Brenna stood with her hand on the doorknob. “If you’re going to wait for me, you might as well have a seat in my room.”
He nodded and followed her into the dark room, scanning the interior for any clues to this woman. Her suitcase stood open on one of the two queen-size beds, the contents a jumble of clothes and toiletries.
“Pack in a hurry?” he asked, settling into a chair in the corner of the room, thinking he really should march himself back down the hall to the lobby. But he wanted to know more about this woman who could knock him on his butt and still look like a lost little girl.
“When the assignment came through last night, I only took time to throw in the necessities.” She grabbed clothes and underwear and headed for the bathroom. “Give me two minutes.”
Nick stood, strolled across the commercial carpeting to the window on the far side and pushed the curtain aside. The skies had cleared and the sun shone brightly on the fresh layer of snow. It made him want to go out and stand in it. Nick didn’t like staying inside any more than he had to, but the weather in North Dakota forced people inside for long periods. He didn’t know how they did it. Now living in Norfolk, Virginia, and having spent most of his life on the southeast coast where winter may have included a few days of snow that melted within hours, he couldn’t comprehend living inside for six months out of the year.
The sound of the shower captured Nick’s attention, drawing his mind away from the case to the newest member of his team. The thought of water gliding over her pale, smooth skin had his blood burning a path south. He could still feel the warmth of her beneath his fingertips, the smooth wetness of her swimsuit pressed against his clothing. And that kiss. A mistake and definitely a distraction he could live without.
If he hadn’t already been burned by a woman, he might consider kissing her again. He sensed passion beneath her feisty exterior. He’d caught a glimpse of it under her enthusiasm for her job and her concern for her hometown. His body would like nothing more than to explore and discover just how passionate she was, on a purely physical level.
Nick turned back to the window. Brenna Jensen was part of his job, not his life. The last time he’d made a woman part of his life, he’d made her his wife. And what had that brought him? He’d lost his home, his marriage, his partner and best friend, but mostly his faith in women. Brenna Jensen was definitely hands-off. He had a case to solve and he had to contain any wayward attraction he might feel for the gutsy blonde.
Just as the door to the bathroom opened, his cell phone buzzed and vibrated in the belt clip on his hip. He flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear.
Brenna stepped from the steamy interior of the bathroom dressed in a pair of black wool trousers and a formfitting turtleneck sweater that hugged the swells of her breasts to perfection. Despite her questioning look, Nick had to turn away to concentrate on who was calling.
“Nick, this is Paul. We have a body.”
Chapter Four
After the investigative team had collected every bit of evidence they could, the ice-fishing shanty had been pushed aside, allowing the recovery team to retrieve the body. Brenna stood beside Nick Tarver, staring down into the drilled-out ice. The wind whipped her hair across her eyes, blocking out the horror of what she saw.
Dr. Janine Drummond’s white, naked body bobbed in and out of view of the hole drilled through two feet of solid ice into Eagle Lake.
Brenna turned away, bile rising in her throat. She couldn’t lose her stomach. Not in front of these people. A professional kept her cool.
This was a woman she’d known and respected for years. In past cases she’d investigated, the victims had been people she’d never met.
Dave Jorgensen and Mike Koenig stood in their insulated coveralls and Elmer Fudd hats, their faces pale and pinched, giving their statement to Sheriff Tindale.
While Mike stared at the ice, Dave did all the talking. “Once the storm cleared, we thought we’d get out here before the ice started melting. This was one of the holes we’d drilled last weekend. As soon as we saw what was down there, we got in the truck and headed to town to call. It ’bout gave us a heart attack, it scared us so bad. But we didn’t kill that lady and put her down there. No, sir, we didn’t.”
“It’s okay, Dave,” Sheriff Tindale said.
A detective snapped pictures of the hole and the dead woman, the camera clicks muffled by the westerly breeze blowing across the frozen lake.
All Brenna could see were the pale arms and torso of Dr. Drummond snagged by Dave’s fishing line. A quiver shook Brenna’s body so hard her teeth rattled.
Agent Tarver leaned close. “You okay?”
Without glancing up, Brenna nodded. She wanted to ignore the man. Instead, she studied him in her peripheral vision.
His dark hair fell across the deep frown lines on his forehead and his ears were turning pink from the cold. The black jacket and black hair were a stark contrast to the white landscape, making him seem larger than life.
She didn’t want to notice him, didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. But he stood beside her, the faint scent of his aftershave wafting her way as the wind shifted. Again she shivered, although not from the cold.
Tarver nudged her elbow with his gloved hand. “Want to get out of here?”
His touch jump-started her numb brain and she realized she wasn’t doing anything to solve this case by staring at a dead woman. “No.”
“Since you’re from around here, why don’t you ask the questions? They’ll trust you more.”
She nodded and made her way over to Dave. “Mr. Jorgensen, do you leave your hut out here all winter?”
“Yes, ma’am. Been out here since last November. Even left the auger all locked up inside. Didn’t think anyone would break in and use it.”
“See any tire tracks or footprints nearby?” she asked.
“No, but then it snowed pretty heavy.”
“Thanks, Dave.” Brenna moved on to one of the sheriff’s deputies tasked with gathering the evidence. “Make sure you brush away loose snow. If someone drove out here, there should be packed snow tracks crushed into the ice beneath the fresh snow.”
He glanced up at the bright sunshine beating down on them. “If we’re gonna do it, it’ll have to be soon. That sun will