Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(49)

“Not lately.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. You got some good leads today.”

He didn’t comment. It was hard to be optimistic with the possibility of a new victim out there.

She held his gaze, and the moment stretched out. Sara’s heart started to thud, and she knew what he was thinking even before he leaned down and kissed her.

His mouth was gentle this time. Not tentative but . . . seeking. It was a leisurely exploration, and his hands slid up her back, pulling her close. She let her body melt against him, unwilling to resist, even though they were at her office and anyone could walk in on them. She didn’t care. She just wanted to kiss him and feel his arms around her. She wanted to feel something good for a change. His hair was silky between her fingers, and she loved the firm wall of his chest. But then he eased back, cupping the side of her face as he gazed down at her.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“You looked tense.”

Her heart was hammering now, and she no longer felt tense but flustered. She should feel annoyed, too, but instead she was excited.

Smiling slightly, he eased back. “Looked like you were leaving. Want me to walk you out?”

“Sure.”

Sara hung her lab coat, then grabbed her computer bag. Nerves flitted in her stomach as she followed him out the door and locked up.

They walked down the long corridor toward the elevator. They rode up without talking, and she resisted the urge to pelt him with questions. She wanted to know what he thought of the Delphi Center, her coworkers, her theories.

She wanted to know why he’d kissed her again and why he couldn’t stay longer.

Nolan unclipped his visitor’s badge and left it on the reception desk. The lobby was deserted except for the weekend security guard. They stepped outside into the warm breeze. The sun had dropped behind the trees, but they still had some daylight left. They started walking toward the parking lot, and Sara spotted his pickup in the front row right beside her Explorer.

She glanced at him. “So, what’s next with the investigation? Do you have a plan?”

He smiled. “Of course. The plan is for Mia to get a DNA hit that magically solves the case.”

“I’m serious.”

His smile faded, and he looked down. “I’ve got a lead on a vehicle.”

“Where?”

“Security cam picked it up at the bar where Alicia Merino went missing. It’s a white Chevy Tahoe, about ten years old. No plate, but I’ve got make, model, and approximate year, so that’s a solid lead.”

They reached his pickup, and Sara thought of the last time they’d stood together beside his truck. She noticed his furrowed brow and the tense set of his jaw. The stress was weighing on him, and she wished the circumstances were different.

Maybe when everything died down . . . what? They’d go out for drinks together? Strike up a romance?

They didn’t even live in the same town, and besides, he was married to his job. So was she. The chances of this going anywhere were nonexistent.

But the thought of not seeing him anymore? That seemed wrong. Completely unacceptable.

His frown deepened.

“What?” she asked.

“I wish I had more time here.” He eased closer, and her skin tingled again as he rested his hand on her shoulder. “But I have to get back.”

“I know.”

She wanted him to stay anyway.

“Keep me in the loop, Sara.” He sounded all-business now as his hand dropped away.

“I will.”

? ? ?

Grace thought about food. And water. She thought about tall, juicy hamburgers and fizzy Coke poured over chipped ice. She thought about apples, and peaches, and even pickles, which she hated. Anything to take her mind off the pain and the fear and the endless blackness.

He’d left behind a bottle of water and three small pouches of orange-flavored slime. Some kind of sports gel, she guessed, although sports gel was as foreign to her as monkey brains—which she would have gladly devoured this minute if given the chance.

The sticky little packets were just enough to keep her alive. Just enough to keep her from sliding into nothingness. Why hadn’t he let her die already?

The answer was a sharp kick in her hollow stomach. Because he’s coming back.

She had to think about food again. Anything, anything, anything besides the coming pain.

The last food she’d chewed had been a warm flour tortilla at the Mexican place on Sixth Street—which now felt like another planet in a galaxy far, far away. They’d ordered fajitas for the table, but Grace had passed, worried she wouldn’t be able to zip herself into her dress for Bella’s wedding.

Tears stung her eyes as she thought of her family. Had the wedding come and gone? Time was gray and shapeless, like smoke curling over a campfire, only there was no fire here, and everything was pitch-dark. Grace didn’t know if it was day or night or how many hours she’d spent in this godforsaken tomb.

She tucked her knees to her chest to ward off the chill, but it didn’t work. The floor of the cave was hard and damp, as were the walls. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think warm thoughts to keep her teeth from chattering.

Hot sand. Soft beach towel. Bright sunlight. She imagined a warm breeze and a bottle of water in her hand. She imagined guzzling it down in big, wet gulps that cooled her throat.