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the statements were taken in his office would make his texts hotter than ever.
    “I could help,” Stan offered before we crossed the street. I’ll give him credit: Nevin thanked him for the offer. Then he kept on walking.
    I followed him, but not before I took one last look into the front display window of the shop I had once dreamed of as my home away from home. I watched what the cops and technicians were up to and tried hard not to look at Kate’s body. I guess it didn’t work, because before I knew it, I was rooted to the spot, staring at the two crime-scene technicians who were slipping bags over Kate’s hands. Nevin gripped my elbow, urging me to get a move on.
    “Sorry,” I croaked.
    “No need.” We walked across the street between a phalanx of police cars with their lights flashing and crowds of people who were gathered around, and he opened Dr. Levine’s door and stepped aside to allow me into the office first. All the lights were still on, and so was the computer that had been so tempting, it made Brina abandon her duties. It was open to the web page of a local tattoo artist.
    Nevin turned off the screen. “Have a seat.”
    I chose the one on the customer side of the table where glasses were fitted. Nevin took the one opposite me, the optometrist’s side. “You had a burglary at your place earlier this week.”
    So much for chitchat, but then, what did I expect? I’d already proven myself incapable. I shifted uncomfortably in the metal chair. “You don’t think—”
    “I don’t think anything, because I don’t know anything yet. About that burglary . . .”
    I told him everything I remembered and watched him scratch notes as I spoke, which was fine with me, because it gave me a chance to look him over. I’d never describe Nevin as drop-dead handsome. His blue eyes were a little too far apart. His nose was a tad too pointy. His mouth was far from generous. Still, I remembered walking into the pizzeria where we’d first met and thinking he was nice looking. Maybe that’s what had doomed our date from the start. He was cute, and I—for the first time since I gave Kaz the heave-ho—was interested. I tried too hard—to be funny, to be clever, to be interesting.
    Interesting and buttons.
    Two words that don’t go together in most people’s vocabulary.
    Then again, Nevin wasn’t all that flashy himself. He didn’t have Kaz’s swagger, Kaz’s dazzling smile, or that sexy aura that pulsed around Kaz like a neon come-and-get-it sign.
    No doubt, that’s why I was attracted to Nevin in the first place.
    And now?
    He was efficient, organized, and completely impersonal, and just in case he could read my mind and knew I still thought he was cute, I clasped my hands together in my lap and forced myself to concentrate on the investigation, not the investigator.
    “You didn’t recognize the two men you found in your store the other morning?”
    I snapped back to reality to find him watching me carefully. In a very coplike, business-y way.
    “They were wearing ski masks,” I said, even though I was sure that detail had been included in the report he’d obviously read. “One of them had a scar on his neck and one of them—I don’t remember which—had a funny, phony accent. You know, Arnold Schwarzenegger meets Dr. Frankenstein.”
    “So you’re saying you didn’t know them?”
    A polite way of reminding me he didn’t appreciate my editorial comments. I told myself not to forget it and stuck to the cold, hard facts. “No. Neither one. They were burly and tall.” This wasn’t exactly editorializing because it was true, and because I justified the comment with, “I’d remember guys that beefy.”
    He nodded and made a note. “And you haven’t seen them since?”
    “No.”
    “And even though your store had just been burglarized, you went out and left the door open.”
    When he put it like that, it did sound dumb. I looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice that my cheeks were suddenly