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California to John Helms’s house.”
    â€œTo an empty house.” But why? Certainly not to see relatives. Jesse didn’t bother telling McCoffey she was interviewing him. That would not go over well. He’d find out soon enough.
    â€œStay focused, Jesse. She’s a distraction. Nothing more.”
    Jesse ended the call and headed back into the restaurant.
    At their table, he noticed Casey’s bowl of soup was gone and a cup of coffee took its place. “You’re still not warm?”
    â€œGuess not. But no worries, it’s decaf,” she said, and tugged her pen and pad out again.
    â€œListen, I’m sorry, but something’s come up, so I can’t finish the interview right now.”
    â€œWhat about later this evening?”
    Jesse didn’t answer. What would it take to get her completely out of the picture? McCoffey was right, she was an interruption to this operation, a distraction.
    â€œLook, I really need this story. You see, I don’t have a job if I don’t interview you.”
    Was she serious? He needed to weasel his way into hanging out with Miguel this afternoon. He was doing double duty as it was.
    â€œCan you meet me at the studio at seven? I’ve got plenty of work left to do on that sculpture.”
    â€œBut I need to talk to you, ask you questions. Your noisy tool doesn’t lend itself well to interviews.”
    â€œI promise, by then, I’ll be using the chisel, and we can talk while I work.” He was an idiot.
    Jesse glanced out the window and watched a silver SUV drive by the restaurant. He left Casey sitting in the booth and ran past the tables and booths filled with patrons. An elderly couple shuffled through the front door just as Jesse needed to push through, the bell announcing their arrival. Jesse eased by them but short of knocking them over, he couldn’t exit the door fast enough.
    The vehicle was gone. How many of that make and model could there be in this town? Could the drive-by have been sheer coincidence? Jesse pulled out his cell. He intended to find out.

SEVEN
    T hat afternoon, Casey sat at a makeshift desk in a forgotten cubicle that Danny Garcia had offered and began working on what little she had on the interview. It was very little, but it had been enough to convince Danny that she had an article. She chewed on her pencil and stared at the computer screen, her fingers on the keyboard.
    That is, it was enough if Jesse didn’t wig out on agreeing to meet her tonight. What was with him anyway? One minute he was coming to her rescue and fighting off villains, changing her tire, all while being attentive to her needs and sprinkling that with a little flirting. The next minute he acted like he wished he could scrape her off his shoe. It was enough to drive a reporter looking for a story crazy. Desperation had driven her to seek him out in the first place, and then extreme situations had driven her to experience safety in his arms. The powerful attraction she had to the man didn’t help matters.
    But Jesse’s protective nature seemed only to appear under the direst of circumstances. She’d completed an internet search on one Jesse Dufour and came up with no one by the same name who fit, except for a cursory mention on the Helms Ice website. Jesse was a conundrum. She’d have towork harder to shove aside her incessant need to dig at the truth. She wasn’t a truth finder now, she was a fluff reporter.
    Get in for the story and get out. That’s all you need to do.
    She’d needed this job for the money and something to take her mind from Will Tannin, but maybe it was a mistake to ignore what happened this morning. Casey reached for her phone, planning to call Meg and find out if Tannin was still in Oregon.
    Danny Garcia appeared in the cubicle entry, his wavy black hair nearly covering his left eye, and a pencil shoved over his ear. He tossed some papers on the desk. “Here. Fill these