shook her head. “No, I mean Adam Matuszak. My tall, blond, ambitious ex.” She made no effort to mask her sarcasm. Pike liked Annie. She might be a bit of a flake in the personality department, but far and away, she was the smartest, sharpest thinker on their team. She’d been the first to get them a lead on their unsub by identifying his blood type and confirming they were looking for both a rapist and an accomplice who cleaned up after his crimes. “I dodged a bullet when Adam dumped me. She’s the bridal shop owner, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. Hope Lockhart.”
“Does she need an attorney?” Annie asked. “I thought Nick said she was a witness.”
“Potential witness,” Pike clarified, liking Hope’s friends less and less. “Do you know Brian Elliott, too?” The one who kept touching Hope’s arm and shoulder, despite the way she subtly shifted posture or pulled away each time.
“He owns most of those buildings in our target neighborhood. He remodels and sells them. If I remember rightly, he invested money to help Miss Lockhart set up her bridal shop. Adam is his personal attorney—Nick and I met them at a crime scene in one of the buildings Elliott was converting. We thought it might be the location where our unsub was taking his victims to sexually assault them.” Annie’s voice trailed away and Pike looked down to see where her thoughts had taken her.
“It turned out to be a staged crime scene, right?”
Annie nodded. “It was a trap. If Nick hadn’t been there, I could have died.”
His attention shifted back to Detective Montgomery’s desk, and Pike saw Nick Fensom grab his leather jacket off the back of his chair and excuse himself from the conversation. Hope turned to see where he was going and her gaze locked on to Pike’s across the room—for about two seconds before Elliott touched her shoulder and forced her attention back to whatever their attorney was saying to Spencer Montgomery. Hope nodded and answered a question. And then she was pointing to a picture in a book of vehicle makes and models on Montgomery’s desk
But in those two seconds, Pike had read a plea in those lake-gray eyes. The fatigue of working through the night melted away and he stood a little straighter, leaned a little closer, felt a little more protective. She was part of the neighborhood he guarded; that made Hope his responsibility. And though she’d made it clear she hadn’t wanted his help at her apartment, and she wasn’t too comfortable having him touch her, her eyes had sent him a different message just now. Help.
Just like with Hans, it had been bred into every fiber of his being to answer that call. But help her with what? How? What did she need him to do? Or was he just imagining her distress? He hadn’t read any other nonverbal cues she’d been giving off correctly. Shy—not snooty. Afraid of Hans—not him.
This is too much, please come bail me out— or what the heck are you still doing there staring at me when whatever interest you have in me isn’t as mutual as you’d like it to be?
There was a reason Pike worked with dogs. Communication with them was so much less complicated. Eat. Sleep. Pet. Play. Work.
While Pike debated the mystery of Hope Lockhart and how he should respond, Nick circled around the counter. He shrugged into his jacket before brushing a curl off Annie’s forehead. “Everything okay? Matuszak isn’t giving you fits, is he?”
With their opposite personalities, Nick and Annie were the last two people Pike would ever have imagined as a couple. But together, they worked. Annie shook her head and smiled. “I don’t even notice him when you’re here.”
Nick grinned. “Good.” He shifted his gaze up to Pike. “Seems like Matuszak ought to be answering some questions instead of keeping her from talking. All we want are details about what she saw last night, and her observations of activities in that neighborhood. But as her business mentor, Elliott claims he knows
“Yeah. Hope Lockhart.”
“Does she need an attorney?” Annie asked. “I thought Nick said she was a witness.”
“Potential witness,” Pike clarified, liking Hope’s friends less and less. “Do you know Brian Elliott, too?” The one who kept touching Hope’s arm and shoulder, despite the way she subtly shifted posture or pulled away each time.
“He owns most of those buildings in our target neighborhood. He remodels and sells them. If I remember rightly, he invested money to help Miss Lockhart set up her bridal shop. Adam is his personal attorney—Nick and I met them at a crime scene in one of the buildings Elliott was converting. We thought it might be the location where our unsub was taking his victims to sexually assault them.” Annie’s voice trailed away and Pike looked down to see where her thoughts had taken her.
“It turned out to be a staged crime scene, right?”
Annie nodded. “It was a trap. If Nick hadn’t been there, I could have died.”
His attention shifted back to Detective Montgomery’s desk, and Pike saw Nick Fensom grab his leather jacket off the back of his chair and excuse himself from the conversation. Hope turned to see where he was going and her gaze locked on to Pike’s across the room—for about two seconds before Elliott touched her shoulder and forced her attention back to whatever their attorney was saying to Spencer Montgomery. Hope nodded and answered a question. And then she was pointing to a picture in a book of vehicle makes and models on Montgomery’s desk
But in those two seconds, Pike had read a plea in those lake-gray eyes. The fatigue of working through the night melted away and he stood a little straighter, leaned a little closer, felt a little more protective. She was part of the neighborhood he guarded; that made Hope his responsibility. And though she’d made it clear she hadn’t wanted his help at her apartment, and she wasn’t too comfortable having him touch her, her eyes had sent him a different message just now. Help.
Just like with Hans, it had been bred into every fiber of his being to answer that call. But help her with what? How? What did she need him to do? Or was he just imagining her distress? He hadn’t read any other nonverbal cues she’d been giving off correctly. Shy—not snooty. Afraid of Hans—not him.
This is too much, please come bail me out— or what the heck are you still doing there staring at me when whatever interest you have in me isn’t as mutual as you’d like it to be?
There was a reason Pike worked with dogs. Communication with them was so much less complicated. Eat. Sleep. Pet. Play. Work.
While Pike debated the mystery of Hope Lockhart and how he should respond, Nick circled around the counter. He shrugged into his jacket before brushing a curl off Annie’s forehead. “Everything okay? Matuszak isn’t giving you fits, is he?”
With their opposite personalities, Nick and Annie were the last two people Pike would ever have imagined as a couple. But together, they worked. Annie shook her head and smiled. “I don’t even notice him when you’re here.”
Nick grinned. “Good.” He shifted his gaze up to Pike. “Seems like Matuszak ought to be answering some questions instead of keeping her from talking. All we want are details about what she saw last night, and her observations of activities in that neighborhood. But as her business mentor, Elliott claims he knows
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