Ooookay. He sounded almost indifferent—not what she’d expected, especially from a detective. She pulled out a chair, and Cash came to lay by her feet.
“Do you have permits for the guns?”
That stalled her but only for a moment. Surely she did. “Yes.”
“That wasn’t a very confident reply.”
She repeated, more firmly, “Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“Stay, Cash. I’ll be right back.” She went into her office, checked that Reese hadn’t followed her and got out her special paperwork hidden within the register vent on the floor, held in place by heavy magnets. Inside, she found several permits. She located what she needed, put the rest back and returned to Reese. “Here you go.”
“If I check those, will they be legit?”
“I’m confident they will be.”
He shook his head at her. “The things you say and the way you say it—”
“Yes,” she amended. “They will be.” Not even for a second should she have doubted it. Everything she had, every resource, and yes, every weapon, would bear up under close scrutiny.
The bacon smelled delicious as Reese put it on a plate and got started on the eggs. “How many do you want?”
“One, please.” Watching him work, she appreciated the view: Reese shirtless, his shoulders flexing as he cracked eggs, his big bare feet planted apart on her linoleum floor. She could so easily get used to the sight of him in her kitchen. “Most women would want to cook for you.”
“Maybe.” He lifted his coffee cup for another drink, then glanced back at her. “I appreciate it that you aren’t being so clichéd.”
No, she couldn’t be. She was so unlike most women, any comparison would be hard to find.
He continued to watch her. “Does anyone else know about your cache of weapons?”
No one that he’d ever meet. She didn’t like lying to him, but really, she had no choice. “No.”
“You took far too long to answer.”
“I’m sorry.”
Reluctantly, he turned to flip the eggs. “So, why did you tell me?”
Alice shook her head. “I’ve been sitting here wondering the same thing myself. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat it to anyone else.”
“Who would I tell?”
“Your friend Detective Riske. Or Lieutenant Peterson. I’d as soon not have to answer difficult questions.”
“All right.” He set the plates on the table. “Unless it becomes necessary to tell someone else, I’ll keep your secret.” The toast popped up. Reese put a pat of butter on each piece.
“It’s not a secret as much as it’s my private, personal business.”
He handed her a napkin, touched her cheek and took his seat.
Though he ate without pressuring her, Alice knew he still waited for an answer.
“It’s strange,” she said after a bite of bacon. “But I think I trust you.”
“That’s a start.”
“I’m a good judge of character,” she said with a shrug. “You’re trustworthy.”
“You think that because I’m a cop?”
She laughed, realized how awful that sounded and covered her mouth with a hand. “No.” She shook her head. “No, being in law enforcement has nothing to do with it.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.” Without seeming indelicate, he ate so heartily that his food quickly disappeared.
His statement made her curious. “Why do you say that?”
“All that stuff that happened—the shooting in my apartment, I mean. There are a handful of cops on the force right now that aren’t honest, good cops. The lieutenant is doing her best to clear out the corruption, but it’s not easy. One bad cop is catastrophic. You get several working together, and the entire department is compromised.”
“Your friend Logan?”
“As trustworthy as they come.”
“I thought so.” Yesterday, while she’d fretted, waiting to see if Reese would be okay, Logan Riske had pulled up with his brother and Pepper Yates. Alice had studied him for a short time, long enough to recognize in him the same attitude that Reese had.
In a leap of faith, she’d explained to Detective Riske about the intruders with Reese in his apartment.
“More of your intuition, huh?” He drank half his orange juice. “I gotta say, Alice, I’d love to know how you do it. How do you sift the good from the bad with little more than a glance?”
It grew so quiet after that, they could hear Cash snoring under the table. Alice finished off a slice of bacon, wondered where to start and decided it didn’t really matter when it all ended the same way.
“I was taken.”
Everything about Reese sharpened; his attention, his posture. His warm concern. And something more, something like rage.
Because he’s a good man, as well as a good cop, and he cares about others.
He set aside his utensils. “You were kidnapped?”
Oh, God, she hated hearing it said aloud. “And held captive.”
“When?” He leaned toward her. “For how long?”
Unwilling—even unable—to elaborate, she shook her head. “The only important detail is that I got away. And now that I’m free, I don’t take chances. That’s all I can say.”
“I need more.”