Copy Cap Murder by Jenn McKinlay Page A

again.
    Our gazes met. I felt my heart sink into my shoes. Would this be the police calling him in for questioning? I didn’t care what he said; I was going with him.
    He looked at the display and then at me. His eyebrows rose and he said, “Tyler.”
    â€œTake it!” I cried. If anyone knew what the heck was going on, it would be Tyler. I leaned across the counter to listen when he answered.
    â€œHello, Tyler,” he said. There was a pause and he added, “Yes, it was a bit of a shock.”
    It was obvious he was talking about his suspension and understating its napalm-like quality in his usual Britishfashion. As if my unwavering stare was beginning to burn him with its intensity, he turned slightly away.
    â€œAll right then,” he said. “I’m glad it’s been sorted. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. He looked thoughtful, and as much as I didn’t want to interrupt any great insights he was having, I needed to know what was going on.
    â€œWell?” I demanded.
    â€œTyler lifted my suspension,” he said. “He claims that Reese is quite distraught, and that she acted prematurely and all on her own. The offices will be open tomorrow and he would like me to be there.”
    â€œHow do you feel about that?” I asked.
    â€œRelieved,” Harrison said. “It’s bad enough the papers are looking at me, but my own people, too? It’s a bitter pill.”
    â€œMaybe you should stop answering your phone now,” I said.
    â€œGood idea.” He took his phone out of his pocket and shut it off. He ran his hands through his hair. “I feel as if the whole world has gone mad.”
    â€œDid Tyler say anything more about Reese?” I asked. “I mean don’t you think it’s odd that she suspended you without telling Tyler?”
    â€œReese has always been very protective of Win,” Harrison said. “He was like the son she never had.”
    I thought about how she had flung herself across his body at the bonfire. She had definitely been wracked with grief, but I wasn’t so sure I would have called it maternal, which made my thoughts dart to the other woman in Harrison’s office, who was also not very maternal.
    â€œWhat about Tuesday Blount?” I asked. “What was her relationship with Win?”
    Harrison looked distinctly uncomfortable.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” I heckled. “Don’t you want to talk about your ex-girlfriend?”
    â€œI’d rather have a tooth extraction,” he said.
    â€œHang on, I’ll call Nick,” I offered.
    He gave me a lopsided smile. “Why do you want to know about Tuesday?”
    â€œBecause she could be a suspect,” I said.
    â€œNo,” he said. “Strangling a man with his own tie is not her style.”
    â€œWhat is her style, bludgeoning, stabbing or zapping the poor bastard with a toaster in his bubble bath?”
    He laughed. “No, she’s more the sort to henpeck a bloke to death.”
    This should not have made me as happy as it did. Harrison leaned on the counter and picked up my coffee cup. He raised his eyebrows in silent question and I nodded. I watched him take a sip out of my mug and marveled at the intimacy of such a small casual thing.
    Yes, I’d let friends drink out of my cups before. But Harrison was more than a friend and watching his lips on the mug that had just been at mine was a connection that felt deeper than friendship; it felt like something a couple would do.
    â€œYou take it just the way I like it,” he said.
    Our gazes met and I felt that treacherous little thrill flutter in my chest like a bird’s wings against its cage, longing to get out if only I would let it.
    â€œDid you love her very much?” I asked.
    â€œYes,” he said.
    My little bird clutched his feathered chest with his wings and keeled over