Page 133 of Liar's Point

Her cheeks were flushed pink, and he had the sudden urge to kiss her—right in front of the police station, which she definitely wouldn’t appreciate since she’d made him promise to keep everything top secret.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He settled for tucking a coppery lock of hair behind her ear. “What did Miranda have?”

“We got a DNA hit,” she said excitedly. “Remember the mirror in Aubrey’s car? How it had been adjusted for someone taller?”

“Yeah?”

“Miranda took a swab and got touch DNA off the glass. This guy is in the system.” She reached across the seat and grabbed a file folder. “I printed him out.”

“Who is it?”

“John Krueger.” She handed him the file. “He’s got a rap sheet in Colorado. That’s Boulder, Colorado. He’s thirty-two, ex-military. He got arrested for aggravated assault after getting into a bar fight six years ago and putting two guys in the hospital.”

Emmet opened the file and scanned the arrest record, which included a mug shot. Krueger was white, heavyset, and had shaggy brown hair. He could have easily been the guy in the surveillance footage from Aubrey’s apartment. Or he could have just as easily not have been. Impossible to tell.

“And that’s not our only link to Boulder,” Nicole went on. “You know that, right? Cassandra Miller happens to be from Boulder, too. Don’t you think that’s interesting?”

He glanced up from the paper. Nicole’s eyes danced the way they did when she landed a big lead.

“Cassandra Miller, the yoga teacher,” he stated. She was still hung up on this woman?

“Yes. But that’s not her real name. Or not her full name, I should say. It’s Catherine Cassandra Miller, married name McVoy. Her husband is Malcom McVoy, and he owns this multimillion-dollar tech company. They make surveillance drones for the Defense Department. The guy’s loaded, it turns out. Which makes it weird that his wife is down in some Texas beach town teaching yoga.”

Emmet closed the file.

“How’s that for a coincidence?” she asked. “We need to tell Brady.”

“I will. But you’re not even supposed to be here. You’re off, remember?”

“But—”

“You can have all the credit,” he said, “but you’d better not show up to the team meeting.”

She thrust her chin out.

“I’m serious, Nicole. Brady will be pissed. He wants you on leave.”

“Fine.” She reached in and grabbed another file folder from the passenger seat. “There’s what I found on Cassandra Miller. No arrest record, but you need to look at her, too. I’m telling you, she’s involved in this somehow. She’s using a fake name, and the Boulder connection is too weird to be a coincidence.”

Nicole turned back to her truck, and he watched with suspicion as she stashed her crutches inside.

“Where are you going now?” he asked.

She hitched herself into the driver’s seat, and he held her elbow to steady her as she swung her boot inside.

“You said I’m not welcome at the team meeting. So fine. Go have your meeting. Just fill me in on any updates. The DNA is in, and they’re expecting to hear back from the FBI today, too. Brady’s contact was going to get those video clips analyzed, remember? Liam Shaunessy’s clip could be critical.”

Without further argument, she pulled on her seat belt.

Emmet rested his hand on the top of the door. “You’re going home now, right?”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “Brady’s orders.”

She definitely was not going home.

“Nicole—”

---