Cast the First Stone (The True Lies of Rembrandt Stone 1)

“I know. And I know I’m jumping ahead, but…please?”

It was the please that did it. So different from the weird, almost invasive man she’d met earlier today, this man had a sweet humility about him.

Shoot, she liked him. And then there was the coffee.

“Okay. But we’ll have to go to the Forensic Photography services at the lab downtown.”

Rembrandt gave a slight nod. “Burke will drive.”

She grabbed the camera, the rolls of film, her bag, and followed him out to the lot. Andrew Burke was leaning against his car, waiting, handsome to the bone.

“Hi again, Detective Burke,” she said.

He glanced at Rembrandt. “Apparently he can’t stop harassing you today. Just Burke is fine.”

She slid into the backseat of his Integra. “We’re going to the photo lab.”

“Have you come up with any theories so far?” Burke asked as he pulled out. Rembrandt sat in the other seat, in front.

“Just that we think the blast came from one of the coffee canisters, given the pattern. It’s concentrated on one side of the building, although everyone sitting in the eating area was killed. Terrible.”

Rembrandt stared out the window, his hand rubbing his watch, his thumb moving over the face. A nervous habit, probably.

“Rough first day,” Burke said.

She shrugged. “I just want to make sure we don’t miss anything. Let this guy slip away. Not catching him isn’t something I want to think about.”

Rembrandt drew in a long breath and nodded without looking at her.

They worked their way into the city, the sun low as it spilled over streets and along the paved sidewalks. Burke pulled up in front of the massive, city-block wide municipal building. “I’ll park and catch up with you.”

“Third floor,” Eve said and followed Rembrandt up the wide front steps.

She always felt as if she might be walking back into history every time she entered the circa 1887, Romanesque building. Its thick granite walls kept the air cool despite the early June heat, the rotunda soaring fifteen stories. Inside, carved pillars encased the ancient elevators, and the huge room was centered by a marble statue of a man leaning against a paddle wheel of a riverboat, holding a cornstalk.

Stone led the way across the marble floor, then up the wide staircase. She almost had to run to catch up.

“You okay?” She didn’t know why, because she hardly knew him, but he appeared rattled. Or maybe that was just his driven personality.

He seemed to almost have forgotten her, because he turned then, his hand on the rail, and nodded. “I think so.”

Huh. “We’ll find him, Inspector.”

He made a sort of grunt of agreement, deep in his chest.

The photo lab was located on the third floor, behind one of the original wooden doors. She greeted a couple familiar faces, then headed toward the dark room. “I’ll need to process these films. If you want to come back—”

“I’m staying right here.” He reached for the film, which she’d dumped onto a table. “Which one of these is it?”

“The canister labeled number one.” She plucked it from his hand. “I really don’t need help.”

“I know that, Eve.”

But he didn’t move away.

“Are you going to be like this for every case?”

“Probably, although I promise, I’ll grow on you.”