“I’m here to talk to Anne,” William said mildly.
The fact that William wasn’t even slightly intimidated by Jeffers seemed to make him even angrier. And it occurred to her that what he wanted to talk to her about might have been romantic in nature. Her heart surged in her chest.
“You could’ve called.” Anne took a seat.
“Could’ve. Didn’t.” William rolled his neck around on his shoulders. “It would be easier to show you.”
Anne’s cheeks burned. Did he have to act like this here?
“Then show us,” Jeffers said.
William shrugged. “What I have to show you would be down in the morgue. Let’s just say I have a suspicion that your guy missed something.”
Jeffers leaned forward. “And how would you get that suspicion?”
Anne had a feeling that admission to how William had gotten that information would be incriminating. “Why do we have to go to the morgue?”
“Look, this Pigg bloke, he’s the thug type, right? He’s a big hunk of muscle. That means he’s either addicted to bodybuilding, or he’s someone’s hunk of muscle.”
Anne held her arm in front of Jeffers and leaned forward. “As in a gang?”
“As in hired. It’s my best guess. But if that’s correct, then you’re not necessarily looking for a crime of passion or a personal vendetta. Could be a pro that did this.”
Jeffers made a noise, but Anne nodded. “I’d considered that. But how would you be sure?”
“You couldn’t be, unless the guy was the kind to leave his mark.” William put his feet down and met Anne’s eye. “And if he did, he’d be subtle about it. Else he’d have the cops following his trail up and down the west coast.”
Jeffers shook his head. “So, you think the body’s got some hit man’s mark on it, and you’re gonna catch it when our people can’t? What are you, Batman?”
“Hardly.” William rested his arms on the table. “I’m just a fellow who’s been on the inside for a minute. I know a few things.”
Jeffers pinned William down with a glare, then, just as Anne had been about to break it up between them again, Jeffers held up a finger and left.
“Touchy,” William muttered.
“Behave yourself.” Anne pulled up a chair and sat across from William. “Tell me more about this. You really think it could be a hit man?”
“Oh, is this the part wherein the nice lady cop gets the bad boy to speak, when there’s a recording device somewhere in the room?”
“Don’t be paranoid and weird.”
“Me?” William laughed. “I just got pulled into this room with my hands behind my back. I’m hardly being paranoid. Your lovesick puppy of a partner would definitely see to it that I’d incriminate myself somehow.”
“So you would incriminate yourself, telling us this information?” Anne pressed.
William said nothing. But she hadn’t expected him to admit it. Instead, he reached across the table and touched her hand. Their eyes met.
“You’ve got to be careful on this one, love. You don’t want to get caught in the crosshairs. You’ve got people who depend on you. Who care about you.”
Anne twisted her head away. There was nothing in there to look at. Just the white walls and a beat-up table. “Will, I…”
She couldn’t meet his eye. She could see her daughter in those eyes, and they looked at her with a desire for something Anne absolutely couldn’t give. Not now. Not again.
“You take me down, and I’ll show you this one thing. Then you don’t have to see me ever again,” William said quietly.
Her heart fluttering disobediently, Anne rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. Three years on top of a mountain of lies and differences didn’t seem so much when she was alone with him like this. It seemed as though the world could fall away, and she could be pressed against him once again, brushing her fingers over the white-blond hairs on his chest.
When the door opened again, their hands flew part. They were like two teenagers avoiding parental eyes and strictures against dating. Anne would have laughed, if it weren’t for the look on Jeffers’ face, and what he was holding.