Page 3 of Crime Lab Cold Case (Pacific Northwest Forensics #2)

Natalie froze. Her gaze shifted to the window that looked out onto the lab, its blinds firmly drawn. She licked her dry lips as she gave her attention to the man in front of her. His height. His frame. His deep voice. The stranger from the trail.

“I—I…” She covered her mouth with her hand.

How could she explain to him that she hadn’t been accusing him of murdering his wife?

How could she explain that for one frantic minute in a haze from the past, she thought he was the man who’d chased her and Katie through the woods, snatching Katie and taking her away forever?

He folded his arms across his broad chest and settled his back against the door.

A vein throbbed in his forehead. “Are you going to tell me that you weren’t on the Devil’s Edge Trail last night around ten o’clock and that you didn’t tell me that you weren’t going to let me kill you like I’d killed her? ”

Her cheeks flamed with heat. Is that what she’d said?

She bit down on her lower lip and tasted blood.

Her tongue darted to the droplet and licked it off.

“I was there, but I didn’t know that was you out on the trail.

I couldn’t see your face. The light was in my eyes.

And I-I don’t remember what I said. You frightened me, and I yelled out, but I certainly don’t remember saying those words.

Why would I? I didn’t even know that was you out there, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be accusing you of murdering your wife. ”

He blinked. His black, sooty lashes sweeping over his startling blue eyes for a second. He rubbed his jaw and took a deep breath. The vein stopped pulsing. “You yelled something at me.”

She gave him a jerky nod. “Yes. Yes, I did. I’m sorry. You startled me. I yelled something, but I don’t remember what. I certainly didn’t accuse you of murder. Look, I know what happened to your wife and I’m sorry, but I read you were cleared. You wouldn’t be running this lab if you hadn’t been.”

The volcano that seemed to have been building in his body dissipated without an explosion. He ran a hand through his inky black hair and shook his head. “I apologize. I must’ve misinterpreted what you said. I saw a woman in front of me, afraid, and yeah, that’s what I imagined you said.”

Natalie’s shoulders dropped. He believed her. He’d put it down to his own fevered imagination…instead of hers. “That’s ridiculous that we met that way. What are the odds? Talk about your bad first impressions.”

His rather stern mouth quirked into a lopsided grin, and her heart skipped a beat. “I’ve been on edge, and I was an idiot aiming that flashlight in your face in the dark. Anyone would be startled.”

“My own actions weren’t exactly measured.” She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “Why don’t we get back on even footing here and go out to lunch? My treat, or at least the FBI’s.”

“Sounds good. Let me make some meeting notes first, and you can get set up in here.” He opened the door and paused. “Contact Felicia, our admin assistant, if you need anything in the way of office supplies or printers or software log-ins. She’ll set you up.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks.” She lifted her hand and waved, as much to send him off as to clear the remaining tension from the conference room. Despite her ridiculous explanation and his ready acceptance of it, strands of that tension still vibrated in the air.

She clicked the door closed behind him and sank into a chair at the conference table. She folded her arms on top of the cool mahogany and buried her face in the crook of her elbow. How could she have been so careless? So…emotional?

She didn’t want anyone to recognize her as the teen who’d been with Katie Fellows when she’d disappeared—least of all, Michael Wilder, her contact at the lab.

He had to believe she was here to audit the historical evidence of his lab, which was bad enough.

But she’d just about pulled it off with that meeting—all jovial camaraderie, all “let’s work together as a team,” all “no blame here.”

They’d bought it. Ate it up. Even Wilder. She raised her head from her arms and tightened her ponytail. That name suited him, with his dark good looks and barely suppressed fury.

Had he become furious enough with his wife—almost ex-wife—to off her? He had been cleared, people had seen him elsewhere at the time, but people lied all the time to protect others.

She moved to the end of the table and plopped down in the chair she’d been previously occupying. She flipped open her laptop and opened a new document. Might as well get a list of supplies and items going for Felicia.

Her head snapped up, and she narrowed her eyes at the blinds covering the conference-room windows. How had Michael identified her as the woman from Devil’s Edge Trail? She doubted he could’ve seen her any clearer than she’d seen him with that beam of light in her face.

She drummed her thumbs against the edge of her keyboard. She’d have to watch herself around him. The man might have a hair-trigger temper, but a keen intelligence added fire to those blue eyes…and she’d felt the heat all the way down to her toes.

* * *

Michael finished the last of his notes on the meeting this morning and drained the dregs of his coffee. He’d cut way back on caffeine and tended to nurse his one cup of coffee until the cold, bitter last sip.

He saved his file with a tap and leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples. Maybe he needed to cut back even more after this morning’s embarrassing outburst.

He’d just accused the FBI agent assigned to investigate his lab of calling him a killer—in the woods, in the middle of the night.

Steepling his fingers, he rested his chin on the apex. What the hell was Special Agent Natalie Brunetti doing on Devil’s Edge Trail at ten o’clock at night? She’d never clarified her presence there and he’d been too flustered and ready to accept her explanation to ask.

Why didn’t she mention the encounter this morning? If it was true that she hadn’t recognized him, why wouldn’t she talk about a frightening meeting with a strange man in the woods? Unless she didn’t want anyone to know she’d been on that trail, presumably her first day in town.

Did the FBI have some ulterior motive in sending Brunetti out here? Were they trying to pin Raine’s murder on him, after all? FBI agent arrives in Marysville and goes out to the scene of his wife’s homicide her first night in town. What are the odds?

Maybe she did recognize him. Maybe she was expecting him. Maybe she was hoping to rattle him.

His head jerked up at the sharp rap on his door. Natalie’s fake smile didn’t even reach her whiskey-colored eyes. He pasted one on to rival hers. “Lunchtime already?”

“I know. We must’ve both been working hard for the time to pass so quickly.” She clasped her hands loosely in front of her. “Are you ready for lunch? I can come back later.”

“I’m starving.” He pushed back from his desk, his chair banging the wall behind him, and Natalie jumped. She had that look again from the woods, as if she was ready to bolt. “Do you mind walking? There are quite a few lunch spots near the lab, and ’d like to stretch my legs.”

“That sounds perfect, as long as it doesn’t rain.”

“Around these parts, that’s always a gamble.” He reached for the compact umbrella he kept in his desk drawer. “You always need to be prepared for rain.”

“Don’t I know it. I mean, so I’ve heard, but that’s why it’s so lush and green. It’s a good trade-off, don’t you think?” She stepped away from the door as he grabbed his jacket.

He was thinking a lot of things, none of which he was about to share with her. “I like it, but then I grew up in the desert. Give me another twenty years here, and I might grow to hate it.”

Natalie’s eyes widened but she nodded, as if she knew exactly what he meant.

As they walked through the lobby, Michael jerked his thumb toward the security guard behind the desk. “Do you want to borrow an umbrella, just in case? Might be better than the two of us trying to squeeze beneath this one.”

The thought of sharing an umbrella with him seemed to seal the deal for her. “That’s probably a good idea. I’ll have to buy one while I’m out here and remember to keep it with me.”

Michael detoured to the security station. “Sam, do you have an umbrella our guest can borrow?”

“Sure do.” Sam gestured toward Natalie, while nudging a wire basket filled with multicolored umbrellas with the toe of his shoe. “Take your pick, ma’am.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Natalie hunched over the selection and picked a dark green compact umbrella. “This one should work.”

Michael glanced at the large tote bag as she tucked the umbrella inside. Was this supposed to be a working lunch? He planned to get a little work in, but probably not the kind she intended.

As he ushered her out the front door, he glanced at the gray sky, still too light for rain. “Sandwiches for lunch okay, or do you prefer something more substantial?”

“Sandwiches will work, as long as I can get a Diet Coke.” She rubbed her forehead with her knuckles. “I’m just beginning to feel a little jet lag. I think I’m going to need some caffeine to get through the afternoon.”

“They have about a million types of soda at this place. You know those self-serve machines with every conceivable choice. Sorry, this is not a high-end joint.”

“Do I look like I need high-end?” She tapped her chest, her silk blouse just visible beneath the expensive-looking dark green jacket that matched the umbrella she selected, a Burberry raincoat over top. He’d recognize those buttons anywhere.

He shrugged. “I’ve been out to DC before. You Fibbies do things a little differently back there.”

“I assure you. We do eat sandwiches at places with self-serve soda machines.” She tipped her head back and sniffed the air like a native. “What do you think? Rain?”