Page 20 of Hostile Witness
“Have you thought about where you’ll put his food and water?”
She gave him the once-over. “Yes, in the kitchen by the microwave cart. You’re looking rather relaxed, Detective. Why’d you take your boots off?”
“They’re full of mud. I spent part of my shift walking the fallow fields behind Lieutenant Plante’s house searching for anything we might have missed.”
Tia opened a drawer and tossed him a towel. “My porch is a practice-landing site for seagull droppings. Bring the boots inside, and set them on this.”
He caught it one-handed with a laugh. “Thanks, the boots thank you, too.”
“How’s the case going? Are you closing in on a suspect?”
Ethan set his boots inside. “Confidentially?”
She peered at him from the kitchen. “Okay, confidentially. I know what the word means.”
He nodded. “We have a suspect. Personally, I don’t think he’ll pan out. Otherwise, no fingerprints, no DNA, and no idea.This isn’t what the public wants to hear. Whoever did it should be locked up by now.”
“Did your crew find whatever it was I kicked across the kitchen?”
Ethan paused, maintaining a blank expression. “There’s no mention of that in the reports. What was it?”
“Beats me. I came in the back door, and my foot caught something and sent it flying. At the moment, I was seriously invested in not getting caught and finding a bathroom.”
“Did you see where it went?”
Tia shrugged. “Under the counter or maybe an appliance? I’m pretty certain I told your guys about it when they interviewed me at the hospital. Whatever it was hit something hard, and the skidding noise stopped.” She shoved a mug of tea into the microwave.
“Would you happen to have a coke?”
Tia raised an eyebrow. “In the fridge, help yourself. You’re getting a little too comfortable here, Detective.”
He opened the refrigerator door and stood back. “Don’t worry. I know my place. If I get out of line, you’ll kick my ass.”
“You don’t believe I can?”
“After checking with a recruit who said he used an ice bag on and off for twenty-four hours, I know you can.”
An evil chuckle rumbled from her throat. “I couldn’t do that eighteen months ago.”
“Very impressive. You want some carryout? I’m used to eating after work.”
“Now you’re wayyy too comfortable.”
“Actually, I’m concerned for your health. There are soy milk, strawberry jam, a horseradish dip, dog food, and three beers in your fridge.”
She laughed. “Admittedly, I need to place an order for grocery delivery, but I’ll pass on the carryout.”
Ethan opened his phone and started typing. “Do you eat Thai?”
“If I were eating carryout—which I’m not—I’d pick Thai over Chinese any day.”
He tapped a few more times and closed his phone. “What precipitated you learning Krav Maga?”
Tia touched a hand to her throat and turned away. “Nothing, really. I wanted to learn self-defense.” She spun around to face him. “Tell me, Detective, do I come across as incompetent?”
Oh, hell. Thishadto be a trick question. “No, why?”
“Because... empty refrigerator aside, I handle my life quite well. But my uncle keeps sending people, mainly men, to check on me. I’m thirty-one years old and have been taking care of myself for years. And it baffles me that even Mrs. Stoddard insisted I have a chaperone to take care of a retired K9. You can’t blame me for wondering if people view me as incompetent.” She rubbed her arms and leaned against the counter, waiting for his answer.