was what I was doing when you asked me what I was doing,” he told her.
Kendra blew out a breath. Maybe the key to surviving this union was to exchange as few words as possible—and to keep to well-ventilated areas. “Point taken. Okay, Abilene, as you were.”
He grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Kendra wondered just how long she had to wait before she could officially request a change of partners without having the chief think that she was being unreasonable.
Chapter 4
U tilizing a couple of prominent social networks, a little more than an hour into her internet search, Kendra discovered that Summer Miller had no immediate family in the state.
The only listed relative turned out to be a distant cousin, someone named Sandra Hill, who lived in Springfield, Illinois.
But even that proved to be a dead end. When she tracked down the cousin’s phone number and tried it, she was informed by an automated voice that the number she had dialed was “no longer in service.”
Dropping the handset back into the cradle, Kendra sighed and shook her head.
Abilene looked up from the list of newly accumulated phone numbers related to the case. “Something wrong?”
“Just hit a dead end, that’s all.” Her frown deepened as she stared at the last site she’d pulled up. “Hopefully not the first of many,” she commented. In response to the questioning rise of Abilene’s eyebrow—the extraneous thought that her partner had incredibly well-shaped eyebrows for a man floated through her head out of nowhere—Kendra filled him in. “The victim’s cousin’s phone is currently disconnected and I can’t seem to find anyone else to call.”
Although relieved not to have to notify a grieving family member of the young woman’s untimely death, she felt sad to think that no one was there to make funeral arrangements for Summer Miller.
“Maybe there’s a roommate or a best friend who can supply us with the names we need,” Abilene suggested. “We can go check out where she lived. You still have her license, right?”
She’d almost forgotten about slipping that into her pocket. Her intent had been to drop the wallet off with her father at the crime lab—it would give her an opportunity to ask him some questions about the body—but then she’d gotten sidetracked. “Right.”
“All right, then. Let’s go,” he said, already on his feet. “We’ve got the address, let’s see if there’s a roommate or a talkative neighbor.”
Before she could rubber-stamp his suggestion, Abilene’s cell phone rang. He paused, digging it out of his shirt pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, it was his turn to frown. Without thinking, he dropped back into his chair and turned it almost 180 degrees, deliberately cutting himself off from his partner.
When he spoke, his voice dropped down a couple of decibels.
Either action would have aroused Kendra’s curiosity. That he did both increased her curiosity a hundredfold. Ever since she could remember, she’d always had this almost overwhelming desire to know— every thing—to get to the bottom of any matter.
This was no different.
As she pretended to write out her notes and some of the points she wanted to touch on later, Kendra listened intently, taking in what Abilene was saying to whomever was on the other end of his call. Lucky for her, Kendra had excellent hearing because her partner’s voice was so low, it almost could have qualified for mental telepathy.
“No, I can’t right now.” He sighed, like a man searching for the right words and the strength not to raise his voice and yell in utter frustration. “You knew that this was going to be just temporary. Yes, you did,” he insisted. “You’re smart enough for that. No,” he said in a firmer voice. Then, in the next moment, as Kendra continued to eavesdrop, she heard her partner relent. “All right, all right, don’t cry,” he told the person on the other end—obviously a woman. She could tell