Damn. He clenched his teeth to keep from saying something he shouldn't.

     Hovering over him, she said, "That's your cue to leave, Detective Ramsey."

     She must've seen his irritation because she added, "You said after two minutes you'd leave and wouldn't bother me again. I hope you're a man of your word."

     He felt duped. She'd had no intention of hearing him out. Not really. "Ah, but you took up some of my time with your own questions. I think it's only fair that you give me the time we agreed on."

     "And exactly how much of your time do you think I took? Ten seconds? The truth is, Detective, you haven't given me a good reason to do anything. In fact, I still don't know why, after all this time, the police are suddenly interested again. Do you have new evidence you're not disclosing?"

     Keeping his voice even, he said, "It isn't a matter of interest. It's a matter of taking a killer off the streets. How much time has elapsed is irrelevant." He shook his head in disbelief. "Don't you want to see your husband's murderer behind bars?"

     Silence. Except for the soft whir of the fan shifting warm air between them.

     He leaned back in his seat. "I asked for your permission out of respect for your family, Mrs. Sullivan. Fact is, I don�t need your permission. I can get a court order."

     She stiffened and looked away. When she turned to face him again, her eyes flashed with steely determination.

     "Fact is, Detective, I know you wouldn't have come here on a Saturday morning on a four-year-old cold case if you hadn't needed something from me. Fact is, I can hire an attorney to stall or halt any court order you attempt to get.

     Adam gritted his teeth, slapped both hands on his thighs and launched himself to his feet, then reached for his jacket. "I thought you'd be eager to help, Mrs. Sullivan. I wish I'd been right about that."

     He stuffed a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, fingering the glossy surface of the evidence that had started him on this quest. Would it convince her? Or would it screw up his plan? If she truly had no involvement in her husband's side business, the new information he possessed might be enough to convince her to help him. If she'd been involved, or still was, and she thought he was going to uncover her part in it, she might agree just to make him stop asking questions and go away.

     "At least think about it."

     "I have, Detective. And now I'd like you to leave."

     "Yeah," he all but growled, unable to disguise his irritation. His new partner was right. His people skills were rusty.

     A few years ago, he would've had her agreeing to most anything. Admitting his own expertise in that area wasn't cockiness, just the plain truth. He'd been good at his job. The best.

     But that was then and this was now. After scraping bottom, it was hard to get back to the surface.

     "I was trying to avoid this," he said, "but I see I can't." He drew the photograph from his pocket and held it out to her.

     Jillian gulped for air, the room dipped, and for a second, she thought she might faint. She stared at the tattered photo in the detective's hand. "It looks . . ." Her voice quit. She hauled in another lungful of air. "He looks . . . like Rob."

     She was too stunned for her thoughts to gel. The man in the picture was wearing a gray suit and standing beside a dark-haired woman in a white dress. Did Ramsey think Rob had an affair while he was married to her? Or did he think the woman in the photo had something to do with his death?

     It couldn't be. Rob would never . . . Obviously the photo was taken before Jillian and Rob had me t— except she'd known her husband for thirteen years, and this man appeared older than Rob did back then. He looked more like Rob at thirty-eight, his age when he died.

     Jillian plucked the picture from Ramsey's fingers and flipped it over. Someone had written, "Our wedding day," followed by a date.

     A quick sense of relief washed over her. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you're wrong. My husband died in April of that year. This is dated the following May. And that writing is definitely not his."

     She pulled her gaze from the photo and looked up at Ramsey. "I have to admit, the man does resemble Rob, though, and I can see why someone might mistake them for one and the same." She paused. "I've heard we all have a twin somewhere, so maybe it's really true."

     He frowned, then locked eyes with hers. "That photo is reason enough to exhume your husband's body."

     "I don't think so," she said quickly, mostly because she couldn't think of anything else to say. She still couldn't marshal her thoughts enough to fully sort out what he was suggesting or why. "Where did you get the photograph?"

     His lips formed a thin line. "That's confidential."

     Fine. She didn't want to know anything more, anyway. It didn't matter where he got the picture or what he thought it meant.

     An hour ago she'd felt safe and secure, and within minutes, he'd changed all that. She wanted that feeling back again. She wanted to forget about him and his ugly photograph.

     Yet at that precise moment, she had an awful feeling that nothing would ever be the same again.

     "Fine. Keep it confidential." She handed back the photograph. "I'd like you to leave now."

     "Okay," he finally said. "But first..."

     He drew something else from his pocket and handed her what looked like another photo.

     Her heart pounding, she retreated a step. She didn't want to take it, didn't want to look. But like a driver passing the scene of a horrible accident, she was unable to stop herself. She reached out and took the photo from his hand.

     The same man and the same woman — and a little boy.

     Just looking at them made Jillian's eyes hurt. With trembling fingers, she turned over the photo.

Excerpt from The Man in the Photograph by Linda Style
Harlequin Superromance (September 2002)
ISBN 0-373-71084-4
Copyright © 2002 by Linda Style
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.
The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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