L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent Read Free

appliances. The place looked awful, but with the move and all she’d had to do after Rob’s death, home improvement hadn’t been high on her list of priorities. Hell, back then she’d barely passed survival on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.
    She’d been busy getting the first hair salon up and running, and then she’d expanded to two and then three salons, which had taken even more of her time. But now she had no excuses. She had both the time and the money.
    The more she thought about it, the more she realized the whole place needed renovating—and it would give her something to do while Chloe was away. But she couldn’t change Chloe’s room unless her daughter was involved in the process.
    Jillian smiled. If Chloe was interested, they could redecorate her room as soon as she got home. Something they could do together.
    Deciding, she rummaged through the junk drawer for paper and pen, then sat on a stool at the counter to make a list of what needed to be done. She’d prioritize and get started immediately.
    After she got rid of Detective Adam Ramsey.
    As if summoned by her thoughts, the bell rang. Her insides knotted. He was here to talk about Rob’s murder. Something she didn’t want to talk about. She just wished to hell she hadn’t noticed him at the market and thought him an eligible bachelor when he wasn’t.
    Now that she knew who he was, she wouldn’t be interested, anyway. She went to the foyer and pulled open the door.
    His smile produced tiny wrinkles near the corners of his eyes. He might be older than she’d thought. Late thirties, maybe.
    “You’re early. You said an hour.”
    “Right on both counts. Would you like me to leave and come back later?”
    She’d like him to leave and never come back. He made her feel…jittery and a little uncertain, when she was not a jittery, uncertain person. A bit scattered sometimes, but that was different.
    She motioned him inside and into the living room on her left. “What’s on your mind, Detective?”
    “May I sit?” He gestured toward the couch.
    “Go ahead.” But don’t get too comfortable.
    The taupe faux-suede sofa seemed to diminish in size as he settled. In fact, the whole room felt smaller with him in it, the air thicker, hotter. Instead of sitting herself, she leaned against the side of the easy chair and crossed her arms. She noticed tiny beads of sweat forming on his tanned brow.
    “Aren’t you a little warm with that jacket on?”
    “I am, but—” he lifted up one side of his jacket “—the gun makes some people nervous.”
    “Anything involving the LAPD makes me nervous.”
    He frowned, but seconds later his expression softened. “I understand. In your shoes I might feel the same.” He glanced at her feet. “Well…that’s if you were wearing shoes.”
    He smiled, then leaned back, one arm slung across the top of the cushion beside him. His easy charm was meant to disarm her, she was sure.
    “Sorry to bother you. I’m new on the case, so it’s important to bring myself up to date.”
    As he talked, his gaze panned the room. She knew he was studying everything, even her. Just like her father had when she’d finally met him after her mom died.
    She hadn’t known her father was a cop, hadn’t known lots of things about him. Her delight at discovering she had a real live father had been squelched as fast as it had come, and the disastrous experience of living with him tainted her perception of any man in the same profession. The treatment she’d received later at the hands of the LAPD hadn’t helped.
    The way this detective was looking at her now made her wish she’d worn long pants, instead of skimpy shorts. She let her hands fall to cover her thighs. “Why do you want to bring yourself up to date? Isn’t it too late for that?”
    “Too late?”
    “Yes. Your department told me if they didn’t have a lead within the first week or so, the likelihood is that the case will never be solved. Four years ago I was told