Chapter 68

Claire answeredthe knock at her bedroom door, unsurprised to see Jake's hulking frame standing there. Like an overbearing guard dog, he hadn't left her alone for more than a few minutes since she'd come back to Dana's.

She glanced at the clock, annoyed at the hour. Suspicion was warranted, but this was ridiculous. She still needed to sleep.

"Jake, it's four in the morning."

"I know what time it is."

"Then why are you waking me up?"

"Press is gone."

His words erased the fog of sleep from her mind. "Did something happen? Another murder?"

He shrugged. "Maybe we're just old news. You still want air?" he asked, changing the subject.

Accusation hung between them, and Claire wasn't sure how to respond. She peered around him, to see Dana sitting at her desk, lamp light glowing in the predawn hours. It seemed no one had gotten any sleep.

"Maybe later," Claire finally answered, beginning to close the door but Jake's boot stopped her.

"We need to talk," he said, handing her a jacket. "I think it's best if we get some air."

They stood on Dana's back porch. It was smaller than the brownstone's ornate street facing facade with all its imposing stone and columns, but the narrow overhang sheltered Claire and Jake from the dampness that hung in the chill spring air.

There was no furniture on the back porch, just a few potted plants in need of attention. Claire leaned up against the house, arms wrapped tightly around the borrowed peacoat she wore. She had her own jacket in her room, but Jake hadn't offered her the chance to grab it.

He stood there silently watching her with his intimidating ‘Special Agent' stare. He was waiting for her to talk first, but she wasn't going to. If he wanted to accuse her of something, he could, but she wasn't foolish enough to divulge information he was only guessing at.

Jake exhaled loudly, ending their silent stalemate. "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"

"Ask what?"

"For the truth."

Claire did her best to calm her breathing, but it was hard with Jake looking at her like that. She'd seen him look at criminals that way. It hurt more than she liked to admit. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Give it a rest, Claire. I know you didn't slip out the window for ‘some air,'" he said, his fingers making mocking air quotes.

"What do you want from me, Jake?"

"Let's start with the truth."