Dillon nodded. “I agree, but I didn’t come up here to talk about the case.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I had breakfast with my dad. He said your knee is giving you some trouble.”

Embarrassment and a touch of anger washed over Nick. He didn’t like talking about his physical problems, and he hadn’t expected the colonel to talk about them, either.

Dillon went on. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I have medication, but I don’t like to take it.”

“Medication is to mask the pain, not fix the problem.”

“The problem isn’t fixable.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I didn’t know shrinks were also surgeons.” Damn, he sounded defensive. He didn’t mean to, he just didn’t feel comfortable talking to Carina’s brother about his limitations.

“I was in sports medicine before Justin was murdered. I’d already finished med school at the time, so yeah, I guess you could say I have some experience with injuries, especially joints and muscles.”

Nick didn’t say anything for a long minute. “I had surgery. It didn’t work the first time. I’m scheduled to go back next month, but I’m not holding out hope that it’ll work.”

Dillon looked at his knees, nodded. Nick resisted the urge to cover his scars. And while he’d done everything he could to regain the weight he’d lost the past year, he was still twenty pounds short of his goal. His legs looked too skinny and damaged.

“Surgery on both knees. I can see they went in aggressively.”

“I had an infection, among other things, that weakened my joints. I now have septic arthritis.” He tried to laugh and make a joke. “Thought arthritis was only for old people.”

“Septic arthritis is usually caused by physical damage that results in severely reduced blood flow for an extended period of time.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Dillon nodded. “Well, if you ever want me to take a look, I’m still up to speed on sports injuries. Patrick played ball in college and considered me his personal physician.”

“It’s not a sports injury.”

“Same joints, same muscles. And you are human.”

“That I’m well aware of.” Nick shifted in his seat. “Thank you for the offer. I probably won’t be around long enough, but I’ll let you know how the surgery goes.”

Dillon stood, looked at him. “I hope you’ll keep in touch when this is all over.” He nodded at Nick’s empty mug. “My mom cooked enough to feed an army. I think she’s expecting you.”

“I don’t want to put her out.”

“She’d probably be more upset if you didn’t show up. Wouldn’t want her to think you didn’t like her cooking.”

Dillon left and Nick buried his face in his hands. The upcoming surgery worried him. He wanted it to be a success, but the doctor had told him not to get his hopes up, that there was no guarantee his knees would ever get better.

“Just do it, Doc. The earliest you can.”

“March is the soonest. Don’t expect a miracle.”

“It can’t get any worse.”

“Don’t be so sure, Sheriff.”

March first was two weeks away, the week before the filing deadline. He wanted to know the outcome of the surgery before he made a decision on running for sheriff again.

It wasn’t fair to the people of Gallatin County if he couldn’t do the job.

Jim woke Carina Saturday morning with a phone call. “Dr. Chen is coming in to handle Jodi Carmichael’s autopsy at eleven. Can you make it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Bringing the country sheriff with you?”

“You have a problem with Nick?” She slid out of bed and went into the kitchen to start coffee.

“No.” He paused. “He’s out of his jurisdiction. Don’t you think that’s a problem?”

“He’s a sworn officer of the court, Jim. Why’s it a problem if he wants to spend his vacation helping us on this case? We have three dead girls, and he has experience with these types of cases.”

“I know. I did a little research on him last night.”

That irritated Carina. “What? You did a background check on him?”

“Nothing that intensive. And I’m surprised you didn’t.”

“I did check into him.” While her coffee brewed, she opened the French doors that led to her wraparound deck.

“How deep?”

“I know about the serial killer in Bozeman. My partner and I discussed this already and decided to use Sheriff Thomas’s help. Why do you care? I’m not compromising the investigation.”

“But what do you really know about him?”

“He’s a good cop who caught a serial killer.”

“Well, the FBI caught the serial killer. Your sheriff was kidnapped by him. Doesn’t sound like a competent cop to me.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“It was all over the papers, Carina. Read between the lines.”

“I don’t need to. I know what I need to know. Thanks for the heads-up on the autopsy. I’ll be there.” She hung up, frowning.

She didn’t want to listen to Jim. She knew what she needed to know about Nick Thomas, and she was confident in her judgment. A little tickle in the back of her mind: why was Nick still here? His brother had been cleared of Angie’s murder; there was really no reason for him to stay.

Except that the case had gotten to him. Just like it had her.

But eventually, sooner rather than later, he’d be going back to Montana. She just didn’t want to think about it. She liked him, liked having him around, liked working with him.

She went back inside, poured herself a cup of coffee, and took it with her to the shower.

If she’d had her way, Nick would be in the shower with her right now. What had gone wrong last night?

She had felt how much he’d wanted her. Maybe she’d pushed too much. And his knees-he’d been in pain half the night and hadn’t said anything. Why hadn’t she thought about that when she’d been thinking about taking him to bed?

Nick was also a gentleman, and she had suggested they go upstairs. Above her parents’ house. Not smart, Kincaid.

She’d never once asked any man to bed under her parents’ roof. In fact, when she’d lived in the apartment above the garage she’d never had a man over. It felt wrong, somehow. But that had completely slipped her mind when she’d been kissing Nick in the car. All she’d thought about was him, how much she wanted to make love to him. Common sense had disappeared.

What was she doing even thinking about becoming involved with a man who wouldn’t be around? He would go back to Montana in a few days, maybe a week. Could she do that to herself? She’d never been able to have sex with someone and just walk away as if it meant nothing. She’d never wanted to have sex with a man she didn’t feel something special for.

She shivered. The thought of Nick leaving made her uncomfortable. But wouldn’t that be best? Have a great, sexy affair, no strings attached?

Was that what she wanted?

She turned the shower off and grabbed her towel. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore, except somehow Nick had become involved in her life and she didn’t want to extract him. One day at a time. Close this case, have sex with Nick, then maybe she’d figure it all out.

She wrapped the towel around her body and walked toward her bedroom.

“Hey, sis.”

She jumped, holding her towel tight, and twirled around. Her brother was standing in the kitchen, looking straight down the hall toward her. “Dillon Kincaid, you’re lucky I don’t have my gun.”

“And you’re lucky I’m not an intruder. Taking a shower with the door unlocked?”

She ignored the jibe. She’d forgotten to lock it when she came in from the porch. “Give me five minutes.”

She dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt with “Beach Bum” stenciled in blue across the front. She wasn’t on duty and had already logged all the overtime hours she was going to get for the week, but since she was going down to the station to put in time on the three homicides and observe another autopsy, she holstered her gun and tossed a blazer over her shoulder.