He copped his first feel of a breast at church camp. It was after the evening service, on the walk through the woods from the tabernacle back to the cabins. Two summers later, he lost his virginity in a similar fashion. The next morning when prayers of thanksgiving were said, possibly his was the most sincere.

He’d had some pretty crazy escapades during his college years, but who hadn’t? Maturity had made him more cautious and careful-last Saturday night being an exception.

He’d evolved from the horny college kid out to nail any coed who would say yes to a more responsible man who had a genuine liking and respect for women. No matter how long a relationship lasted, or didn’t, he tried to conduct himself honorably.

That included never poaching on another man’s claim. It most certainly meant never having carnal knowledge of another man’s wife.

For over forty years his parents had enjoyed a loving, stable, and happy marriage. There was no doubt in his mind that they were still madly in love and sexually active. The sanctity of the institution was a familiar theme of his dad’s sermons.

Duncan supposed, as hell-raising as he’d been, that particular moral lesson had stuck. Adultery was one commandment you didn’t break. You just didn’t go there. He’d never even been tempted.

But now, he’d taken a married woman, and he was ashamed of himself for it.

The real shame, however, was that, despite everything, he still wanted her.

That would be his punishment, knowing that he could never have her.

No matter how the investigation into the Trotter shooting was ultimately resolved, he would never have Elise.

And the investigation wouldn’t be left to him to resolve.

He wouldn’t be at that ten o’clock interrogation session. Because at nine thirty, he would be in Captain Bill Gerard’s office, admitting that, in regards to Mrs. Laird, he hadn’t been as objective as he’d claimed to be. Not even as objective as he wanted to be. He would make a full confession to Gerard, taking sole responsibility for what had happened, leaving Elise blameless.

He would ask Gerard not to tell Cato Laird why he was removing himself from the case, and Gerard would probably grant that request, not to spare him, but to spare the judge, Elise, and the police department a public scandal.

Gerard would take some disciplinary action, possibly even demand Duncan ’s badge. Tomorrow at this time, he might be out of a job. It was no less than he deserved.

There was one other person to whom he must confess. DeeDee. Other coworkers would speculate on why he was no longer serving in his capacity, and probably a few would guess correctly. But DeeDee needed to hear the truth from him. He owed her that. As his partner, and as his friend. Because as both partner and friend, she had warned him against letting his personal feelings for Elise interfere with their investigation. He doubted she would say “I told you so,” but even if she did, she’d earned that right.

Having resolved what he would do, he left his couch and trudged upstairs. Before he talked to DeeDee, it seemed only proper, and symbolic, that he wash away all vestiges of Elise.

In his bathroom, he reached into the shower stall and turned on the faucets, then took off his clothes. Surrendering to a moment of weakness, he held his shirt against his face. He inhaled the essence of her, which seemed woven into the fabric. Then he impatiently stuffed the garment into the hamper before he talked himself into saving it as some kind of romantic souvenir.

He stepped into the shower beneath the spray.

He had looked at what he’d done from a practical, professional, and moral standpoint, forcefully keeping his emotions at bay, fearing that they would prevent him from making the right decisions.

But the warm water of the shower dissolved his control. Moaning, he leaned against the tile wall and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. The ache inside his chest was guilt. He was suffering the torment of conscience. Regret had sunk its sharp teeth into him.

But he still wanted Elise with every breath he drew.

He couldn’t turn it off, this all-encompassing desire. Both tenacious and urgent, it was unlike anything he’d felt for any other woman. It had gripped him the instant he saw her, and tonight, having had her, it was even more acute than before.

Tomorrow he would atone. “I swear I will,” he vowed in a ragged whisper.

But tonight…

He closed his eyes tightly and let the recollections flow through his mind as freely as his blood surged through his veins. He remembered every detail, vividly. He relived every sound, smell, taste, every touch, every sensation he’d experienced. That first turbulent kiss. Discovering her wet for him. The last sweet ripple of her orgasm.

A raw groan escaped his tight throat. The warm water rained down over his body as a tide of sensation coursed through him, inexorably and uncontainably. As it spilled from him, he shuddered and permitted himself to say, with all the emotion he felt, what he hadn’t allowed himself to say before. “Elise. Elise.”

Towel around his waist, he walked from his bathroom into his bedroom and sat down on the bed. He was physically exhausted, but knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d unburdened himself to DeeDee. This couldn’t keep till daylight.

He picked up his cell phone, took a deep breath, and before he could talk himself out of it, speed-dialed her number.

She answered on the first ring. “How’d you hear so fast? Did Worley call you, too?”

“Huh?”

“You know about Napoli, right?”

“ Napoli? No. What about him?”

“They found him on the Talmadge Bridge, deader than a hammer. I’m ten minutes from you.” She clicked off before he could say anything else.

For several seconds, he stared at the phone in his hand, wondering if the bizarre conversation had actually taken place or if he’d imagined it. Then, having assimilated what she said, he bounded off the bed and dressed hastily. He finger-combed his wet hair and jogged downstairs, only barely remembering to set the house alarm before leaving.

He was pacing the sidewalk in front of his town house when DeeDee turned the corner onto his street. He jogged to meet her. She stopped only long enough for him to scramble in, then sped away.

“You were farther than ten minutes out.”

“I stopped for coffee, Grumpy. Please don’t bother to thank me for being kind and considerate enough to guarantee that you get your minimum daily requirement of caffeine.”

She had a Big Gulp of Diet Coke wedged between her thighs, but he was too grateful for the coffee to remark on it.

“Are we still mad at each other?” she asked, looking at him out the corner of her eye.

He took a sip of coffee. “I wasn’t mad at you.”

“You were mad.”

“We had a difference of opinion. It happens. Even between people of like minds.”

“Well, I was mad at you.” He looked over at her. She shrugged. “First for sneaking off to Atlanta without me.”

“You wouldn’t like Tony Esteban. Trust me on this.”

“Then I was mad because you were being so mulish about Elise Laird. For a while there, I was afraid you’d gone round the bend. I was relieved when you decided to bring her downtown tomorrow. Or today, actually.”

“Wait, DeeDee. Before you give me too much credit, which I don’t deserve, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.” He hesitated, trying to find the words for his confession that wouldn’t send her into orbit. “Tonight I-”

“From the minute we walked into the Lairds’ house the night of the shooting, I’ve felt that something was out of joint,” she said. “I still do. Now this.”

“ ‘Now this’? What do you mean?”

She took the entrance ramp of the bridge too fast. Duncan, never entirely comfortable on the bridge, gripped the armrest and tried to keep from spilling hot coffee in his lap.