Reading Ray’s notepad upside down from across the desk, Callahan tightened his lips as he made out a few words. Pocket. Champ-something. Initials. Ray didn’t have the best handwriting. That was an understatement, Ray had crappy handwriting. Only Ray could decipher his overabundance of notes.

Filling out the manual reports usually fell to Mason. He didn’t use handwriting; he printed in perfect capital letters that would make an architect proud.

Ray hung up the phone and shook his head. “You’re not going to fucking believe this.”

“Try me.”

Ray relayed a story about Suzanne Mills’s championship ring, and he was right.

Mason couldn’t fucking believe it.

Jack wanted to kill someone. Specifically Lacey’s ex-husband. He would do it with pleasure, making it long and drawn out, using lots of big sharp pins in sensitive little places. He strode through her house, flipping on every light, checking every closet and hidey-hole while she made coffee in her kitchen. Portland police had already checked the house, finding no sign of a break-in. Her house had been locked up tight. But he was checking again. He threw open a bedroom door and stalked to the center of the room, scattering a cat from her king-sized bed. He paused, staring at the bed, grinding his teeth. How had she talked him into leaving her alone at the dental school?

It wasn’t going to happen again.

He’d nearly blown a gasket when campus security cars flooded the parking garage where he’d been waiting in his truck for Lacey. Four security guards had dashed through the door to the skybridge, and Jack had leaped from his truck and followed.

Seeing Lacey sitting on the floor next to a body had shocked every nerve he had. His hand had moved to his hip even though he hadn’t carried a gun in years. It wasn’t a scene he wanted to experience again. Ever.

Jack stomped down her stairs, slightly frustrated he hadn’t found a lurking ex-husband to pound on, knowing full well Frank Stevenson was spending the rest of the night in jail. He stopped at the entry to the kitchen, studying the woman pouring two mugs of coffee. Her hand quivered. She was hanging tough after a shitty day. She’d been interviewed by campus security and then the police. Jack had been glad she wasn’t driving. Lacey hadn’t said a word the entire trip home, staring out the window at the dark, icy streets.

Her head shot up as she felt his presence, her eyes widened briefly then relaxed.

“Sorry. I should’ve said something.” Way to go. Sneak up on the woman.

Her smile was weak as she held out a mug to him. A pile of jewelry sat on her kitchen counter. Necklaces, watches, bracelets, and a silver baby rattle. Police had asked to see the jewelry box where she’d kept the ring. Jack picked up the tarnished rattle and read the engraving. Lacey Joy Campbell. She was four years younger than he was.

Lacey held out a gold ring set with a red gemstone. “I showed this to the police. I’m missing one just like it. The engraved year is different. This is the ring from the previous year’s title.” She ran her hands through the mess again. “I can’t find my other championship ring. The one from the same year as Suzanne’s.”

Her tone was flat, her gaze on the heap of jewelry.

Someone had been in her house. At some point.

“Could you have misplaced it? Or lost it?” His questions were unnecessary.

She shrugged. “Anything is possible. But I haven’t pulled that box out in years. All that stuff is old. I don’t wear any of it.” She blew out a breath and sat heavily on a stool at the island. Jack eased onto the one beside her, his gaze never leaving her face.

Her blue and yellow kitchen was probably a cheery place during the day, but palpable layers of dread and anxiety were ruining the effect. Lacey had made coffee because neither of them knew what else to do at three in the morning. They were both wired. Sleep was out of the question. There’d been no time to check her into a hotel yet. “When did he do it?” she whispered as she wrapped both hands around her mug. “Why would he break in to steal something? I had no clue someone had been in my house.”

“He planted Suzanne’s ring because he wanted you to know he’d been in your home. He knew you’d go look for your own ring and figure out he’s been in your house. Callahan was right. This guy’s got an ego and wants you to know what he’s capable of. He’s trying to shake you up, play with your head.”

“He’s doing a good job.”

Jack fought his instinct to pack her up, throw her in his truck, and simply get out of town.

Instead, they sat sipping their unwanted coffee, heavy silence growing between them.

“Do you think it was Frank?” he asked. “Does he have a key to your house?”

She grimaced and Jack knew she was thinking of Frank and her key card to the school building. Jack and campus security were ticked over that fact.

“He doesn’t have a key. I’m positive.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not the person who took your ring.”

She had no explanation for the police when they’d asked why Frank would follow her. Frank didn’t volunteer any answers either. He’d shot surly looks at Jack from the backseat of a patrol car as Lacey and the janitor were questioned.

The janitor was a hero in Jack’s eyes. Sean had shrugged, and then he shook his head when questioned why he was working at the school so late. Lacey had theorized he was getting his work done when the place was empty. No one was around to harass him.