* * *
Grady stared at the beauty sitting in front of him. His hunch had been right. She wasn’t a criminal. He’d contacted the twelfth precinct and they’d called her grandfather’s caretaker Anna who confirmed everything Olive said.
But while he was waiting on that call back from the detective in Chicago, he’d run her name in the system and found out she had a bench warrant. He could just release her with a warning advising her to take care of the parking tickets but for some reason, that’s not what he was doing.
He had questions. Why was she in Whisper Lake? Why had she thought he was a stripper? Why did she make his heart beat uncontrollably?
That last question he could probably answer. She was stunning. Gorgeous really. But it wasn’t just her outward appearance that drew him to her. She was a flame and he was a moth. He was attracted to her in a very literal sense. He wanted to be near her, close to her. There was a quality about her that he couldn’t put his finger on, and it had him wanting to get to know her better. Really know her.
He wanted to know what made her happy. Sad. What she had for breakfast. What her favorite childhood memory was. What her pet peeves were. Was there a story behind her unique name? She was the first Olive he’d ever met.
He wanted to know everything about this woman.
She was a magnet to his soul.
But he was on the job. He couldn’t ask her any of those things. He just needed to release her.
She opened her eyes and sighed. “Yes, I do have unpaid parking tickets. But I promise that is the extent of my criminal activity. I will pay those tickets. Last month, I missed a court date where I was going to ask for a payment plan but I ended up having to rush my grandfather to the emergency room because he turned on the stove and pressed his hand to the burner.
“He’s not well and I’m responsible for him. I was the one who put the tracker on his car last year, which I’m assuming is how you found me. He was still able to drive then. I did it so if he got lost or confused, I’d be able to find him.
“I swear, I didn’t steal the car. I told him that I was taking it but with his dementia he gets confused. He’s a writer, or he was a writer, and he sometimes gets reality confused with storylines from books he wrote.”
“What sort of books did he write?”
She blinked, looking surprised at his question. “Oh, um, he was primarily a crime novelist but also wrote several psychological thrillers.”
Grady’s father loved both and he wondered if he might have read some of his books. “Anything I might’ve read?”
“I doubt it. He hasn’t written anything in a long time. His pen name is Arthur Miles.”
“Your grandfather is Arthur Miles?” Grady’s dad had been a huge fan of Arthur Miles. He was second only to Michael Connelly.
Olive’s brow furrowed. “You’ve heard of him?”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, I mean he hasn’t released a book since the nineties, so I just...”
“My dad was a huge fan of his. He loved his Jake Harlon series.”
Olive’s expression relaxed and a smile spread across her face that warmed Grady from the inside out. “I can send him an autographed book if he’d like.” The offer had no sooner left her lips when her eyes widened. “I wasn’t trying to bribe you or anything.”
Grady couldn’t help but grin. “I didn’t think you were. He would have loved that but he passed away twelve years ago.”
Olive’s hand rested on her chest and sincerity shone in her sky-blue gaze. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Grady never talked about his father. He’d died right before he graduated from the police academy. After that, Grady just threw himself into his work.
Olive tilted her head to the side. “I never really knew my dad. He was a musician and OD’d when I was three.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, really. I don’t remember him. I have memories but I think that’s just more from pictures and what people told me.”
A knock sounded at the door and Grady looked over his shoulder.
Romero stuck his head in. “You going to be in here much longer? Anderson just picked up two idiots in a bar fight and we need to separate them.”