* * *
Joaquin was standingnear the door in the lobby when Mia walked out, looking exhausted and more than a little shaken. “Hey.”
She didn’t seem surprised to see him. “What are you doinghere?”
“I had to pick up a mug shot for the paper. I saw you come in and thought I’d wait around to make sure you’reokay.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze went soft, then fell to thefloor.
“Do you need alift?”
She nodded. “I need a ride back to the Botanic Gardens. My car is parked there. Would youmind?”
“How about I take you out for a quick bite to eatfirst?”
She seemed to hesitate, then nodded. “Okay.”
So, dinner with him wasn’t on her bucketlist.
They walked outside together, cold wind hitting Joaquin in theface.
¡Carajo!It was damnedcold.
Denver’s streets were busy with rush-hour traffic, so it took a few minutes to make it two blocks to his truck. He opened her door, shut it behind her, then walked around to the driver’s side and climbedin.
Mia was huddled in her parka and shivering. “I spent two years in Iraq and can’t seem to get acclimated to the coldagain.”
“They say it’s dropping to ten below tonight.” He started the engine. “Do you like Mexicanfood?”
She nodded. “Loveit.”
He pulled into traffic, heading down 13thAvenue. “My cousin Mateo owns a place not far from here. He serves the best chile verde inDenver.”
“Oh, really?” Mia arched a delicate red eyebrow. “That’s quite aclaim.”
“You’ll see.” Joaquin drew to a stop at a red light. “I have to stop by the paper first to drop off the mug shot. You can wait in the truck. I’m just going to leave this at the front securitydesk.”
“That’sfine.”
It took a few minutes to reach the newspaper. Joaquin left the truck running, doors locked, and hurried through the paper’s front door. He dropped the envelope with the mug shot on the security desk, sent a text message to Syd to tell her where the photo was, and then hurried back out to hisvehicle.
“I’m starving. How aboutyou?”
Mia nodded. “Hungry.”
He drove toward Speer, the conversation lapsing intosilence.
Joaquin decided to come out with it. “I heard they found bloody towels and a bath mat along with this Meyer guy’s driver’s license in a wood chipper—and, no, this isn’t for thenewspaper.”
Mia watched him, doubt in her eyes. “Yes. That’s what they told me. I didn’t put it there. I didn’t have anything to do withthis.”
He reached over, gave her hand a squeeze. “That’s what Isaid.”
She shook her head, her brow furrowing. “You barely know me. How can you be sure? I could be a serial killer for all youknow.”
Joaquin didn’t talk about the spiritual side of his work with most people. Too many wouldn’t understand. But he didn’t want Mia thinking he was just saying this because he wanted to get into her pants or someshit.
“Elena trusts you, and she’s a good judge of people. More than that, I’ve been a photographer all of my adult life. I’ve shot politicians and rock stars and killers. My camera taught me to see beyond what people show on the outside to what they are beneath their skin. That probably soundsstrange.”