“After that article of yours this morning, you’ve got some nerve showing your face around here.”Logan jerked his head toward Nate’s cubicle. “Can we talk?” Nate led the way, motioning him into the chrome chair opposite the desk. “If you’re thinking an apology’s gonna make everything all right, you’re wrong.”An apology. Yeah, right. Logan propped an ankle on his knee. “Maybe if you’d let me see the police reports I’ve been asking for, I wouldn’t have so many questions about your case.”Nate jerked a drawer open and tossed a thick file on top of his desk. “What’re you gonna want next? My firstborn?”Logan reached for the file.Nate slammed his hand on top of it. “In your dreams, buddy.” Logan slowly retracted his hand. Nate’s vehemence took him a bit by surprise. In the past, whenever he’d hinted in print about the shortcomings of police investigations, the detective hadn’t batted an eye. He’d even tipped Logan off about some corner-cutting on the part of Sheila Santos, a rival on the squad.“You’re taking this awfully personal,”
