He stepped back out to check the nameplate, as if his office could have moved of its own volition since he left fifteen minutes ago. “Shit,” he murmured, going back in and around his desk to see what kind of damage she’d done escaping. Since he was expecting to see the drawer torn apart, he blinked when there was no sign of damage. And no sign of his cuffs. He grabbed his briefcase and went to the front. “Rhonda,” he asked the receptionist, “did you see anyone leave my office?” She looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow. “That a trick question? Because you’re not getting out of bringing my latte.” “What? No—” He shook his head “My handcuffs, have you seen them? Or anything else...funny?” “Sergeant, I’ve seen more than my fair share of funny today.” She slid her purse on her shoulder and stood. “And now I’m going home.” “Have a nice night.” What the hell was she talking about? The could-be-twins? There had been two of them, hadn’t there?
